HOllow's Grove
by Robert Eugene
Jo Habernath stopped in a rest stop town of Lakedge to fill up his car’s gas tank, despite it being only three-fourths full. He leaned against his car, having heard the pump already clicked, shutting off the flow of gasoline, yet could not move. He should hardly care about what happened here and yet a few words from a bunch of loitering teens was enough to halt him in deep consideration to detour his trip.
This ear-prickling story included ghosts and sacrificial grounds for serial killers - all speculations to disappearances that happened in the forest around here. Strange sounds had been heard at night and some creepy shadows had been spotted hanging around town.
The teens joked and teased each other about going as they illicitly drank in the parking lot. They said it was a peculiar-looking place, under the curve of the mighty oak tree that stretched like a giant hand covering the sun. One teen said it gave her an uncomfortable feeling where the air felt cold, the sun looked gray, and a weird smell of blood filled the air. The place they described was a small woodland grove which they called Hollow’s Grove.
One teen with long hair wiggled his fingers while blowing out a puff of smoke and telling the others that it was a portal to hell, where evil slithered out.
Jo held a sudden tempting idea as if everything felt like it was falling into place. This world, his mind, it all clicked together in the same way two magnets who are drawn too close together.
Ever since reaching this town, he felt something off-kilter. Driving down the highway, a tingle in his mind took attention away from his daydreaming mood during a long drive. He was making a weekend road trip to nowhere in particular. He chose to drive northeast and keep going until the highways ran out to near the east coast, then he would return home.
There had to be a reason.
After buying a pack of cigarettes from the convenience store, Jo walked over to the Lakedge Motel to ask about this grove, hoping to find some starting point to find it. Before he could enter, a one-legged homeless man, who called himself Bennie Ben, asked for change.
Having some spare dollars in his wallet, Jo relented, feeling guilty about not helping several highway beggars on the way here. It would be bad luck, he thought to not help someone out.
In exchange, a smiling Bennie provided a nice conversation while Jo decided he needed a smoke break. Favorably, they ended up on the destined topic of interest, where Jo asked about the grove. At that point, Bennie sat down against the wall of the Motel and clenched the nub of his missing leg.
“Never step foot where the ground echoes below. True emptiness is never empty,” he gravely advised.
Jo found this warning to be gibberish and he completely ignored the advice, more enticed by other details.
“Why is it called Hollow’s Grove? Is there a cave there?” Jo asked, letting out a breath of smoke.
Bennie snorted and chuckled.
“You won’t find what you seek. That’s why. It’s a meaningless vain attempt, “he said to Jo harshly.
Jo frowned, extinguished his cigarette, and disposed of it in the sand of the stone ash urn, having heard enough for him to make a decision.
Jo pressed Bennie one last time for more details of where this grove was located, but he remained silent, unable to give him the right answer to his growing desire.
This ear-prickling story included ghosts and sacrificial grounds for serial killers - all speculations to disappearances that happened in the forest around here. Strange sounds had been heard at night and some creepy shadows had been spotted hanging around town.
The teens joked and teased each other about going as they illicitly drank in the parking lot. They said it was a peculiar-looking place, under the curve of the mighty oak tree that stretched like a giant hand covering the sun. One teen said it gave her an uncomfortable feeling where the air felt cold, the sun looked gray, and a weird smell of blood filled the air. The place they described was a small woodland grove which they called Hollow’s Grove.
One teen with long hair wiggled his fingers while blowing out a puff of smoke and telling the others that it was a portal to hell, where evil slithered out.
Jo held a sudden tempting idea as if everything felt like it was falling into place. This world, his mind, it all clicked together in the same way two magnets who are drawn too close together.
Ever since reaching this town, he felt something off-kilter. Driving down the highway, a tingle in his mind took attention away from his daydreaming mood during a long drive. He was making a weekend road trip to nowhere in particular. He chose to drive northeast and keep going until the highways ran out to near the east coast, then he would return home.
There had to be a reason.
After buying a pack of cigarettes from the convenience store, Jo walked over to the Lakedge Motel to ask about this grove, hoping to find some starting point to find it. Before he could enter, a one-legged homeless man, who called himself Bennie Ben, asked for change.
Having some spare dollars in his wallet, Jo relented, feeling guilty about not helping several highway beggars on the way here. It would be bad luck, he thought to not help someone out.
