The Forest in Appalachia Remembered Her Face and Followed Her Home

The Teeth in the Trees

As she ran, branches slapped her face, roots grabbed at her ankles, but Harper didn’t slow down. It wasn’t just fear; it was instinct, the old kind, buried deep in her bones. She finally stopped at a clearing. That’s when she saw them. Teeth. Dozens of them. Nailed into trees, growing from bark, some yellowed and cracked like human molars, others jagged and wrong.

They clicked softly, one after the other, as if chewing the wind. In the center of the clearing stood a tree with a face carved into it—hers: same eyes, same scar. And when the wind blew, it whispered her name.

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