Explain It Like I'm Tree

Cursed

Arthur's lungs slowly emptied. The anger burnt itself out, and he felt every inch of the tree's hollowness in his own chest. "Yes. That. Is what. I hoped. To hear."

"He can't." Vivi spoke up. "Even if it's his house now, he might end up in juvenile hall if they catch him."

Panicking, Christopher blurted, "I don't care! If they lock me up, that'll get me away from all this too, right?"

"Wait, you don't have to." Vivi walked over and squatted next to Christopher. "We know a guy... someone who can burn it all down and they'll never be able to trace him. You hired the Mystery Skulls for this job, right? Well. The Mystery Skulls will finish it, as per your instructions. Consider us the match you're using." She turned to Arthur. "As good as if Christopher did it himself, right?"

"Yes. Good. Enough."

A sound like a line of swords sliding over stone filled Arthur's ears. He turned to see the great serpent around the house shifting. It raised its head, its eyes wide open and fixed on them.

He lifted his hand, dragging Christopher to his feet. "Child. I wish. I could have. Spoken. To you. Without this. I wish. It were. Different. But you must. Leave. All of. You. The curse knows. What you intend. It will be. Hard enough. To fight the. Small one. Upon you. Impossible to. Resist the drag. Of the great one." He set Christopher on Mystery's back, then seized Vivi and set her there also. "Go. Never. Look. Back. No sentiments. For. Old disaster."

Christopher leaned forward, mutely holding out a worn old notebook. His face spasmed as the serpent at his ear began to shrill, but he kept his good arm outstretched.

A weak, sputtering hope kindled in the old tree as Arthur took the notebook from the boy's hand. It had the words Edith Finch in softly looped letters on the front. He curled his hand around the book of the most recently dead. "Go. Young pup. Return for your. Friend. He will be. Too weak. For speed."

Mystery dipped his head once, then bounded up and over the fence, bearing his passengers away.

The great serpent stared down at Arthur. It did not speak and he could not sense its thoughts or feelings, but its attention was fixed on him. Its coils tightened around the great trunk holding up the house, and it felt as though Arthur's bones ground against each other.

The old tree sighed, tiredly. "I have. Ill-used. One who. Might have been. A friend. Grant me. A few more. Minutes. Lend me. Your strength. Then I will. Leave you."

What now?

"Stone. Will not. Burn." Arthur turned toward the graveyard, propelling himself down the trail. By the time he reached the cemetery, he and the tree acted as one. The weight of their fists came down on the pet monuments first, cracking the doghouse in half and crumbling the smaller headstones like chalk. With their feet, they swept the tiny picket-sign markers for smaller pets aside, scattering them in all directions.

When he turned to the second section, where the first layer of the family lay, the serpent was already there. Its head filled the space, blocking his way. Arthurs bones began to scream, and his breath came in shorter gasps.

The tree laughed, a hoarse, earthy sound. "You. Can do. Nothing more. To me. And this one. Was never. Yours." Their body swung forward, passing through the serpent's head. He wrapped his long, thick fingers around the first headstone he saw, one with a spaceship creatively suspended from the top, and dragged it out of its socket like a rotten tooth. Hauling it up over his head, he cracked it across the neighboring headstone, shattering both at once. Again, he wrenched one free and brought it down on its neighbor, and again until nothing but unreadable fragments lay scattered about the second circle.