Story Weavers

Chapter 1

Stella pressed her forehead against the cold glass of her bedroom window, staring out into the storm-torn backyard. The towering oak, the one that had always felt alive, was bending—not just from the wind, but in a way that defied nature. Its branches didn’t whip and snap like the others. They swayed with a fluid grace, curling and unraveling like fingers stretching after a long sleep.

The rain was relentless, hitting the ground so hard that puddles formed in seconds. Birds, desperate to escape, tried to take flight, their wings struggling against the weight of the storm. Some barely lifted before tumbling back down, their cries lost in the howling wind.

Stella shivered, not from the cold, but from the knowing.

Something was happening.

She grabbed her raincoat off the hook and yanked it over her shoulders, her fingers trembling as she buttoned it up. Whatever was out there—whatever was waking up—she needed to see it up close.

She turned toward her bedroom door, but before she could reach for the knob—

“Girl, get your behind back in your room!”

The sharpness of her mother’s voice cut through the storm, freezing Stella mid-step.

She spun to see her mother at the top of the stairs, her arms crossed, face shadowed in the dim candlelight. Her expression was tight, not just with authority, but with something else. Something close to fear.

“But, Momma—”

“I said get back in your room.”

Stella hesitated, her pulse pounding in her ears.

“You don’t see it?” she asked, her voice lower now, almost pleading. “The tree—it’s moving. Not just in the wind. It’s moving.”

Her mother’s eyes flicked to the window for a fraction of a second before settling back on Stella. Her face hardened.

“Ain’t nothing out there but the storm,” she said firmly. “And you don’t need to be running into it.”

“But—”

“No buts,” her mother snapped. “Storms come and go. Ain’t your business to be out there playing in it. You hear me?”

Stella clenched her jaw, her fingers balling into fists at her sides.

“Yes, ma’am,” she muttered.

Her mother gave a slow, knowing nod before turning away. “Lock your window,” she called over her shoulder. “Ain’t no telling what’ll blow in if you don’t.”

Stella lingered by the door, watching as her mother disappeared into the hallway.

She had no intention of staying put.

If the storm had awakened something, she was going to find out what.

Chapter 2

Hours passed.

The power never came back.

The storm still raged, wind rattling the windows, thunder cracking like the sky was splitting in two.

Stella lay on her bed, staring at the ceiling, listening for any sign of movement from her parents' room. She knew better than to sneak out while they were awake. But once the house fell into the heavy quiet of sleep, she would make her move.

She sat up, shifting her weight carefully, the mattress barely creaking beneath her. The house was dark, but not still. The air felt charged, humming with an unseen presence.

Then she heard it.

A knock.

Weak. Three soft raps against the front door.

Stella froze, her breath catching.

Her eyes flicked toward the hallway. Her parents hadn't stirred.

Then—

"Stella…"

A whisper.

Thin as mist. Calling her name from the other side of the door.

She swallowed hard, her heart slamming against her ribs. She should be scared. She should run back to bed and pull the covers over her head.

But she wasn’t afraid.

She was curious.

Slipping out of bed, she grabbed her raincoat and slid her arms into the sleeves. The air in the house felt thicker somehow, like the walls were holding their breath.

She crept toward the front door, the floor cool beneath her bare feet. The closer she got, the more she could hear it—

A rustling.

A slow, patient movement, like tree branches shifting without wind.

"Stella…"

Her fingers found the knob. It was cold. Too cold.

She hesitated.

Then, with a deep breath, she turned it—

And stepped outside.

Chapter 3

The storm swallowed her whole.

The wind howled, but she barely felt it. The rain lashed at her skin, but it wasn’t cold. It was alive, buzzing with energy, soaking her through as she stepped onto the porch.

She looked around.

The trees were still.

Too still.

They no longer bent and twisted. They stood tall, rigid…watching.

Then she saw them.

Figures in the dark.

Tall, slender shapes, shifting among the trees like shadows brought to life. Their limbs were long, their fingers tipped in sharp, gnarled branches. Their skin was the color of wet bark, slick and glistening in the storm. Their eyes—deep, hollow sockets—glowed with something that wasn’t light but awareness.

Stella inhaled sharply, but she didn’t move.

The creatures did not lunge. Did not chase.

They waited.

And then—

The ground beneath her feet trembled.

