Horror corner

MONSTRUO

"They say the tree bleeds when you peel off the bark.”

Liz’s eyes flickered in the orange light. Her lips curled into a small smile, as if she enjoyed that particular detail.

“That’s ridiculous. There’s no way a tree could bleed,” Tucker said, yanking his burning marshmallow from the fire.

“There are photos, though. I’ve seen them all over Instagram. Bright red blood, oozing from the bark.”

“It’s supposed to be the blood of Monstruo’s victims,” I added. “The legend goes, the tree absorbed all the blood spilled at its roots. Now instead of sap, human blood pumps through its veins.”

Tucker let out a peal of laughter. “Absolutely not! That’s ridiculous. Come on, you guys were in my Biology class. You know there’s no way human blood is pumping through the xylem and phloem –”

“It’s true,” Liz said, shooting him a glare.

“You know what? I bet the whole thing is a myth. I bet Monstruo himself didn’t even exist.”

I glanced at the tree. It stood in the shadows, several yards behind us. Blackened bark. Leafless branches. A sore thumb in the forest.

The Hanging Tree. Or el árbol del ahorcado, as some of the locals called it.

“It’s nothing more than a tourist trap,” Tucker continued.

“A tourist trap only the locals know about? Doesn’t make much sense to me,” I said.

Tucker sighed. “You know what I mean.” His marshmallow fell into the fire with an unceremonious plop. “It’s an urban legend to tell around campfires like this one. A spooky haunted tree. The legend of a perverted, cannibalistic killer. It sounds like the plot to a Stephen King novel. I guarantee you — Monstruo wasn’t real.”

“He was real. Every single person in this town who’s old enough to have seen it, says it happened.” I glanced over at him. “And this tree is where he hung his victims’ bodies.”

Tucker laughed. The sound echoed off the trees, making it sound like a chorus was laughing with him. “Yeah, and those same locals just call him ‘Monstruo.’ The Spanish word for ‘monster.’ If he’s real, why don’t they call him by name?”

“Because they don’t want to give him the dignity.”

It was Liz speaking, now. The smile had faded from her face. She scooted closer to the fire; the black shadows faded from her face. “He did such terrible things. Referring to him by name would only glorify that.”

“That’s a clever lie. But it doesn’t fool me.”

I shifted closer to Tucker, who was plucking another marshmallow from the bag. “Come on, Tucker. Ever notice how this part of town is basically abandoned? And no one ever builds on the empty lot a few feet over, even though it’s dirt cheap?” I laughed. “The things Monstruo did are so terrible, even money won’t get anyone near it.”

“So terrible. So, so terrible. That’s what I keep hearing. Yet, funny how I’ve never heard any details or facts.”

“You want facts? I’ll give you facts. He killed 17 men, women, and children. And you do a hell of a lot of disrespect to those people, when you claim he didn’t exist.”

Liz nodded, her dark eyes glancing at Tucker.

“Look, I’m not trying to disrespect anybody. I just –”

“I’m not done.” My voice cut through the cold air like a knife. Tucker jumped. “He didn’t just abduct and kill those people. It was a lot worse than that.”