I Will Lay My Bones Among the Rocks and Roots

Content Warning (click to expand)

parental abandonment

 

by Dave Walsh

Each step was more arduous than the last. The tendrils sprouted from Jonas’s feet and dug into the ground, tunneling their way through the soil and rocks, trying to root him into place. This was his punishment for his hubris. He’d always considered himself clever, at least enough to outsmart the Children of the Forest. But he’d run. Not just run, but wronged them by stealing what was theirs, and he ran like the coward he never wanted to be. Just like his father.

Jonas hadn’t been running long, but it wore him down in a hurry. Fighting a force of nature with each step was exhausting. He let both his feet touch the ground for a few moments, the burgeoning roots growing with each passing second and trying to anchor him to the ground. This couldn’t happen, though, not here in the forest, surrounded by the others who suffered the same fate. Not after coming here to prove he was better than his deadbeat father by claiming the Heart of the forest for himself. That same Heart was safely gripped tight in his palm. The only problem was he didn’t account for the Children of the Forest, or how they made him feel. The look in their eyes when he snatched the Heart and ran haunted each step. Running down this path, he’d seen at least three dozen of the damned already, frozen in time with pained expressions across their bark-encrusted faces. The population of the petrified plunderers was denser the closer to the clearing and the cave he’d been trying to sneak into. Those were just the ones he could recognize. How many trees in that forest were the same kinds of cowards as him? He hadn’t seen one in a few moments now, but the roots were more aggressive, longer and took more out of him to pull from the ground.

The right foot was the problem one — the one he’d rested on more — and when he pulled, there was a more intricate network of roots that had to be unearthed, soil crumbling from beneath them. With one last pull, the roots broke free, sending him onto his ass, roots sprouting from his flesh wherever it met the ground. Jonas cried out, his fingers penetrating into the ground outside of his control while he jerked his other foot clear. A laugh echoed through the forest, carried by the wind that wound through the treetops and bristled against the leaves.

“Keep running, damn you,” he growled at himself.

“It’s not so bad,” a gruff voice interrupted him.

Jonas turned and saw a gnarled tree shaped like a throne nestled into a small hill. When he squinted, he made out the figure. Intricate roots crisscrossed over him and dug into the ground, his face hardly recognizable, the bark chipping at the facial curves to show those last vestiges of human features.

“The more you fight, the faster they grow,” he said.

“Funny, old man. You’re no more real than the well overflowing with water or the table of gold coins I ran past.” Jonas stumbled up to his feet, bracing his hand against a tree and his fingers attempting to fuse themselves into the bark, making him recoil.

“Think what you will. The curse has already taken root,” the tree said. “It’s too late to run.”

“If you are real, why would I listen to you?” he asked. “Live my life stuck in the ground like you?”

“In the time it took you to say that, your right foot has already sprouted more roots. I can see it with my own eyes. The harder you fight, the faster they grow.”

“Damnit.” He wasn’t wrong. Jonas tugged at his foot, trying to keep it from fusing to the ground, the Heart still clutched in his hand. “So what do I do, then? Just stand still?”

“You can take a break,” the tree said. “You’re exhausted. Fighting the inevitable is difficult.”

“I’m gonna make it,” Jonas said. “There’s a quarry over that hill. If I can make it, these roots can’t break through rock.”

“You think you’ll make it?” The tree chuckled what sounded more like a deep rumble than anything human. “The roots can grow around rock with time.”

“I need to rest. I’ll do it there. Then I’ll come up with something. Anything.” Jonas lifted his right foot up and stood on his left, needing to shift every few seconds to avoid getting stuck.

“It doesn’t have to be a curse,” the tree said. “I was much like you once. I came here, chest puffed up, sure I’d outsmart the Children on my quest for immortality. You know, I was going to claim the Heart of the forest, but didn’t make it deep enough into the cave before they caught me. There’s no shame in failure.”

“You don’t know anything about me.” Jonas trudged forward, the Heart smooth and pulsating in his hand, the haunting echoes of the laughter from the tree giving him pause. “What are you laughing at, you wretch?”

“Show me your face again,” the tree asked. “Let me look into those eyes.”

