This one was actually the first short story I ever wrote. Back in the day, I used to go to a local library event called “junior writers club”, and it was basically a fun little meet-up where we’d get swap ideas, use story cubes and word prompts, and play all kinds of writing-based games. I technically wrote a whole bunch of stuff there, not just The Old Oak Tree, but that was the only one I feel was an actual story, not the product of a game.
Anyways, it was part of a year-end project where we all wrote something for a big ol’ pamphlet that would be given out to all the attending families, and this dark piece of nature horror was my contribution. See? Even as a kid, I was pretty twisted. Oh well.
As I mentioned in the summary, it was sparked primarily from my fear of forests. I mean, I feel like most people on an instinctual level are probably afraid of forests (or at least, you should be). Where I grew up, there were legit cougars in the woods (and I don’t mean thirsty old ladies), but even beyond that, there’s a cramped, closed-in feeling to the woods. You can’t see everywhere, but there’s always movement and noises coming from all around you. I remember writing Gravechasers on a park bench last summer, and I was just getting to a really good part, my creative juices were flowing, then I looked up and this squirrel was staring into my soul from the branches above me. I locked eyes with it, and it started s c r e a m i n g at me, shaking it’s fluffy little behind in the air while it did. I don’t know what it wanted with me, but it won. I had to leave.
Oh, and Snake Lake? That’s a real place. I have a friend that lives in Washington state, and when I asked him what would be a good park for this to take place in, he told me it should be Snake Lake. So yay, realism!
That’s all I’ve got. Stay away from forests, they’re full of loud, twerking squirrels.
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