They serve as a reminder that the tree in my yard has moved closer again. The creaking of the branches against the windowpane keeps me up at night. I can’t shake the feeling that something is out there, lurking amongst the leaves. Every time I close my eyes, I envision gnarled fingers reaching through the glass to grab at me. I try to convince myself that it’s just the wind, but I know deep down that there’s something else at play. One night, I wake up to the sound of scratching, like something is trying to claw its way inside. I muster up the courage to look outside, but all I see are the empty branches swaying in the moonlight. But as I turn back to my bed, I see muddy footprints leading away from the window, into the darkness beyond.
