This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.

The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/HeatConfident4673 on 2024-10-03 11:48:39+00:00.

We shouldn’t have messed with the Ouija board. I know that now, but we were just stupid kids looking for a thrill. It was a late summer night, the air sticky with humidity, and we were bored. At 17, the most exciting thing in our small town was the urban legend about “The Tree Witch.”

The story went that a witch had been buried inside a large, hollow tree deep in the forest after she was caught sacrificing children for dark rituals centuries ago. As the legend goes, anyone who disturbs her rest would suffer a curse — but that was just a campfire tale… or so we thought.

There were four of us: Me, Tyler, Emma, and Ben. Emma was the one who suggested we try the Ouija board near the cursed tree. The rest of us laughed it off, thinking nothing would happen.

We found the tree, its bark twisted like veins, with the base of it looking as though it was swallowing something. An eerie chill swept over us as we set up the board. The moment we started, the planchette moved on its own. The word witch spelled itself out in jerky motions.

Before we could ask another question, the board froze, and we heard a rustling in the leaves around us. We laughed nervously and packed up, brushing it off. We left that forest feeling unsettled, but not scared. At least, not yet.

The first death happened two nights later.

Tyler was found dead in his room, his body twisted unnaturally, like something had yanked and broken his limbs. His room was covered in wet mud and leaves—there was no sign of a break-in. The police ruled it as some kind of freak accident. But I knew better. It was the Tree Witch. She had left her imprint: the mud and leaves.

None of us could sleep after that, but we didn’t dare talk about what we had done. Maybe if we stayed quiet, it would stop.

But it didn’t.

Emma went next. I got the call early in the morning. She had been found floating in her bathtub, drowned, even though the water was barely an inch deep. Her bathroom was filled with leaves, and the muddy imprints of small, bare feet led from the window to the tub.

It was Ben and me left now. I tried to convince him we had to stop her—burn the tree, do something. But Ben wouldn’t listen. He told me to let it go, that it was just a string of bad coincidences.

But when I woke up to find wet, muddy footprints in my house, trailing from the window to the foot of my bed, I knew it was only a matter of time before she came for me too.

Ben stopped answering my calls. The next morning, I found out why. He was found hanging from a tree in his backyard. Mud and leaves were stuffed in his mouth.

It’s just me now.

I can hear her outside. The rustling of the leaves, the faint footsteps circling my house. I know she’s coming. I can feel the cold seep through the walls. The air smells of damp earth and decay, and I can hear whispering.

If you’re reading this, please, for the love of everything, don’t ever mess with the Ouija board, and stay away from the cursed tree in the forest.

Because once you wake her, she won’t stop until she’s taken everything from you.

The mud is seeping under my door. She’s here.