Tyler O’Connor’s seventh birthday was tomorrow, but everyone forgot.  

His big brother, Peyton, disappeared about four months ago. Mom and Dad hadn’t thought about much else since. Mom especially seemed like the zombies in the one old movie Peyton used to torture Tyler with when they’d be home alone. Night of the… something. 

It was 1985, movies were supposed to be in color. 

He’d made Tyler watch it again the night before he disappeared. Dad got real mad at him the next day. Peyton shouldn’t have called Dad the a-word. That got you taken out to the bad spot in the woods. 

They were gone a long time. Dad came back all sweaty and said Peyton ran off with his friends. Then the Oakdale, Mississippi Police came.

Not surprising Peyton was in trouble with them, too. Ever since he started hanging out with those weird kids he’d been acting…different. Meaner. Angrier. Hungrier. He ate a whole box of Cap’n Crunch in one sitting. Tyler didn’t get a single bite. He even ate some of Mom’s plant dirt. Gross. 

Tyler still missed him. He had hoped he’d come back soon.

Tap Tap Tap

Peyton floated outside Tyler’s bedroom window.

Tap Tap Tap

Tyler pulled the covers up over his head. He tried not to move, but his hands kept shaking.

Should he peek out? Should he call for Mom and Dad? What if it’s just a dream? Dad would be so mad. 

Tap Tap Tap

He held his breath and pulled the covers down fast. He opened one eye toward the window. 

Gone.

See? Just a dream.

Peyton’s cold, dirty hand covered Tyler’s mouth before he could make a sound. It wasn’t like Peyton had never done that before, but somehow it muffled any sound Tyler made this time. How was he doing it? 

The dark of the room made it hard to see Peyton’s face clearly. It looked like he hadn’t bathed in months. His hair was long now, long enough for Dad to grab. And something was wrong with his eyes. No color. No white. Just endless black. 

“Shhhhh,” Peyton said, holding a finger to his mouth. “If you promise to stay quiet I’ll let you up,” he whispered. Tyler knew this game, too. If he didn’t agree he’d wind up with a sore arm for a week. He nodded his promise. 

Peyton lifted his hand slowly, just in case Tyler was lying. He wasn’t. A million questions were about to come flying out, so Peyton motioned for Tyler to stay quiet and to follow him. Tyler’s mouth hung open. Peyton walked beneath the high window — then floated up to it.

“C’mon,” he whispered, holding out his cold, dirty hand. If this was a dream it was super weird. Tyler grabbed his shoes and reached up. He felt himself float effortlessly through the window. They were outside now. “How did you…?” Tyler said before Peyton covered his mouth again. “Not yet,” Peyton said sternly. 

If this wasn’t a dream, how could Peyton fly? And the only black eyes he ever got were the ones from that bully at school or when he said something Dad didn’t like. That was all real. This just… felt like it. 

They walked forever into the woods. The deeper they went, the stiller the air became. Even the crickets were silent. Nothing moved.

“Peyton, my legs hurt. Just tell me where we’re going already,” Tyler whined. 

A clearing appeared in the bright light of the full moon. Tyler knew this place. His stomach always tightened here — this was the bad part of the woods. 

But that was impossible — unless the trees had gotten up and moved. 

“Sorry if I scared you. You needed to see for yourself,” Peyton said, pointing to a patch of soft dirt. Softer than all the ground around it. Kind of sunken in, too. “That’s where I’ve been the last few months.”

Tyler didn’t understand. Why sleep out here instead of the house? Peyton’s black eyes filled with tears. “That’s where Dad left me,” he said. “My new friends got me out.” 

Twigs snapped all around them, then whispers rose like wind through the trees. Figures stepped into the moonlight — kids, filthy, their eyes swallowed in black. “They’re the spirits in the trees,” Peyton said. “They see everything. They set wrong things right. Now… I do, too.” 

Tyler knew it was true. Dad had threatened them both so many times with a lot more than just a belt. He knew he was going to be in that ground too, one day.

Peyton watched his brother’s eyes. He knew that fear. “Come with us,” Peyton said, holding out his hand again. One by one, the others raised their hands too. Waiting. “You don’t have to be afraid anymore.”

Tyler felt his body clench tight. “Does… does it hurt?” he asked, voice breaking. “Not for you,” one of the kids said. They each laid a hand on Tyler, chanting something he didn’t understand. Wind cracked the pines as it screamed through the clearing. Tyler felt himself lift off the ground. The chanting grew louder. Something deep inside him pulled upward and shot out of his eyes, nose, and mouth like a cloud of gnats. Tyler watched it float away and felt… nothing.

His lifeless body fell to the forest floor. Peyton lifted Tyler into his arms. He cradled his brother’s body. “Do what needs to be done.”

The others faded into the trees moving back toward the house. It wouldn’t be long now. 

The soft earth opened to receive Tyler. A cold, final embrace. The ground closed over him. Gunshots cracked. His father yelled. His mother screamed. Peyton smiled. 

Silence. 

Dirt shifted at Peyton’s feet. A cold hand slowly emerged. “Welcome home, little brother,” Peyton said, taking it.

No one ever found the boys. And to this day, there is no clearing in those woods.