In exchange, a smiling Bennie provided a nice conversation while Jo decided he needed a smoke break. Favorably, they ended up on the destined topic of interest, where Jo asked about the grove. At that point, Bennie sat down against the wall of the Motel and clenched the nub of his missing leg.
“Never step foot where the ground echoes below. True emptiness is never empty,” he gravely advised.
Jo found this warning to be gibberish and he completely ignored the advice, more enticed by other details.
“Why is it called Hollow’s Grove? Is there a cave there?” Jo asked, letting out a breath of smoke.
Bennie snorted and chuckled.
“You won’t find what you seek. That’s why. It’s a meaningless vain attempt, “he said to Jo harshly.
Jo frowned, extinguished his cigarette, and disposed of it in the sand of the stone ash urn, having heard enough for him to make a decision.
Jo pressed Bennie one last time for more details of where this grove was located, but he remained silent, unable to give him the right answer to his growing desire.
Jo took his time walking there, having to wade through the thick and itchy brush for hours. He dusted ticks off every so often while swatting away pesky swarms of gnats and avoided stepping on cottonmouths resting under the fallen branches. During this trek, he had become resilient to the unavoidable spider webs arching in every direction, and the humid climate that made it hard to even sweat.
The motel owner had given him a vague idea of where the grove was located, naming a trailhead that went by it, however, she stopped short giving more precise directions, held back by a nervous hesitation that was like Bennie’s.
The environment changed at the top of the plateau as Jo ascended the boulder-filled hill. At the top, the ground was now flat and had a distinctly different feeling from the woods.
It had to be the place.
Jo looked up and realized he had reached the grove when there was a slight humming coming from this all around. The clouds hung around almost unmoving, giving a somber sight to the trees. This was a place devoid of cell service despite being at a higher elevation.
Ahead of him was a single enormous oak tree. It was by far the best marker of this precarious spot, being tucked far into the mountainous woods. The massive tree rose above all the others and the many branches held its arms wide. It was a fearsome and daunting tree.
Jo noticed another odd thing.
It was lonely here.
There was a noticeable emptiness around him. The gnats which had eaten at him like a full course meal had disappeared without a trace. There was no sign of animals or even ants on the ground. All life, but the vegetation and the trees were evicted from this place.
It was as if the grove segmented itself off from the rest of the forest, cut out from some faraway place that had stitched itself unnaturally into the surrounding grounds. There were no signs that someone had trimmed the vegetation around. It was as if Hollow’s Grove knew not to overgrow, curtailing all but short patches of clovers and dandelions that bloomed in the middle of the open space.
An overwhelming feeling sank into his chest.
Jo stepped around a dirty boot that had sunk into the ground. Unnerved, yet undaunted, he stepped into the realm of the grove where he reached his hand out and touched a vine hanging down in his way. He turned it over in his hands, realizing it was kudzu. This plant grew abundantly all over the grove, masking the oak tree, and hiding the bark in a shaggy mess. The leaves rained down in the air like forest green hair.
The flora was enchanting and haunting at the same time.
Jo now recognized this feeling.
In this world, those types of feelings were born from a cold terror, a traumatic memory, where the existential drenched moments flood the brain. True fear is experienced right when a person sees destruction as an inevitable reality and realizes they can do nothing about it. They should soften the anxiety by looking away, closing their eyes, and wishing for something else other than pain, but they cannot look away.
This part of the forest felt the same: it was unwavering and uncaring.
Jo kept walking in the grove and sat on a rotten log that had fallen right below the oak tree. He rubbed his legs in a sudden ache of tiredness as his ears started to ring. With a pop of his jaw, it suddenly stopped, but Jo remained restless. The air was thicker than normal, retaining wetness that stuck to his skin and settled into his lungs as he looked at the ground. The yellow flowers gave a splash of color to an otherwise dreary place. And that was the only happiness around.
A rustled motion caught his eye.
Jo flung himself up at the realization a figure stood in front of him, some ten feet away.
“Wh-who are you!” Jo yelled, stumbling back over the log in fright.
Jo scuttled backward on all fours like a helpless animal.
The figure was hard to identify.
Several layers of clothes wrapped around the body from scuffed boots to several worn-out sweaters, ripped scarfs, and faded gloves. No normal person could feel comfortable wearing so many clothes on a hot day like today.
“I live here,” the person grumbled. The voice was deep, raspy, and slow, having a near-monotone quality. It was off-putting even when displaying a little tone of threat.
