What is it about trees? They’re beautiful, they’re good for the world, and — if the books are to be believed — they’re damn creepy. Maybe it’s their size. Or maybe the fact that they outlive us all. Maybe it’s the way that they loom, or the way that they will slowly but inevitably reclaim anything left unattended at the forest’s edge. When they grow old and tall they become like pillars, reaching up to the sun, everything on the ground beneath them lost to the dense moss. When they grow thin and dense, they throw deep shadows amid their interwoven branches. The wind blows and the whole forest creaks and moans. Sometimes, depending on where you are, the forest even seems to breathe. And unlike being on a mountain top, or hiking across some vast open landscape, in the forest your line of sight is always broken. In any direction you look you can only see as far as the next tree trunk. Horizon, what horizon? When’s the last time you saw the sky? And who knows what’s lurking between the trees. Okay, so maybe I get it. Certainly anyone who has ever been in a forest knows that it can be one of the most disorienting, creepy landscapes to engage with. And even great trees standing alone in the field have a queer sort of magic and myth about them. They’re like old sentinels standing guard over the ghosts of the forests that used to be. Whatever it is about the trees, one thing is guaranteed: ominous forests in dark fiction always make for good reading. So wander and get lost in these dark arboreal additions to your winter TBR.