“What’s it matter to you?” Jonas glared back at the sullen tree, shaking his head. He thought he was gripping the Heart tighter, but his hand had sprouted; fingers stretching and crossing over each other. The faster they sprouted, the more panic spread through him. “Damn.”

“Well, look at you.” The tree’s laughter grew deeper. “Just like I thought.”

Jonas fought harder, ignoring the tree’s incessant banter and overly familiar tone. The face bothered him, setting off a reaction inside of him that stirred more emotions than the raw fear of this flight. Like he’d seen that face in his dreams. Been haunted by it for longer than he dared remember. It was a trap. The longer he sat conversing with the wretched old man, the closer the Children would get to him. His deception to gain access to the Heart was seduction, not that he was proud of it. It was all he’d been good for back home, and his key for survival until he’d ran out of wealthy fools to seduce and rob.

“I see myself in you, boy,” the tree said. “Just as much a fool. Just as much a coward—”

“I’m not a coward!” Jonas rumbled, momentarily forgetting the tendrils sprawling from his body and planting themselves into the ground, trying to take root and stop him in his tracks. His anger only made them pull harder, forcing him to fight back.

“The more you fight, the worse—”

“Would a coward risk everything?” Jonas snarled, feeling his cells tearing away at him while photosynthesis pulsed through his veins. “Would a coward come here to do what his father failed to do? To steal this blasted Heart, to use the power of the forest to find him… to look him in his miserable eye and spit in his face? I don’t want immortality. I want to look him in the eye and refuse to apologize for who I am, even if it made him run away.”

“Then spit in my face here,” the tree mused, “and find your peace among the forest like I did.”

“This is another trick. You’re not him.” The image in his mind was of their last meeting, where his father saw Jonas holding hands with the potion seller’s son and tore the boy away, laying into Jonas with barbed words and steely fists. The bruises on his face healed, but the ones deeper never mended. “That I’m not a coward like he was.”

“A coward who came here in search of the same Heart. To make himself a better man. Maybe even to atone.”

Jonas had heard enough. His veins were hardening and moving his limbs was a struggle unlike he’d ever felt before, like his body was turning to stone. He knew it wasn’t the case, that it was himself becoming a part of the forest as a punishment for trying to steal its Heart, but that was never his intent, nor his concern. Each step was now at a glacial pace, like he was a veritable giant stomping over a miniature city, only he was the same size, becoming something more. Becoming a part of that very forest he tried to rob.

“It was the nymph that got you, wasn’t it?” There was a twinge of joy in his chloroplast-ridden voice. “Just like she got me. Your heart soars when she looks into your eyes, doesn’t it, boy? She promised me everything, but it was a trap.”

“N-n-no.” Vocalizing was a struggle while his body was fighting so hard to remain whole, to remain human. More parts of his body were sprouting and taking root and dragging him down. “I seduced them… to gain access to the Heart.”

He wished to remain strong, but his plan fell apart when he connected with them. Something so pure and special that it tore away at him. The guilt was overbearing, and his plan dissipated into thin air, forcing him to snatch and run. They were too beautiful for words. Resplendent, even. Oozing an irresistible playfulness. The stories didn’t dissuade him and, if it was just her, maybe he could have resisted. None of the stories mentioned they were twins, each as beautiful as the other, with voices syrupy and singsong that lured him into a false sense of security. They gave him the one thing he’d yearned for and made him feel wanted. He wanted to believe he followed them into that cave to find the Heart, but he’d only stumbled upon it by accident, snapping to, snatching it and making a run for it.

“You made it further from the cave than anyone else,” the tree said. “Outside of myself, that is. At least, I suppose. There could be more up ahead, but you saw how it thinned out along this path. Their power doesn’t extend past the tree line, but you’ll never make it.”

“Shut up!” Jonas tugged himself free and fell over again, his hands and feet sprouting more roots that aggressively snaked their way through the soil. Anger and fear had gotten him this far. Letting go of them would mean giving up. A wisp of a laugh snaked its way through the trees, taunting him, or calling out to him, he wasn’t sure. “I’m going to make it to that quarry yet. Past their reach. I’ll find some way to make use of this blasted Heart, then I’ll… I’ll find him.”