“Sorry. I don’t mean to disturb you. I was not aware of this being owned by anyone. I have no intentions of staying here long. I was just passing by,” Jo quickly said, dusting himself off, but not taking an eye off the guy in front of him.
“Stay here. It is all right.”
Jo’s body went rigid in fear.
That was not what he was expecting to hear and said in a way that was not right.
“I think I will get going. Leave you be. I have places to be,” Jo lied.
The figure did not move, but floated on vines beneath the muddy boots, rising into the air and casting a shadow on Jo, whose heart raced faster than any time before in his life.
“You came here to find something, and I know what it is,” the figure said, holding out arms that began to stretch, ripping the clothing as they extended.
In an unbelievable sight, the figure’s arms were made of roots, growing out dozens of feet and falling to the ground.
Bursting out of the bundle of clothes came tree limbs that had come alive and moved around like snakes. The scraps of cloth fell to the ground relieving nothing, but a person-shaped knot of roots.
Jo twisted around and bolted, but before he could make it out of the edge of the grove, his legs were ripped from him. He tripped down, face-planting into the dirt.
“Ahhhhggg,” Jo yelled after gasping for air.
He hit the ground hard. Leaves clung to his face as his eyes watered and he tried to get up.
A root had wrapped around his ankle.
“LET GOOO!” he screamed trying to get away.
Jo was flung up to the treetops and then back down into the groove, crashing right down into the earth, breaking his bones with the sound of crunching so loud he did not even hear his screams. Without giving him time to think about anything but the onslaught of pain, Jo was thrown against the wall of a cave and bound to hundreds of crisscrossing roots.
He became molded into the wall of earth and crushed further as the roots tighten against his body. Jo tried to scream for help, but the root that gagged his mouth prevented his voice from being heard.
In the end, Jo found out the grove was hollow.
All around him, he saw bodies, tied up by the same roots that had ensnared him. All of them were now skin-covered bones. They were not entirely dead, but hardly alive with no thoughts in their brains. They barely breathed, only existing to feed their life to the predator who trapped them.
Jo panicked and fought against the immovable roots with all his might. Unfortunately, nothing could be done. He had wasted all his energy and went limp. All he could do now was breathe.
Jo’s eyes stretched wide open as he saw the base of the oak tree hidden beneath the earth. There was a grotesque face made from wrinkles of the trunk. It cracked in the shape of a moving mouth. The oak was alive, and the grove was its home.
“You will now find what you seek…and that is true peace,” uttered the same voice.
Jo’s lungs screamed for air and his mind screamed for something to free him.
And in the end, it did.
Somewhere back in town, Bennie laughed, while resting in the evening sun.
He knew full well all those who wander without a true purpose into a hollow grove will find something- not what they desire, but what the Hollow One desires.
The motel owner had given him a vague idea of where the grove was located, naming a trailhead that went by it, however, she stopped short giving more precise directions, held back by a nervous hesitation that was like Bennie’s.
The environment changed at the top of the plateau as Jo ascended the boulder-filled hill. At the top, the ground was now flat and had a distinctly different feeling from the woods.
It had to be the place.
Jo looked up and realized he had reached the grove when there was a slight humming coming from this all around. The clouds hung around almost unmoving, giving a somber sight to the trees. This was a place devoid of cell service despite being at a higher elevation.
Ahead of him was a single enormous oak tree. It was by far the best marker of this precarious spot, being tucked far into the mountainous woods. The massive tree rose above all the others and the many branches held its arms wide. It was a fearsome and daunting tree.
Jo noticed another odd thing.
It was lonely here.
There was a noticeable emptiness around him. The gnats which had eaten at him like a full course meal had disappeared without a trace. There was no sign of animals or even ants on the ground. All life, but the vegetation and the trees were evicted from this place.
It was as if the grove segmented itself off from the rest of the forest, cut out from some faraway place that had stitched itself unnaturally into the surrounding grounds. There were no signs that someone had trimmed the vegetation around. It was as if Hollow’s Grove knew not to overgrow, curtailing all but short patches of clovers and dandelions that bloomed in the middle of the open space.
An overwhelming feeling sank into his chest.
Jo stepped around a dirty boot that had sunk into the ground. Unnerved, yet undaunted, he stepped into the realm of the grove where he reached his hand out and touched a vine hanging down in his way. He turned it over in his hands, realizing it was kudzu. This plant grew abundantly all over the grove, masking the oak tree, and hiding the bark in a shaggy mess. The leaves rained down in the air like forest green hair.
