The Demon Tree
by museRose’s seat was the third from the end on a continuous desk that could seat seven, but she was one of only two that morning over her first cup of coffee. The desk faced the back of someone’s monitor; to her right was the senior writer, Ania, who had given her a tour yesterday in a banana-yellow sweater. Today, they wore gray and black leggings and had not looked up when Rose said good morning.
Most of the paper’s staff worked remotely. That meant an empty office but no one pressed up on either side of her (not like her last workplace), and the atmosphere was quiet. The place had nothing going for it looks wise: contractor beige paint a decade overdue for touchups, those flecked gray laminate tiles you saw in every office building, an OSHA poster in the break room. Push pins marked where something had once been pinned to the walls. The corner of a page remained where it had been ripped down.
The only thing of interest was a tree maybe three blocks away that was taller than the neighboring building and stood out behind the tarred rooftop. At least this office had windows. Kay worked in document processing for a law firm, which meant an interior office. No sunlight.
Rose stared at the tree for a few sips and focused on her email. The first assignment kept her busy until lunch time. She submitted it to the remote editor and huddled beneath the fluorescent lights in the windowless breakroom, gnawing on a turkey sandwich. The wheat bread had gone soggy after hours in the refrigerator and had a sour aftertaste. She forced it down and returned to her desk with another mug of coffee.
Was it normal to be this bored on the second day? Even the nerves she’d expected to accompany a new job weren’t there. Rose finished her assignments and stopped by the grocery store on the way home for milk and a different type of bread.
After the first week, she stopped worrying that Ania didn’t greet her in the mornings and stopped following the rule about no food outside of the breakroom. Ania rarely looked up from their monitor and said nothing when Rose settled with her lunch by the window. Over the neighboring rooftop, the tree seemed to wave.
A month in, Rose gave the tour to a new sales hire who took the desk two spots to her left. That was also the day the dreams started.
A hallway, a network of doors. Corridors jutting off like limbs. She was walking through them toward an end that never came.
The corridors branched, stranding her in cavernous, empty spaces like massive versions of the break room with its stark beige walls. It reminded her of a dead shopping mall she’d gone to a few times with Kay when they both lived back home. A gym had rented the space because it was cheap. Every time they went to work out, Rose would have to walk past the empty stores gaping at them behind dusty lowered grates.
“Just don’t look at them,” Kay would say while sipping a smoothie. She’d always kept her eyes forward.
Unlike the mall, this place wasn’t frightening. Rose was supposed to be alone here. As she walked along the grid of tiles, fluorescent bulbs crackled to life overhead, illuminating the next stretch of doors in a strange greenish light. It felt friendly, this absence of shadows, the locked white doors. Nothing staring, nothing waiting.
She had no destination. It didn’t matter that the doors were locked; she had no reason to open them.
“Make these corrections and then you can post it.”
Ania spoke without looking Rose in the eye. Between them on the empty desk, they laid a printed copy of her article marked up with blue ballpoint ink that reminded her of high school English classes.
“Thanks,” Rose muttered and snatched up the paper.
She had woken suddenly in the night, which had cost her a precious hour of sleep, and yawned as she reviewed the corrections. Who did this stuff by hand anymore? The suggestion tool would’ve saved them both time. At least the suggestions were solid. She edited the piece and submitted it for posting.
The remote editor messaged her with a thumbs-up emoji.
Sourdough bread held up better in a lunchbox than whole wheat. She ate lunch by the window and yawned through a book, raising her eyes occasionally to the spot of green.
That night she dreamt of the same hallway, the same doors, but again today she didn’t open any. She was walking toward a voice she hadn’t heard yesterday. It was faint, a child’s voice. Not one she recognized, but if it was lost, then she would help. It came from somewhere farther down the corridor: a little cry, some coughing and a shout.
“Are you coming?” it wailed.
“Where are you?” Rose called in a cheerful voice. “Keep talking so I can find you.”
“I’m scared. It’s dark in here.”
“There’s no reason to be afraid. Darkness itself can’t hurt you. If it scares you not to see, close your eyes until I get there, but I need you to speak again. I’m not sure which way to go.”
