The dull toll of a church bell reached into the ears of the townsfolk, the sound so powerful it sank into the brains of the people and filled them with dread and an unexplainable calling to head to the town square. Once there had been time when the church bell had been soothing, but now it was twisted and marked the moment of misery. Eleven o'clock, the bell told the townsfolk, they had to get prepared. And so the many people of the forgotten town began to move, almost in unison, like a horde of undead that were controlled by a wicked force. But the townsfolk still had connection to their own mind, although just barely. Sluggishly they marched through the snow-covered streets, flowing like the slowest river in existence. It was programmed in their brain, they had to do this even if they didn't want to.
 
The sky was utterly black and that darkness had devoured the whole town, it made it seem like the settlement was floating in a void of some alternate dimension. But perhaps that was true during the winter celebration, that was the time when the people felt the most isolated and miserable. Still, there was some of the human resilience left, somewhere deep inside, because the people fought against the darkness with their street lamps, powered by electricity. They kept the black nothingness away well enough, but they couldn't banish the shadows that lurked around every corner, laughing and sapping the lifeforce of people. But that's how it is, if there is light, the shadows follow. There were many things wrong in this forsaken place, the shadows were just one of them.
 
Some of the street lights flickered ominously as the crowd of people walked through the streets, all of them wearing sadness and anguish on their faces. They knew too well what was coming and they didn't want to partake in it, but they had to. Slowly the townsfolk gathered to the almost empty town square. There was nothing but snow-covered ground and a huge tree at the center of everything. A twisted spruce, needles grey, almost silvery, and it stood tall and confident, reaching for the black sky. It was the work of a devil, for sure, that this tree was now here, stealing the attention of the people, although no one could prove this theory, no one had actually seen that happen. The townsfolk, every individual, tried to stay as far from the cursed tree as possible. For now, they could only stand there and harsh coldness would relentlessly bite them with its icy fangs, leaving its victims in a frigid state.
 
Together the coldness and darkness tormented the people that had gathered around for the winter celebration. But the sky had a little mercy on the poor souls, and a snowfall began. It was beautiful, it was gentle, and most likely the only good thing that would occur tonight. The snowflakes were slowly falling from the black heaven and some people dared to look up and feel a tiny touch of tenderness in the middle of all the sadness. It even made a handful of little children energetic and hopeful for a moment and they ran around the town square, chasing each other. Their spirits hadn't yet broken and some of the adults looked at the playful children, feeling happy for them, but they were also envious. The longer you live, the more you learn about misery. These little ones still had much to learn about suffering. But let them play now, for they would take a lesson in despair soon enough.
 
Haunting howls then chilled the hearts of people even more. They were on the move, the creatures that had lost their sense of self. They were the enforcers, prowling in the streets of the town, making sure that all the people had gone to the town square. Following a wicked force, they would prey on anyone who had tried to hide in their homes, even the individuals who were too sick to leave the bed. The enforcers would take them and they would be seen never again. Dark forces that manipulated them had left their bodies and minds damaged and they had become blind, but possessed an excellent sense of smell and that's how they would find hiding people. Perhaps once they had been humans, but now, they resembled a grotesque wolf, which was quite a fitting form for them considering their nature. Their howls were sinister, filled with madness and malice, and while these enforcers were on the move, the townsfolk felt nothing but dread inside them.
 
But eventually the howls would fade away and a short-lived relief would wash over the people. No one knew where the enforcers were coming from or where they would go after their prowl, but the townsfolk didn't really care as long as they would return to their nest. People had got used to their presence during the night of winter celebration, and since they stayed away from the town all year, their existence bothered them only for the duration of one moment of the festival night. But some people thought that they lived under the streets of their town, in the sewers, perhaps hibernating, perhaps trying to suppress their ambition of snatching the townsfolk. For the sake of their own sanity, people tried to not think too much of this.
 
It was almost midnight. It almost felt like the air was getting even colder, because of the cursed tree, for sure. The children had stopped playing, they knew that the darkest moment of the year was at hand. They blended in with the mass of anguished adults, becoming just as afraid and miserable.
 