The flora was enchanting and haunting at the same time.
Jo now recognized this feeling.
In this world, those types of feelings were born from a cold terror, a traumatic memory, where the existential drenched moments flood the brain. True fear is experienced right when a person sees destruction as an inevitable reality and realizes they can do nothing about it. They should soften the anxiety by looking away, closing their eyes, and wishing for something else other than pain, but they cannot look away.
This part of the forest felt the same: it was unwavering and uncaring.
Jo kept walking in the grove and sat on a rotten log that had fallen right below the oak tree. He rubbed his legs in a sudden ache of tiredness as his ears started to ring. With a pop of his jaw, it suddenly stopped, but Jo remained restless. The air was thicker than normal, retaining wetness that stuck to his skin and settled into his lungs as he looked at the ground. The yellow flowers gave a splash of color to an otherwise dreary place. And that was the only happiness around.
A rustled motion caught his eye.
Jo flung himself up at the realization a figure stood in front of him, some ten feet away.
“Wh-who are you!” Jo yelled, stumbling back over the log in fright.
Jo scuttled backward on all fours like a helpless animal.
The figure was hard to identify.
Several layers of clothes wrapped around the body from scuffed boots to several worn-out sweaters, ripped scarfs, and faded gloves. No normal person could feel comfortable wearing so many clothes on a hot day like today.
“I live here,” the person grumbled. The voice was deep, raspy, and slow, having a near-monotone quality. It was off-putting even when displaying a little tone of threat.
“Sorry. I don’t mean to disturb you. I was not aware of this being owned by anyone. I have no intentions of staying here long. I was just passing by,” Jo quickly said, dusting himself off, but not taking an eye off the guy in front of him.
“Stay here. It is all right.”
Jo’s body went rigid in fear.
That was not what he was expecting to hear and said in a way that was not right.
“I think I will get going. Leave you be. I have places to be,” Jo lied.
The figure did not move, but floated on vines beneath the muddy boots, rising into the air and casting a shadow on Jo, whose heart raced faster than any time before in his life.
“You came here to find something, and I know what it is,” the figure said, holding out arms that began to stretch, ripping the clothing as they extended.
In an unbelievable sight, the figure’s arms were made of roots, growing out dozens of feet and falling to the ground.
Bursting out of the bundle of clothes came tree limbs that had come alive and moved around like snakes. The scraps of cloth fell to the ground relieving nothing, but a person-shaped knot of roots.
Jo twisted around and bolted, but before he could make it out of the edge of the grove, his legs were ripped from him. He tripped down, face-planting into the dirt.
“Ahhhhggg,” Jo yelled after gasping for air.
He hit the ground hard. Leaves clung to his face as his eyes watered and he tried to get up.
A root had wrapped around his ankle.
“LET GOOO!” he screamed trying to get away.
Jo was flung up to the treetops and then back down into the groove, crashing right down into the earth, breaking his bones with the sound of crunching so loud he did not even hear his screams. Without giving him time to think about anything but the onslaught of pain, Jo was thrown against the wall of a cave and bound to hundreds of crisscrossing roots.
He became molded into the wall of earth and crushed further as the roots tighten against his body. Jo tried to scream for help, but the root that gagged his mouth prevented his voice from being heard.
In the end, Jo found out the grove was hollow.
All around him, he saw bodies, tied up by the same roots that had ensnared him. All of them were now skin-covered bones. They were not entirely dead, but hardly alive with no thoughts in their brains. They barely breathed, only existing to feed their life to the predator who trapped them.
Jo panicked and fought against the immovable roots with all his might. Unfortunately, nothing could be done. He had wasted all his energy and went limp. All he could do now was breathe.
Jo’s eyes stretched wide open as he saw the base of the oak tree hidden beneath the earth. There was a grotesque face made from wrinkles of the trunk. It cracked in the shape of a moving mouth. The oak was alive, and the grove was its home.
“You will now find what you seek…and that is true peace,” uttered the same voice.
Jo’s lungs screamed for air and his mind screamed for something to free him.
And in the end, it did.
Somewhere back in town, Bennie laughed, while resting in the evening sun.
He knew full well all those who wander without a true purpose into a hollow grove will find something- not what they desire, but what the Hollow One desires.
Robert Eugene writes short stories doodles when time permits. He likes cats and ice cream. His other works can be found at roberteugenetories.wordpress.com and on Instagram @ugenestories.