Buried Roots by Terra Weiss EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Author: Terra Weiss
- Language: English
- Genre: Amateur Sleuth Mysteries
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
The Gnarly Tree
The car fishtails.
My knuckles go white as I pump the brake, but the tires have no
traction. The car spins, and endless pine trees whiz by.
This is exactly how my adoptive parents died.
I don’t have time to die right now—I have work crap piled a mile high on
my desk that no one else can do.
After seconds that seem like hours, everything jolts to a stop. The car is
on the shoulder of the creepy back road, and I scan my body for cuts and
bruises. There are none, and relief washes over me.
Looks like I’m not dying, at least, not today—the day I’m driving into a
strange town under stranger circumstances.
Still stunned, I glance out the windshield. The mist wafts through the air
like an infinite ghost, but I can see it up close now—the thing that caused
me to veer off the road.
“It’s just a tree. Knock it off, Willow Dawson,” I mumble, but my heart
isn’t listening as it thuds wildly in my chest. It’s because it knows it’s not
just any tree—it’s the one that’s appeared in my night terrors for as long as I
can remember. A monstrosity perched on a hill.
It’s a magnolia, which makes sense. Georgia is full of them. But this one
stands alone, high in a clearing, its trunk unnaturally large. What stops my
breath is the enormous branch that leans so far to one side, it appears to
float like a feat of gravity.
In my nightmares, it’s always advancing, warp speed, then wrapping its
limbs around me until everything goes black.
This cannot be a coincidence.
It’s always eaten at me—why I’m haunted by a tree I’ve never seen. My
legs feel like Jell-O as I step out of the car, so I shake them as I breathe in
the thick air. It’s my first time in the South, and they, whoever they are,
aren’t joking—it’s stifling in Georgia, especially in July. Shards of sunlight
appear through the splitting clouds, which remind me of the stretched
cotton candy from Coney Island. I have fond memories there, but that was
before.
I walk around assessing the damage, my stilettos sinking into the red-clay
dirt with every step. Miraculously, the vehicle looks unscathed—only the
left tires are stuck in a shallow ditch. It’ll be ugly, but I can peel the car out.
Pops taught me how… along with changing a flat, and all the other handy
things that make me good at my job. “Happiness is dirty hands and a clean
conscience, Willow,” he’d say. And, as it turns out, I’ve needed both, just to
survive. I miss him so much. Every day.
Through the haze, I stare at this hellish tree on the hill above me. I’m slow
to approach this hideous oddity of nature, but I have to look at it. Even
though everything in me pleads not to, my feet trudge up the hill.
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