“Is it dark where you are too?”
“No, I can see.”
“Are you sure?” asked the child.
“Yes, there’s plenty of light, I promise. What’s your name?”
The child said nothing.
“I’m Rose. How did you get down here?”
“I’ve always been here,” said the child.
Taran used to make up the same sort of lies when they’d been children. Putting on her best big-sister voice, she said, “Ahh, I see. Where are your parents?”
“Where are yours?”
“We live in different places. I’m grown up. Do you have siblings?”
“No, it’s just me.”
“My brother is a few years younger than I am, but we used to play hide and seek like this when we were little.”
“You’re not supposed to talk during that game.”
“True. We’re playing a variation. If you don’t talk to me, I won’t know what door you’re behind.”
“I’m getting tired,” said the child through a yawn.
“I know, but just keep talking. Keep talking to me, okay? Hello?”
Lights continued to flicker on as she walked toward morning, but the child didn’t speak again.
“You don’t look so good,” Kay said. She’d always been blunt like that. She left her shoes by the apartment’s door and dropped a grocery store bag on the laminate kitchen counter. “Is your work schedule that bad? It’s only been a month.”
Rose shrugged. “Just boring.”
“What do they have you doing, writing obituaries?”
“Those are all provided. We do watch social media for death mentions, though. They mostly have me writing listicles: eight must-have tech gadgets that won’t break the bank, the summer’s must-have ice cream flavors according to Reddit. That sort of thing. It’s all about clickthrough rates and referral links.”
“Are the gadgets any good?”
“No idea. We base the articles off of online reviews.” Rose poured herself a substantial glass of five-dollar wine. “The serious journalists are remote. We’re the digital content staff.”
“What’s the point?”
“To keep site traffic up. It’s important for the advertisers.”
“Sounds awful.” Kay poured wine for herself and drank it down in one go. “I never trust those lists. If there’s money involved, you can be sure someone isn’t telling the truth.”
“How’s your job going?” Rose asked.
“I hate it, but there’s a cute girl in the next cubicle.”
Kay had always been blunt about that too, but lately it had been making Rose blush.
“You should be at her place then,” she mumbled and looked in the refrigerator as though it contained anything but cold cuts.
“She can feed herself.” Kay nudged Rose’s shoulder as she walked past to take out a pot. She filled it with water and put it on the stove. “I’m making spaghetti. There are things for garlic bread.”
That was her cue to play sous chef. The grocery bag held a loaf of Italian bread, a tub of butter, Italian spice mix, olive oil, dried pasta, and a jar of sauce.
“I knew you’d have ice cream and wine,” Kay said as rooted around for a saucepan.
“Hey, have you ever had the same dream multiple times?”
Kay thought for a moment and poured the sauce into the pan. “Not really. The elements repeat sometimes. I’ve dreamed about running a stop sign with my little sister in the backseat of the car, but it’s always a different dream.“
“I keep dreaming of the same place,” Rose said. “It’s like an underground hallway system. Every time I fall asleep, I see it.”
“Sounds awful.”
“It’s actually peaceful. I just walk and walk until I wake up.”
Rose wasn’t sure why she didn’t mention the voice.
“I’m jealous,” Kay said. “My dreams are chaotic and I never realize I’m dreaming at the time. Don’t they say dreams are how our minds process our lives? You just started a new job. Maybe it makes sense that you’re wandering a lot of hallways.”
“But for weeks?”
“If you’re worried then go talk to a therapist. But it’s just a dream.” Kay opened the upper cabinets and sighed. “As I thought, you have no food. I usually shop on Sunday mornings. Why don’t you come with me?”
It was probably bad that a former roommate needed to take care of her.
“I’ll do delivery,” Rose mumbled.
“Send me a picture when it gets here. I’d better see more than sliced turkey.”
Three months into her job, Rose was having trouble waking up on time. The child wailed when she had to leave it, and she could still hear that sound in the shower and on the train. She wouldn’t have cared much back in college, but a job required her to be at her desk by nine o’clock. The third time she tiptoed in forty minutes late, she set up a remote doctor’s appointment.
