🕯️ The Nightly Storyteller Presents🪙 The Gold Coin Chronicle: The Hollow Grove

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🎙️ Monologue — “Roots of Fear”

> “We all have a place we avoid.  
> A stretch of road that seems to breathe when we pass,  
> a grove of trees that lean a little too close,  
> as if listening.  
> Fear doesn’t need the dark—it only needs familiarity.  
> Because the longer you fear something,  
> the more real it becomes.  
> It stops being a rumor and starts becoming hungry.  
> And some roots… never stop growing.”  

---

🌲 The Hollow Grove

Every small town has a rumor that clings like moss. For June Everhart, it was the row of twisted trees that lined the service road leading out of town—a narrow strip of asphalt between the hills and the power station. Not quite a forest, not quite a field. Just The Hollow Grove.  

When she was a child, the neighborhood boys dared each other to walk through it. June never did. She swore she saw eyes between the trunks once—pale, root-colored things that swayed when the wind didn’t. Her mother told her it was just shadows, but the memory never faded.  

Now, years later, June still drove the long way around whenever she could. But tonight, she had no choice. Her best friend Mira lived just past the Grove, and she’d promised to help her pick up a rescued cat.  

That morning, she found a gold coin wedged in the crack by her front step. It was old and tarnished, stamped with a face she didn’t recognize—half human, half bark. She pocketed it without thinking, figuring she’d show Mira later.  

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🌒 The Road

The evening sky was turning red when June left. The cat carrier rattled on the passenger seat, and the animal inside hissed at nothing. The moment she neared The Hollow Grove, her headlights dimmed.  

The trees loomed close—too close. Their branches arched overhead like ribs, forming a tunnel that swallowed the last light of day.  

Something crossed the road. Thin. Quick. Branchlike.  

Her stomach dropped. “Just deer,” she muttered, though she knew it wasn’t.  

Then came the sound—dry, whispering voices rustling through leaves. The cat yowled, thrashing in the carrier.  

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw them again: figures between the trunks, shaped like men but bent, their skin rough and pale like birch bark. The Birchkin.  

They didn’t walk; they unfurled, joints bending backward, torsos twisting like rope. Their mouths opened too wide, exhaling soil that drifted like dust.  

Local kids used to say the Birchkin dragged people underground and filled their lungs with dirt. June had never believed it—until the whispering stopped.  

Because whispers meant distance.  
And silence meant they were near.  

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🌑 The Encounter

Something slammed against her window—hard enough to spiderweb the glass. The coin on the dash spun violently, humming like a struck bell before freezing upright. Its bark-face seemed to leer at her, lips curling into a smile that hadn’t been there before.  

The car died. The headlights went black.  

In the rearview mirror, a handprint pressed against the fogged glass—long-fingered, bark-gray, dripping with sap that oozed down in slow rivulets. The fingers twitched, tapping in a rhythm that almost sounded like words.  

Then came the sound: not whispers now, but a low groan, like roots tearing through soil. The Birchkin stepped into her headlights’ ghost-glow—though the engine was dead, the beams flickered faintly, as if the trees themselves were feeding them.  

They didn’t walk. They unfolded. Limbs bent backward, torsos twisting like rope, faces splitting open to reveal hollow mouths packed with soil. When they exhaled, the air filled with the stench of rot and wet bark.  

The cat shrieked, throwing itself against the carrier until blood flecked its nose. June clutched the coin so tightly its edges cut her palm. The metal burned, pulsing like a heartbeat.  

The Birchkin pressed closer, their bark-skin creaking, their hollow mouths opening wider. One leaned against her window, its face inches from hers. Its eyes were knots in wood, but they blinked. And when it opened its mouth, she heard her own voice echo back:  

> “Just deer.”  

The car roared to life. The coin seared her hand. She slammed the gas and tore down the road, never looking back.  

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🌘 The Aftermath and Contagion

By the time she reached Mira’s house, her hands were shaking so badly she dropped the coin onto the porch. It rolled into the dark.  

As she stared at the empty spot, she noticed the palm she’d been clutching the coin with was faintly stained with a dark, sticky residue—like sap mixed with dried soil. The veins beneath her skin seemed darker, branching faintly like roots.  

She didn’t go after it. She just rubbed the stain frantically on her jeans. The cat refused to leave the carrier, hissing at her hand.  

The next morning, Mira found fresh cracks in the porch wood, as if roots had pushed up from beneath.  

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🚨 Police Log Supplement (Completed Epilogue)

> POLICE LOG ENTRY: 11/08/2025 (00:45 HRS)  
> Witness: Trucker, M. (Alias: “Slider”)  
> Location: Service Road 9, Near Hollow Grove  
>   
> Summary: Witness reported seeing a vehicle (later identified as J. Everhart’s) pulled over, hazard lights flashing. Witness described “tall, bent figures” surrounding the vehicle, though no other motorists reported activity in the area. Witness stated the trees appeared “closer than the road allowed,” and that the sound was “wrong, like static being pulled into the trunks.”  
>   
> Officer Notes (R. Halloway):  
> - Vehicle located abandoned 0.3 miles from Mira K’s residence. Engine warm, keys in ignition. No driver present.  
> - Strong odor of pine, soil, and decay noted despite dry conditions.  
> - Deep gouges discovered in asphalt, approximately 2.5 inches deep, running parallel to the road. Pattern inconsistent with known tools or animal claws.  
> - Audio recorder captured faint whispering during site inspection. Playback analysis reveals layered voices repeating the phrase: “Just deer.”  
> - Porch of Mira K’s residence shows fresh root damage beneath steps. Substance resembling sap mixed with soil found on porch and on vehicle steering wheel.  
>   
> Status: Case remains open. Evidence bagged: one cat carrier (damaged, blood traces inside), one gold coin (missing—see addendum).  
>   
> Addendum: Coin reportedly recovered at scene by Officer R. Halloway. Item logged into evidence at 02:15 HRS. By 03:00 HRS, coin was no longer present in evidence locker. Locker door undisturbed. Investigation pending.  

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🎙️ Closing Words — “The Roots Still Whisper”

> “Fear feeds on belief, and belief waters the roots of old things.  
> If you’ve ever driven past a grove and felt it watching you—  
> you were right.  
> They lean because they know your name.  
> And they are patient.”  

---

🪙 End of Chronicle

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And if you dare… drop a comment and tell me your favorite local legend or the road you never drive at night.  

We’re just getting started—and things are about to get dark.  

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