Her breath hitched as the driveway, once a familiar landmark, moved. The pavement cracked, not violently, but fluidly, like water shifting in a current. Her home, her anchor, was drifting away.

She turned in a panic, her eyes darting back to the figures. They were moving now, but not toward her. They were guiding her.

Down the street.

Toward the dead end.

Toward the towering oak she had always felt was more than just a tree.

And then she saw it.

The trunk was swollen, its bark stretched and smooth, as though something— someone —was inside.

It took shape in the form of a woman.

A pregnant woman.

Her belly was round, almost glowing in the darkness. The gnarled lines of bark curved into the soft slopes of a face—calm, serene, but powerful. The roots beneath her bulged, pulsing like veins, feeding something deep within the earth.

Stella’s breath shuddered in her chest.

She wasn’t sure if she should bow or run.

Chapter 4

The air between them thickened, as if the very storm had stilled in the presence of the ancient woman. The trees no longer swayed in chaos but pulsed in rhythm with something deeper—something breathing, waiting.

Stella stood frozen, her raincoat clinging to her skin, her heart hammering like distant thunder. The woman before her—no, the tree before her—was impossibly real. The bark of her body shimmered with rain, her smooth, swollen belly pulsing with life unseen. The energy that radiated from her wasn’t just warmth; it was knowing.

"Child, you have come."

Stella swallowed, her lips parting before she could stop herself. The words tumbled out, instinctual, as though answering the only voice that had ever truly called to her.

“Yes, Mother. I have.”

The woman smiled, a slow, knowing curve of lips that weren’t flesh but living bark. Her eyes—deep, hollow like the heart of an ancient tree—gleamed with something like pride.

“You hear them, don’t you?” she whispered.

Stella blinked.

“Them?” she echoed.

The woman lifted a hand, fingers long and slender like branches reaching toward the sky. At first, Stella thought she was pointing to the figures in the shadows, the ones who had led her here. But no—her hand did not lift to them.

She was pointing at the trees.

Stella’s pulse thrummed in her throat.

The wind carried no words, no whispers. And yet—

She did hear something.

A hum, low and deep, like a vibration beneath her skin. Not a song, not a voice, but something else.

Awareness.

The trees were watching.

Not like humans. Not like something that could speak. But they were present, listening, responding.

The woman’s fingers curled slightly, and as they did, a small cluster of buds bloomed at her fingertips.

Tiny, delicate flowers, dark like the night sky.

An offering.

The petals pulsed with an unnatural glow, their color shifting between deep violet and something richer, something that reminded Stella of the way the sky looked right before dawn—a color not yet named.

“Take it,” the woman said, her voice gentle, but full of power. “Let it know you. Let it tell you who you are.”

Stella hesitated.

The rain continued to fall, but she no longer felt it.

Her fingers twitched.

Her whole life, she had been drawn to the trees. To the wind. To the earth beneath her bare feet in the summer.

She had always known there was something more.

And now, here it was, being offered to her.

A gift. A choice.

She reached forward, slowly, her fingertips brushing against the petals. The moment she touched them, her breath hitched.

The world shifted.

Not physically—no, her body remained where it stood. But inside—

She was moving.

Falling.

Sinking into something vast and endless, like stepping into a river that had always been flowing beneath her feet.

Visions rushed through her mind, too fast to understand, but she felt them.

A forest before humans walked the earth.

Roots so deep they touched the molten core of the planet.

Creatures that no longer existed, running through mist-laden trees, their eyes reflecting the glow of moons that no longer shined.

She gasped, the air stolen from her lungs.

Her feet no longer felt solid on the ground. The world tilted, the trees breathing around her, their branches reaching, shifting—

The shadows in the woods stepped closer.

Watching.

Waiting.

Something inside her knew—this was it.

If she accepted this offering, she would never be the same.

She would hear the trees forever. Feel their pull, their hunger, their love. She would never walk through the world as just a girl again.

She would belong to something deeper, older.

But if she refused—

She would return to the silence.

She would go home. She would close her window at night. She would ignore the feeling in her bones that told her she was more than just skin and breath.

The woman watched her, patient, unhurried.

The choice was hers.

Stella’s fingers trembled around the petals, their glow pulsing against her palm.

She inhaled sharply.

Her heart pounded.

She swallowed.

And—