“Wait. So you actually have it, then? The Heart?” There was a yearning and intensity in his voice that cracked through his attempted wise man’s veneer. “Show it to me, boy. Spit in my face, if you must. The only thing up ahead is solitude for eternity, or until your roots rot or a man chops you down. But the Heart… you don’t understand its power, boy. Give it to me and this will all be over.”

“N-nice try.” Jonas was on his knees, but his feet were more cumbersome to free and his strength was failing him. “Gods damnit! Move, foot!”

“You’re even worse than I am.” His voice softened. “More of a fool than I ever was.”

“Don’t talk to me like we’re familiar.” Tears clouded his eyes, but they weren’t clear, instead things were turning green. Whatever had taken hold of him was working through his veins, transforming him, no matter how much hate he harbored. “You’re another trick. An illusion, and I’ve fallen for it.”

“Boy, please. Stay with me. You must trust me. If you give me the Heart, I can fix all of this. Damn the forest and the Children. Just give it to me, and I can fix it.” There was an unearned tenderness in his voice. A voice that had seemed alien, but the more he felt the roots take hold, the more familiar it sounded. So familiar that it stung. “Jonas, please.”

“Don’t you dare say my name,” he cried. “You even sound like him.”

“Stay with me. Please. Boy, if you have the Heart…”

“Stop trying to drag me down with you,” Jonas snarled. If it was him, what would giving him the Heart do? What did he know about the Heart that Jonas couldn’t seem to figure out? The Children were furious with him. Toying with his emotions just like he’d toyed with them.

Jonas urged himself forward, the tendrils from his fingers longer, long enough that they were reaching out towards the ground even while he stomped forward. Each step took more of his energy and he knew the tree was right; he’d never make it to the quarry at this rate. This was the end of the road. Those chloroplast tears streamed down his cheeks. Jonas clawed at them with the palm of his hand and almost screamed when he finally looked at them and saw what he was becoming. His palms were cracking, hardening, and there was no hope of making that quarry.

The tree gave him a moment to accept his fate, giving the gift of silence. There was a comfortable familiarity in that tree, something he yearned for since his father left him on his fool quest to claim the Heart of the forest. He’d hurt others to plot this revenge, and all he’d done in the process was failed. Dragged them down along with him.

“I’m sorry, my boy,” the tree said, understanding the realization Jonas was having. “You just need to listen to me. Look at me, Jonas. Focus.”

“Don’t talk to me,” he wept. “Shut up.”

“Son—”

“Don’t you dare call me that!” With whatever energy he had left, he turned and faced the tree, trying to see through the barked outline to find the face burned into his memory from that day when he left. That day, his father left him. “I came here because… because I didn’t want to become you, and now…”

“There’s still time,” the tree said. “Turn and face me. Show it to me, please.”

Although his body was hardening and fusing itself to the ground, he refused to stop, still thrashing and trying to pull himself up. This man — this tree — couldn’t be his father. It was another trick, and perhaps sealed the fate he deserved for using them like he did. For using that part of him he still couldn’t find it in himself to accept and embrace it. Instead, he let his seething hatred take over.

“I’ve ruined everything,” Jonas grunted.

“Jonas. Stop grumbling. If you have the Heart, we can fix this.” The treefather was prodding him, trying to elicit a response. “When I dared defy the forest children, I had dreams of giving my dearest son a better life. To fix things. To fix… him.”

“Fix… me?” Jonas clenched his fist around the Heart even harder. Images in his head of his father raining down blows on him. Of him cursing him as an aberration. That he was somehow unclean. “Even if you are him, I refuse to be stuck here with you.”

He could spend the rest of eternity cursing at his father and how little he understood Jonas. So he continued to fight, to pull his feet up and detangle them from the ground every so often. The sun was setting and while he would not protest this view, the sky’s colors melted into each other while the sun disappeared over the mountain, but he didn’t come this far to give up. Time was running out, and his body was transforming faster with each moment he wasted with whatever this tree was. If it was his father, he was slipping into the same fate of the man he existed to spite.

“The sun will set soon. There’s still time, Jonas. You and I can—”

“I want nothing to do with you!” His voice echoed through the treetops, but didn’t slow him down, continuing to clomp towards the hills. Towards safety.