When had all this gone so wrong and twisted? There used to be a time when the festivity had actually been a celebrated event. Back in the day, the sky hadn't been an endless void of nothingness, it had been a soft black velvet that had gently wrapped around the world. The street lights were warm and bright and had illuminated the town so well that only it had been capable of bringing a tiny bit of a holiday spirit into the hearts of people. The snow would decorate the whole settlement, making it a wondrous sight all around, and all the children loved to play in the snow and sculpt all sorts of creatures from it. There were no enforcers, just a bunch of joyful people that enjoyed their time together, sharing foods and drinks and singing in a chorus, as well as giving each other little gifts. It was an exciting time of the year when people would simply bring warmth and tenderness to the otherwise darkest time of the year.
 
At the center of everything had been the grand spruce tree, selected and transported to the town square by the finest woodcutters. The taller the tree, the better. People would honor it by decorating it together, handcrafting ornaments that would then be placed on the branches of the tree. Sometimes snowfall did its part as well and a little bit of white powder created a perfect decoration. Together the townsfolk – and a bit of nature as well – would make a piece of art. Around midnight all the people would gather in the time square and make a circle surrounding the great tree, holding each other by hands. Then they would sing, from the bottom of their hearts, and in unison they would summon benevolence into their little town. They would take it in their hearts and carry it until next year and next winter celebration.
 
Such a beautiful thing had been mutilated; the joy of the festival was completely gone, and the people were forced to partake in the twisted version of it. There are many great powers in the world, hiding and scheming, too many of them being the malicious kind. Often they are driven by selfishness and envy, and although they are mightier than a mortal, they simply can't stand it if the mortals have something wonderful they can share with each other. Because the powerful beings of darkness are in fact the most miserable ones and in their distorted little mind, if they can't have something, then no one can. It was then when a creature of that sort struck the town with its dark magic, cursing the winter celebration. The tenderness, the warmth, the bliss, it was all gone now. For years now, the townsfolk had dwelled in darkness and misery.
 
The toll of the church bell was heard again and so arrived the dreaded moment. It was midnight. People were nervously glancing around, children would seek protection from the arms of their parents, and some mumbled a prayer – although no one would answer them. As the bell continued to make the horrifying sound, the ground beneath the feet of the townsfolk began to shake violently; it was so powerful that some of the people had trouble standing. And then they appeared: the roots of the cursed tree would go deep and now they came forth from underground, breaking the soil and waving around unnaturally like pale tentacles. The roots were like dancing before the eyes of the people, mesmerizing them, taking a hold of their feeble minds. The townsfolk still retained their awareness, but lost the control of their bodies. It was truly a haunting moment to those the tree had chosen, as their bodies would start to move towards the tree against their will and all they could do was scream inside their minds and let the fear flow through their veins.
 
It was sort of sadistic, how the cursed tree made the people watch as it deliberately made some of the townsfolk walk closer. Everyone else was frozen in place, like statues, being imprisoned in their own bodies that could only watch in horror at the scene unfolding before their eyes. Once the tree had made the ones it had chosen come close enough, it prolonged the moment, not doing anything for a while. It just let the terror really sink in. With wide eyes the victims it had chosen were standing before the waving roots, knowing all too well what their fate was going to be.
 
The tree decided that this was enough. With great strength, the roots struck at the small group of people that waited for their demise, and they pierced their bodies from either chest or stomach. The deadly roots would thrust upwards, the impaled bodies hanging from them like gruesome decorations. The victims were bleeding, their blood flowing down the roots to the snow-covered ground, staining it red. And the tree drank all of it, savoring every drop. The moment of agony and fear at the time of their death could be seen from the eyes of the victims and the rest of the townsfolk were staring, horrified, but at the same time, they were a little glad. Because they weren't the ones chosen, they got to live to see another day.
 
Blood wasn't enough to satisfy the appetite of the cursed tree, it also craved flesh. Its roots began to sink back into the ground, taking the fresh corpses with them. Eventually the roots disappeared and the ground magically closed off, not a single thing was left behind and it seemed like nothing had even happened, the earth appeared just as pristine as before the dreaded roots had burst out of it.
 
The spell was broken. The townsfolk gained back the control of their bodies, much to their relief; no matter how many times they would experience it, it never became easier to tolerate. They survived the night and were free to do whatever they wanted. No one wasted time around the cursed tree and people would rush back to their homes, to warmth and safety, but with nightmares in their heads. The tree was left behind, alone in the town square, and it was a grim reminder of the horrors the townsfolk had just witnessed.
 
But soon it would disappear, like it hadn't even been there, when nobody was watching. Not a hint of its existence was left behind, except in the minds of the townsfolk.
 
Until next year.