The doctor on her phone screen recommended no caffeine after mid-day and cutting back on wine to a glass at dinner. “Those can both interfere with sleep,” she said. “And maintain a consistent schedule. Go to bed and wake at the same time. How is your diet?”
“I eat a lot of turkey,” said Rose.
“I’d like you to take a multivitamin in case it’s a nutrient deficiency. They’re inexpensive and you can buy them over the counter. And limit your screen time an hour before bed.”
Rose didn’t bother saying she read paper books at bedtime and often lost sight of her phone.
She ordered herbal tea and put the wine in the refrigerator with a post-it stuck to it that said “No.” She set alarms reminding her to sleep at eleven and to go running. She texted Kay to say she’d go along with her to the store on Sunday and ordered vitamins.
But even awake, the voice in the corridor called to her.
It was deeper lately, less childlike. More like Taran’s had been the last time they talked. How long ago had that been now? Dad said he’d moved back to their home town and was living with someone. They weren’t an hour from her. She ought to call them and invite the pair over for drinks. She’d been a decent big sister once.
Walking the dream’s corridors had lost some of its shine. Here and there a light would be burned out, and she would miss her step in places the carpet was fraying. As the visits grew in number, the voice grew impatient, scolding her for being too slow.
“I just want to get out of here,” it said. “Why won’t you help me?”
“I’ve been trying to,” Rose said, fighting to keep irritation out of her tone. “Why won’t you come to the door and look out?”
“That’s not how this works,” it said.
“Listen, this isn’t funny anymore. I’ll help you if you really want me to, but I think you like me walking around in circles.”
The voice laughed, sounding more like a child again, but the doors along the corridors remained shut.
She was in the corridor again when she heard a different voice.
“Rose. Rose. Hey, can you hear me?”
Rose blinked herself awake at her desk. She was sitting in her office. Ania was staring at her from two seats away.
“Sorry, did I fall asleep?” Rose said. The words came out in a slurry. She rubbed her eyes and blinked until they watered.
“Are you getting sick? You’ve been nodding off all morning.”
Drawing her shoulder blades together, she perceived a stiffness and grimaced. “I think it might be a cold.”
“Why don’t you work from home today?”
Rose’s eyes drifted to the window, to the tree in the distance. Her own windows looked out at other buildings. If she went home now, she’d go back to bed and have to use a sick day.
“I think I’ll eat something,” she said.
She dozed off in the kitchen waiting for the coffee to brew and smacked her head on an upper cabinet. Sitting by the window to eat, she rubbed the sore spot.
“You’re early,” said the voice curling in her ear. She could almost feel the heat of its mouth and whipped around, but there was no one else in the corridor.
“Rose, phone call,” Ania shouted and wrenched her back into the office.
She walked unsteadily to her desk and held the receiver to her ear.
“Why did you leave?” asked the child-who-was-no-longer-a-child. “You’d just gotten here.”
She felt hands on her shoulders. Ania was lowering her to a chair.
“I’m sorry, Ms. Jameson is unable to speak just now,” they said into the phone while mouthing are you alright?
Rose shook her head.
She splurged for a taxi home. The driver woke her when they’d arrived and she stumbled inside, taking the stairs so that she could not fall asleep in the elevator. As soon as she was in the apartment, she walked to the couch and lay down.
“Why do you keep leaving?” said the voice almost immediately. “You said you’d help me.”
This isn’t real, Rose thought.
Although she dragged herself to the kitchen and brewed strong tea, which she drank with the television blaring, exhaustion pulled on her eyelids. The mug in her hands trembled. She set it down and tried jumping jacks. Running in place. Her legs had no energy and she collapsed like a felled tree onto the beige carpet.
As soon as her head hit the floor, her eyes closed.
“There’s no point in trying to resist it,” said the voice, which sounded almost amused. “You belong here now.”
The corridor lights flickered like sickly fireflies.
“What does that mean?” Rose asked.
The voice did not answer, but a door further along the corridor swung open—the first time one ever had. She hurried toward it, taking a deep breath before she went inside. In a moment she would know what they looked like, the owner of the voice. She would understand the months of dreams.
There was no one in the room, only a single bed underneath a window. She swept aside the plain curtain covering the glass and beheld the view from her office window.
