#it-is-a-talking-tree

[it-is-a-talking-tree]

Excuse the hair.

[whatistwigs]

Sticks - Submission from it-is-a-talking-tree

I had a friend in school when i was about seven years old. Let’s say his name was John. The circumstances of John’s death have lead me to think that, perhaps, you could make use of the story. Even if I can’t.

John would often have us play a game with his imaginary friend. He called this friend Sticks. My friend always said that Sticks was like a sort of deer-man. So, I always thought of him as a kind of centaur-like creature. I was never that interested in the thing, and I never really asked for any details.

Well, he never grew out of his imaginary friend the way the rest of us grew out of ours. He was fifteen and still talking about his friend. I was a little concerned about it, but I hadn’t known he was in actual danger.

A friend of mine (I shan’t say who) told me about your ‘twig’ problem and, after skimming through your posts, I was reminded of some drawings and a note - short letter - John left me before he committed suicide.

I can’t find the drawing right now, but I still have the note.

In the last couple of weeks he was alive he stopped going to school completely. When we talked, it was always about Sticks for him. I visited him a couple of nights before he died. His parents weren’t home, and he didn’t talk much. I managed to talk to him a bit about how school was (shitty, of course), and he told me, naturally, about Sticks.

It was now that he told me that his friend had become angry with him. John hadn’t done what Sticks had wanted him to do, or something like that. 

He wouldn’t talk about him after that. For once, he was himself again. I went home with a package he told me I’d know when to open. So, when he died, I found his note.

He’d drawn Sticks as a roughly human figure, quite hunched over and with rough, sort of bark-like skin on his arms. The face was human-ish too, although the mouth was jagged, and the eyes sunken (or, at best, completely dark in colour).

The ‘sticks’ grew from its back in a similar way to how antlers might grow from a deer. It wasn’t exactly the more endearing idea I had once had of the character.

The note explained that Sticks had started being aggressive. John would wake up sometimes to it standing close to him. Sometimes he would have grazes on his arms.

His cat had been attacked, too. I’ll spare you the details, but suffice to say there wasn’t much of a cat left when they found her. His parents had passed it off as a dog attack, but John insisted that he had seen Sticks do it.

John was found dead in his room. From the reports, he’d torn into both his arms with a serrated blade. I don’t know any more about that part, and I’m not sure I want to.

I tried to contact his parents at the time, but they moved away strangely soon after John’s funeral.

Now, I have to admit something. I did see a strange figure at his funeral - but I didn’t get a good look at it. It could have been a large dog, or even a damn bush in the wind. I was paranoid at the time, but eventually I convinced myself that John had just been a very sick, unfortunate, friend. I never understood why his parents never got him help.

It’s been a few days since I started following your blog now, and I think I should add that I’ve started having these really weird dreams - scary, or at least unnerving:

I stand on a dirt road I don’t recognise. Trees on both sides. It’s bright as day, and I can see a figure a ways down the road. I’ve never actually seen him in the flesh but I know that this is Sticks. He’s getting closer every time I have the dream - which isn’t often, exactly, but… it’s regular.

I’m scared, and I’ve been brought into something I would have much rather avoided, but I think Sticks would have turned up sooner or later anyway.

Now I’m just glad that I’m not alone. Sorry if that’s a little morbid.

I’m going to try to get in contact with John’s parents. If I turn anything up, I’ll send it your way.

Thank you for listening, and Good luck.

[whatistwigs]

Submission from it-is-a-talking-tree

I found John’s drawing last night, like I said. It’s pretty crumpled now, but it’s in good condition - I did my best to keep it as it was, seeing at was the last thing he gave me, and something he had believed in. I don’t know, maybe I thought it could have meant something at the time.

The second sketch is my own - how I think Sticks looks in my dream. I think.

In the end, I kept it to myself. The only time I ever asked his parents about Sticks as a child, they cancelled a sleepover we had planned, and John didn’t talk about his ‘friend’ for days after that.

Anyway, I asked my parents if they knew where John’s parents had moved to, or if they had a number. They said they didn’t know who I was talking about. Weird. John was a close friend, but I supposed that they’d just sort of forgotten him because he didn’t come to our house in the later years of his life.

But my friends had trouble remembering him, too. Friends who were as close to him as I had been. But they remembered Sticks - the name, at least. Can you think of a way to explain that, logically?

I’m done with this for today - I can’t make any sense of all this. I hope this is at least a little bit useful.

Could it cause amnesia? Could that be it?

Update! My anonymous friend sent me an email address for John’s parents. The timing is almost too good to be true, right?

So, anyway, I send them a message just saying hello, asking if they remembered me, how their son was, that kind of thing. I just received a reply saying that not only did they not remember ever having a son, but that they only ever had a dog, named Sticks.

Nobody but my friend and I can remember John at all. I’m beyond confused now, not to mention terrified. 

But everyone remembers Sticks. What do they remember? A dog? Something else? If I didn’t know about this being a seemingly widespread thing, I’d think I was just - insane.

I’m going over to my friend’s place so we can talk over this. they’re the only person in the world who seems to understand. Plus, they’ve got cinnamon buns. They make the best I’ve ever had. It’s the one thing I actually have to look forward to today.

Something has to come of this. If not… well, I guess that’s the way it goes. If I do get some extra info, I can send it your way.

I know it doesn’t give a whole load of answers but… I found some of it intriguing.

Again, I hope this helps - at least a little bit.