Happy New Year Everyone! We are kicking off 2026 by sharing another submission from our 2025 WGI Invite to Write Challenge!
We asked our talented cohort to create a piece on this prompt: Write a story where the end is also the beginning.
Next up, we are sharing J.L. Gang’s piece entitled, “The Pines.” Stay tuned, as we will continue sharing the submissions throughout the winter!
You can find more work from J.L. on his website: https://jlgang.wordpress.com/ and Amazon Author Page.
The Pines
“Between every two pines is a doorway to a new world.” This quote by John Muir often comes to mind when I venture into the forest. A beautiful metaphor for escaping the hustle of contemporary life and stepping into nature. I couldn’t have been more misguided.
To unwind from the week’s chaos, I spend my time off fleeing to the forest, wishing to find solace in seclusion, and today seemed like any other day. As I walked down the same path I’d taken thousands of times, I noticed a small trail veering to the left. As I stood at this alternate path, a heavy pull to follow overtook my mind. Yielding, I veered left in pursuit of an adventure.
With a quick, carefree stride, I discovered the trail to be less maintained, overgrown with wild plants and at times too narrow to walk with ease. Doubting it was anything other than a game trail, I debated turning back to my normal manicured route. It was during that moment of contemplation along this wild path that a primordial urge in the pit of my stomach urged me to press on. Succumbing, I pushed the small overhanging branch out of my path and ventured deeper into the woods than I normally would dare.
As the trail twisted with every step, the trees had a dramatic increase in size. Stopping to welcome this wonder, I stood at the edge of an old-growth hardwood forest. Craning my neck, I followed their stout trunks into the sky, their expansive canopies blotting out the sun. In this darkened state, now reminiscent of twilight and with a low mist clinging to the ground, I saw two pine trees twisted together, their trunks forming a natural archway. Drawing closer, the air cooled. The mist condensed into a dense fog that pierced my clothing. Despite the goosebumps now forming over my body, I continued my approach. Each breath brought the cold, humid air burning into my lungs as the thought of fleeing ensnared my mind. Before I could react, I stood before the intertwining pines, dwarfed by their magnitude.
The sweet smell of vanilla and butterscotch filled the air as I stared into the deep red and black puzzle-pieced bark. Hypnotized by the intoxicating aroma, my hand reached toward the tree’s rough surface. The cool, damp bark felt coarse beneath my palm until a sudden sting burned into the center of my hand. Bringing my hand up for closer inspection, a small bead of crimson blood seeped from my skin. As I gazed at the dark droplet, a whisper drifted through the mist, drawing my attention away and forcing me to scan the surrounding trees.
Not seeing another soul, I moved my hand closer for another look, but before I could examine the wound, it was pulled by an unseen force against the coarse bark. Taken aback, I tried to pull my hand away, only to find it somehow fastened to the surface. Clenching my teeth with my heart racing in terror, I wildly yanked backward, ripping my hand free from the tree’s grip.
Breathless and with my pulse pounding in my ears, I looked back down at my hand. Finding my palm covered in tiny fragments of bark, I drew my hand up and with a quick forceful blow, dislodged the pieces. Now with the fragments removed, I saw that the blood was gone, and the cut, much to my amazement, was sealed with amber sap. Looking back towards the tree in confusion, I had little time to discover what had happened as the hair on the back of my neck stood on end, with a layer of goosebumps forming over my body. As the sense of being watched grew stronger, the snap of a twig shattered the silence, and an icy dread writhed its way up my spine.
With some hesitation, I turned to face my perceived stalker, only to be met by the ringing silence of the forest. Devoid of all noise, the shivers deepened. “Hello?” I questioned the void, my weighted words falling flat. In this soundless space, only the rapid thumping of my heart remained. As I stood there, the tingle of static electricity on my arms, reminiscent of a loving
hand, urged me to turn. Falling victim to this feeling, I refaced the pines. It was at the center of this natural doorway that a bright white light flashed, like bolts of lightning. Between these blinding flashes and for a split second, I thought I had discovered my watcher, as the image of a familiar long-bearded man burned into my eyes. With a tremble in my hands and legs, I wobbled backwards as the light appeared to expand, leaving a jagged crevasse in the air. Beholding this extraordinary scene, a large rush of air shot out, casting the mist and myself away as nothing more than a leaf in the wind.
Finding myself flat on the ground, I stared up at the canopy. As my strength returned, I sat up and looked towards the conjoined trees. The bright split was replaced with the serene image of a grass-laden hill. Frozen to the ground, my attention was captured by the hypnotic wave of the grass moving in the breeze, like waves breaking on ocean shores. As my body rocked and swayed in rhythm, I felt an inescapable pull to enter. Fighting the urge, just as I should have fought the others, I dug my fingers into the damp, moss-covered ground.
Even with this anchor, the force tugging against me ripped the earth from my fingers. Nearing the base of the pines, I clawed at the ground, filling my nails with soil as I still moved. Looking for any means to cease my advance, I made one last attempt and grabbed hold of a small sapling. As the tree cracked and bent, I peered towards the doorway as a phantom hand gripped onto my leg without feeling. Gritting my teeth, I gave one last tug with my remaining strength, only to watch the roots pull from the soil and the dense misty forest vanish as I was dragged through the pines.
Now sitting alone, swathed in loving isolation, I contemplate Muir’s words as I watch the tall grass sway, “The deeper the solitude, the less the sense of loneliness, and the nearer our friends.”
