Gemotions

The saw teeth had left their mark on the stump, a gaping wound where once a sapling had reached for the sky. A cold sweat slicked down Elias’s back despite the unseasonable warmth. He’d driven past this spot, the place where his mother had helped him plant the oak, every single day for the last thirty years. Now, only a jagged reminder remained, and something in his gut twisted like a trapped animal.

He touched the rough wood, his fingers tracing the phantom silhouette of the tree. The sun felt too bright, and the birdsong a jarring, insistent chorus. Had someone been watching him? He glanced over his shoulder, but the empty road offered no answers, just a shimmering heat haze. His keys felt heavy in his pocket, clanking like a condemned man’s chains.

The hairs on the back of his neck prickled. He needed to get out of there, away from the scene. The air felt thick, charged with some unspoken threat. He imagined eyes watching him, unseen presences lurking in the shadows of the remaining trees.