“Where are you?” she shouted. “I’m tired of this game. Do you hear me? I’m not looking for you anymore. Get out of here yourself.”
“You’ve already helped me,” said the voice. “I’m so much less lonely. You really should rest now.”
“I’m already asleep,” Rose said. She inched toward the door and put her hand firmly on the knob.
“Are you worried I’ll lock you in? That isn’t necessary. This all belongs to you. You can explore as much as you like, but there’s no rush. Why won’t you lie down?”
Rose went back into the hallway. “I want to see you first,” she said.
“It’ll disappoint you.”
“Why?”
“You’re asking because you think the answer will comfort you, but it won’t.”
“You’re just a part of my imagination. If I don’t want you here anymore, I can will you out of existence.”
The voice laughed as though it was watching a small child. “It’s sweet,” it said, “how you actually believe that.”
The corridor lights flickered and went out.
Rose steadied herself in the doorway to the open room, which still had light from the window.
“Hello?” she called. “Hey, answer me! I know you can hear me talking. Say something right now, asshole, or I’ll leave you here! I mean it, I won’t ever come here again.”
The voice didn’t answer. The corridor outside of the room stayed dark. Rose didn’t have her phone or a flashlight, so she had to stay where she was or risk getting lost. She sat on the bed, exactly like the one in her apartment, down to the spring that creaked as she lay down.
Through the window, she watched a storm blow in over the city, watched the distant tree hold fast against the wind. Lightning crackled across the sky, illuminating heavy clouds that glided to cover the moon so that within seconds, this room too was dark.
Wake up, she thought, drawing her knees toward her chest and holding onto them. Wake up.
Someone slapped her hard across the face. She groaned at the pain and raised a hand to her cheek.
“Oh good, you aren’t dead.” Kay slid a pillow beneath her head and laid a hand across Rose’s forehead.
“What are you doing here?” Rose asked.
“Your office called me.” Kay sounded out of breath. She sat on the floor beside Rose and put her head in her hands. “You have me as your emergency contact. They said you didn’t show up this morning and had been acting strange yesterday. I’ve been trying to get ahold of you for an hour. I even called your parents in case they’d heard from you, but your dad said you haven’t called once since starting your new job. So I told my boss I had a family emergency and came straight here.”
Rose tried to recall the previous day. “I was having trouble staying awake at work and took a cab home. I must have fallen asleep on the floor.”
Kay put her hand against Rose’s forehead and frowned. “You don’t have a fever. When was the last time you ate?”
When Rose didn’t answer right away, Kay rolled her eyes. “If you have to think about it, it’s been too long. Why didn’t you call me yesterday? I would have come over.”
Rose pushed upright and rolled her neck side to side. “It’s not your job to take care of me.”
“What’s wrong with caring for the people I love?”
Rose’s cheeks burned. “There’s nothing wrong with it. I only meant it’s not your responsibility.”
She couldn’t read the expression on Kay’s face. She didn’t appear angry, not exactly, but her eyebrows drew together and her eyes widened. After a few seconds, she glanced away.
“You know,” Kay said, wiping her eyes with a sleeve, “that’s the one thing I hate about you.” She got off of the floor and went into the kitchen. Cabinets opened and slammed. “You have no fucking food, as usual.”
On shaky legs, Rose followed after her. Kay was standing in front of the open refrigerator. On the lowest shelf where ingredients for sandwiches and a few bottled protein shakes were in the milk tray. Rose reached for one and closed the fridge. She poured the contents into a glass. The digital readout on the oven was blinking.
“Was there a power outage?” Rose asked.
“That storm yesterday pulled down a bunch of trees. The power wasn’t out for long, maybe forty minutes in my building. You weren’t awake for it? It was pouring as I left work yesterday. I can’t believe you didn’t hear the storm.”
“I must’ve been asleep already.” Rose paused and took a sip of the protein shake. “I’m sorry that I scared you.”
“I thought you were dead. I saw you on the floor and my mind went blank.” Kay cleared her throat. “I know you don’t like being reliant on other people, but you suck at taking care of yourself. Maybe it was a mistake to get separate apartments. We should at least be in the same building.”