“Don’t be too hard on yourself,” he said. “Come now.”

“I’m not like you,” Jonas said. “Father or not, I will not be like you.”

“I’m afraid it is too late. Together we can atone. Damn those forest nymphs, we can defy them together. If I had the Heart, I could reverse this. Then we could get revenge on them.”

“I’ve hurt them enough already. This isn’t a grudge I hold against them, against—”

“Whatever your intent, your actions spoke for themselves. You’re no better than I was.”

Those words stung deep. His body was sore and cumbersome. Each movement was more pained than the last. Looking down, his body was losing its form, his clothing shredded and torn, roots and vines hanging from him, reaching out towards their own kind. Jonas never thought about the Children, nor the forest. When he did this, his intent was only about this man—this tree even—and bringing him back just to show him he could keep a promise, and wouldn’t run away. His muscles and veins burned while his body turned back towards the cave. Whatever he thought he was, he needed to be better. Back there was the cave. It was where he found the Heart.

“I didn’t know what I was doing. My mind was clouded with revenge.” The links were too heavy, roots plunging deeper into the soil and forcing him to his knees again while the ground no longer felt separate from himself, but like a rich, complex ecosystem swallowing him whole. “I never meant to hurt them.”

“Jonas, please. Listen to reason. What happened to the Heart?”

“I’m nothing like you!” Jonas knew it was too late. His body had given up and couldn’t move anymore. Either he faced this man — whoever he was — and lived near him for the rest of his strange, forested life, or continued to defy his father and refuse him the victory of having any control over him.

Whispers danced through the trees, whooshing around him. They swirled along with the wind, perhaps some sort of symptom of his metamorphosis. These trees had all been living at one point, that had to be the case. The entirety of his right knee had hardened, bark forming and digging itself down underneath him, snaking through the interwoven ecosystem. The whispers intensified, but he wanted no more from that blasted tree, and couldn’t bear the thought of the rest of his life there, with potentially the man he’d hated more than anything. So much of his life was to spite this man that he’d thrown his own life away to do it.

There wasn’t much power left in him, but he remembered his right fist, clenched around the Heart of the forest. With whatever he had left, he unfurled his fingers, tendril-by-tendril, screaming in pain and for whatever muscles remained under his control to listen and let it go. It sat there, unassuming, in his outstretched palm, while his arm hardened with each passing moment. Only a small, glowing acorn stared unassumingly back at him. The tears flowed, and the voice of the treefather continued, although drowned out by his own wails.

“I’m sorry,” he blubbered. “It was never mine to take. Please, take it back.”

“Wait, Jonas,” the treefather grunted. “What are you doing?”

“Take it back?” A voice whistled through the trees. “Playing with hearts like that. Such a fickle boy, making big promises only to betray us.”

“We only wanted to play,” another voice added. “So cute. Then so craven. Like the rest.”

“Disappointing,” the first voice said.

“I’m sorry,” he gasped, trying to catch his breath. “I was wrong.”

“They all beg just the same,” the first voice said. “This one is no different.”

“That’s sad,” the second one added. “Like his father.”

“Just like him.”

The words stung deep, burning themselves into him. He’d spent so long trying to spite him he didn’t realize how much like his father he really was. It didn’t matter if that treeman was his father or not. He was another asshole just the same, another lonely, lost soul. Jonas fought this for so long, but he couldn’t run away from it any longer.

“I’m a fool,” he muttered. “And a coward. Just like him.”

“So he admits it?” The first giggled. “See?”

“Let him give back. Become a part of this great forest his people have tormented.”

“I’m sorry,” Jonas said. “I was selfish. A fool. My mind was clouded with revenge. I didn’t think about… anyone else.”

“A fool? Indeed you are,” the first said.

“P-please. Show yourself. So I can look you in the eye… and apologize.” Even the tears had dried up, although he wanted nothing more than to cry his eyes out. His body had betrayed him, or he it. “I can’t get up or move my head. Leave me here, I don’t care. I’m a fool. Please… just let me apologize.”

“Words cannot fix misdeeds,” the second voice said.

