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Dryad's Fames

A harrowing story of the immense hunger of the Gods

By Ben CardyPublished 2 years ago Updated 2 years ago 5 min read

"Feed me"

Again, the harrowing voice bellowed and hurled around the young boys empty mind. A sickening calmness to it sticking to every reasonable emotion of doubt and fear that crept its way back into the drivers seat, ridding the only saviours of sanity that the boy could hope for. No, this echoing declaration of murderous intent was a force of nature, much more powerful and wiser than the pitiful pathetic morality of a developing human brain. It was old, older than humanity itself and somehow the immature child that it plagued could sense this, perhaps that's why he served its every demand or perhaps the mortal child was never in control from the start.

"Feed me!"

A perfect murderer, a silent assassin that fits in everywhere, never looking out of place especially in the past. A beautiful feature of the Earth, hiding a revolting, terrifying truth that should never be discovered. Societies developed around it, sinking to the ice cold depths of time, empires flourished and collapsed before it, children grew up blissfully unaware of the evil that stands proudly near them. Most children.

"You will feed me!"

The sound emanates from a pretty if not ordinary pear tree, a pear tree that should never be sampled by mere humans, a forbidden fruit that cunningly sits dormant, preying on the weak minded by appearing with such gorgeous varieties of colour, grass green skin wrapped around juicy dripping clear flesh. Timeless bait, always sitting, always waiting, always bold with the knowledge someone will sample it's delicious cruel soul. Once chosen by the tree, you are his, you are him and he is you. No emotion remains, history is crushed by her omnipotent presence and in it's wake an unquenching need to feed and to eat. Manipulated purely by intentions to survive, the fruit grants eternal life as long as its subordinate parasite provides the energy. The fierce pear tree grants the subject the life energy that it steals from the victims, the young boy was drowning in the crimson life force drained from his father, granting him the 20 years that his dad had left. Old and wrinkled, the pear developed in his sight, it had a familiar scent.

"You will feed me more!"

That ever present voice corrupted using no audible sound, it rushed directly into the brain of his followers, an accent that we all recognise, one that lives in the deepest darkest pits of our merciful knowledge, it haunts us whilst we sleep and attacks at our weakest, we all know the voice even if our fragile sanity kindly shields us from the memories. The young boy no longer had the pleasure of that selective deafness, it will be the only voice he ever hears now, bursting his ear drums, crippling them with ease like discarded paper, an agonising pool of lava warped through his ears leaving red stains down his shirt, yet he felt nothing, nothing but that God damned hunger, father did not suffice, the seducing tree craves more and the boy will obediently deliver, lest he becomes the immaculate pear sitting on that innocent horrific pear tree.

"Feed me her"

Clouds watched on in horror as they attempted to float away from the terrors beneath them, the breeze granting them immeasurable mercy, permitting them to vacate the area. She didn't scream, that was the worst part, just one solitary lonely tear heaved its way through the corner of her eye. The boys mother did not run, deep down she knew time had caught up, her own son transforming into the angel of death that dragged her from the land of living to the world of decay, death and despair. A much colder land imprisoned by the icy winding roots that penetrate the virgin grass below, waiting to capture and enslave us all, despite the promises of a divine and picturesque paradise above. Love and maternal nature was the last of the soul to be sucked from her, it faded from her iris' like paint from a sun scorched abandoned piece of art work. Chunks of calcium flicked and spattered as the dagger like branch snapped back from her skull, yanking all but the frontal lobe from the dome of bone. A battalion of serrated winding ivy infested branches all plunged into her soft tissue simultaneously, bleeding her dry and vacuuming out her soul for its own twisted uses. A faint flicker of the boys humanity shined through the infinite darkness that grasped his heart, he had realised what he'd done. Matricide.

"I need more, feed me more. Now!"

Petrified, ashamed and drowning with unimaginable regret the boy let out a harsh sob. His body shook intensely as if consumed by a violent fit of epilepsy, seizing from the terror that had just haunted his darkened eyes. For the briefest of seconds a vision of his wretched future flashed across his synapses, a fate much worse than death, filled with nothing but dread, a stepping stone between hell and purgatory. Skin pierced by the same wood that has stolen lives from each millennia since the dawn of time. No longer could he idly hide away in his solemn mind, he had to act fast before the gorgeous pear tree injected itself back into him, piloting his body and shunning his personality. Mother nature had begun its conquest once more, wrapping itself around his limbs, he could no longer take a single step, she had begun the vile puppet master once more.


It plunged towards him and he to it. It felt like hours as the ultimate point grew closer to his dull placid eyes. He had fallen or perhaps he jumped, either way, the reaper was soon to have a gruesome job. Severing his optic nerve a revoltingly loud 'ping' occurred as the thin strip of muscle slithered its way back into the desirable shadows. Skewered and dripping with blood of brown and green his face slid further down, absorbing each splinter on the way, finally stopping with thousands of puncture holes smothering his face. A long awaited smile relaxed across his face, the first one since his baby teeth had pierced the perfect fruit long ago. Light fled and the abysmal void flourished upon the boy. Suddenly the soil erupted and tore apart, welcoming his mortal body into its evergreen grass, he was to be buried, too soon, only a fleeting moment after he left the cradle. Sparking into existence, a young, soft and fresh pear sits patiently on an innocent looking pear tree, just waiting to be sampled. Always waiting...


About the Creator

Ben Cardy

19 year old writer, I focus mainly on short horror literature, inspired by Edgar Allen Poe, HP Lovecraft and others.

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