“I thought I drove you nuts,” Rose said.
“You did. But I’d rather deal with that.”
“What about that girl at work?”
Kay finally turned around. “What about her?” she asked with a scowl.
“If you move back in with me, won’t it be a problem . . . I mean, assuming things work out with her, isn’t that who you should live with?”
“She’s married,” Kay said on a sigh. “I only mentioned her to see your reaction.”
Rose flushed again and stared at the floor. “I should call my office.”
“Your phone’s dead.”
She found the charger and plugged it into the wall. A string of texts from Kay came through, and missed calls from her office. She opened the group text and apologized, saying she’d been sick all morning and unable to reach the phone. She thanked them for calling Kay and said she’d let them know in the morning if she was well enough to come in. Her editor wrote back with a heart emoji and told her to work from home the rest of the week. Rose thanked her and left the phone to charge.
Kay had moved to the couch and motioned to a sandwich on a plate. Rose hadn’t heard her making it.
“You can go back to work,” she said and sat down. “I’ll be fine, really.”
“I already took the afternoon off. I’m going to watch you eat that whole damn thing, then take you to urgent care.”
“I don’t need a doctor. It was just a twenty-four-hour bug. I feel fine today.”
“It’s that or the emergency room.”
“What about this. I’ll eat and if I don’t feel well in an hour, I’ll go with you.” She took a bite, peanut butter and apple on a limp piece of wheat, and stared at the ragged edge of the bread. “Do you remember the dreams I told you about?”
“The recurring ones? Sure. Are you still having them?”
Rose nodded. “There was a voice asking me to help it. In the beginning it sounded like Taran when he was a kid, but not by the end. I was actually starting to feel afraid of it. I know this sounds impossible, but I think it wanted to trap me there.”
“It was only a dream. Maybe it was your body’s way of saying you had fainted. It’s not like a dream can actually do anything to you. It ends once you wake up.”
“No, you’re right,” Rose said. “I just let it get to me.”
“We’ll get you on a healthier schedule and you’ll feel so much better. Actually, why don’t you come to my place for the weekend? We can both work from there tomorrow and I’ll make sure you go food shopping for the week.”
Rose had a feeling that by agreeing, she was also agreeing to something else, something that had long lingered between them. Through a yawn that chased away lingering exhaustion, she closed her eyes. No one called her name.
She returned to her office on Monday, glad that it was just two of them today. The newbie was working remotely and half the lights were off. As she approached her desk, Ania slightly turned their head.
“Welcome back,” they said with the ghost of a smile. “The editor stopped by for a minute. There are donuts in the break room.”
“Thank you,” Rose said and hesitated. “Can I get you more coffee?”
Ania raised their eyes. “Sure. Thanks.” They passed Rose a black mug that said Your Comfort Zone Will Kill You.
She brewed a fresh pot and returned to the desk. As she was going through three days’ worth of emails, out of habit she glanced up.
“The tree’s missing,” she said with a frown.
“What are you talking about?” Ania said without lifting their eyes from the computer.
“I’ve always been able to see a tree over that rooftop.”
Ania glanced out the window. “I’ve never really noticed. Why don’t you walk over that way at lunch? I think there’s a park.”
On her lunch break, Rose left the building and walked to the nearby park. Why hadn’t she thought of doing this in the past? It was a short walk, just five minutes. Even with the cooling weather that marked the change of season, she was warm enough in a peacoat and boots.
Something nearby was undergoing construction, but the buzzing was better than the office’s static silence. When the park came into view, yellow strips of caution tape formed an X that blocked the entrance. Clutching her purse against her side, Rose joined other onlookers.
“What happened?” she asked.
“The storm finally knocked down that old tree,” said a man about her age who held a brown lunch bag.
“They should have removed it ages ago,” a woman spoke up. “Shameful on the city’s part.”
Rose looked closely at the scene. The tree she had watched from the office window was split in two and lay on its side, exposing decayed insides that had long rotted away. A crew of workers were using chainsaws to remove the limbs. And covering the tree was not leaves like she’d thought, but ivy wrapped ’round and ’round the choked, dead trunk.