“Then turn me into a tree, leave me here,” he murmured. “But let me face you. Let me give this back. It’s not mine.”

“Curious.” A figure leaped down from the forest canopy, landing in front of him. Jonas wanted nothing more than to turn to see it, but his neck had frozen in place. An ethereal light emanated all around him, a pair of petite legs in front of him, then leaned down to show one of the angelic figures he had encountered at the cave. She glistened in the moonlight, breathtakingly brilliant, unlike any living creature he’d set eyes on before. She was much more than a temptress, like the treefather claimed. The shimmer took him off guard, made her seem like she wasn’t of this world. “I believe he’s being honest.”

“Tell us then, Jonas Clearwater. What were you trying to do in these last fleeting moments of your wretched humanity?” The second figure, more masculine, although still with delicate features, stood next to the first, ravishing in his own right. Both shimmered, although they exuded a guarded demeanor. Jonas deserved that after his betrayal.

“To atone,” he said. “Anger clouded me. Revenge. I… tried to claim the Heart to make my wish. To find him to show how better I was. But I’m no better.”

“To join with the living forest is atonement enough,” the male forest dweller said.

“Perhaps we could find another way?” the female one asked her companion.

“Why this one?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “He at least admits his faults.”

“They all do,” the male said. “The end brings a clarity to them. Becoming one with the living forest should be an honor.”

“Of course, but look, he’s trying to return the Heart,” she said. “To atone to us on his own. The rest beg for their lives. You can tell it’s pure.”

“You just find him cute,” the male said.

“So? You do as well.”

“Fine,” he said. “Perhaps there’s another way.”

“Oh come now,” she said. “You won’t hurt us, will you, Jonas Clearwater?”

“What of the Heart?” The male looked down at it and shook his head.

“Jonas.” She locked eyes with him. A surge of energy flowed through him, sensation flowing through him unlike he’d ever experienced before. “If you wish to atone, you know what you must do.”

His eyes blinked, tears able to flow down, not of fear, joy, or relief, but of something different. Of understanding. In her eyes, he could sense a story unfolding, playing out on some cosmic stage, although he couldn’t see far enough to understand. A warm tendril reached out to him, wrapping around the nape of his neck and releasing the tension. The male stood alongside her, another story unfolding in his eyes. Jonas’s body was loosening, then stiffened. A violent convulsion traversed through him and the roots snapped free from him. Jonas cried out, laying on the ground while both forest dwellers’ own tendrils snaked their way around his writhing body, energy flowing between the three of them. Their voices and murmurs rode the wind to his ears; the moon hung high above them, creating a triad of light, when the silence overcame him. Two dancing beams of light returned to the trees, leaving behind in his hand a lone acorn that sparkled beneath the night sky.

“Well done, son. Now quick. Don’t be a fool,” the treefather grumbled. “Hand me the Heart before they get back. Son. Please. I can fix this. You. Me. Everything.”

“I’m not broken, father,” Jonas replied.

Jonas glared at the pathetic excuse for a tree, picking himself up and turning away from him. The man who’d consumed his life, and who he thought he had to prove himself to could occupy his mind no more. Behind him were the hills, where he thought salvation lay. Ahead was the cave, the same one he’d taken the Heart from. It pulsed in his hand, a soft, electric charge that reverberated through him. The tree was pleading and Jonas realized he had no more tears or hatred for that man. Only pity. He made a fist around the Heart, and headed back to the cave, where he’d lost himself, and needed to atone. This was not his Heart to steal. Instead, he’d return it, not as the scared, ashamed Jonas who entered the cave, but the one who felt the weight of the Heart, and understood.

About the author and the piece (click to expand)

Dave Walsh tells us this story was rejected 29 times before making its way to us. He resides in the high desert in New Mexico, a former combat sports and entertainment writer who focuses on the weirder side of speculative fiction instead now. Author of the Trystero and Andlios series, his work has been featured in Typebar Magazine, Every Day Fiction, and elsewhere. Find him at dvewlsh.com, on BlueSky as @dvewlsh.com, and everywhere else as @dvewlsh.

 

©2026 by Dave Walsh. All rights reserved. May not be used for A.I. training.