The Grove of Unfinished Work

The Oakridge Preparatory Academy sat atop a hill that overlooked a dense, sprawling forest known as the Thornwood. Before it became a school for the sons of the wealthy, it had been a small seminary called St. Aldhelm’s, where a hundred young men studied for the priesthood. The routine was unvarying: prayers at dawn, classes, chores, and early bedtime. The only chore that caused any trepidation was the washing of the tall, arched windows on the third floor, before the days of safety harnesses. But in all the years of the seminary’s operation, no student had ever fallen.

For decades, life at the academy was as predictable as the tolling of the chapel bell. That changed in the autumn of 1922, when the peace was shattered by a sound that came from the depths of the Thornwood. It was a rhythmic, grinding noise, like something heavy being bitten into by a giant’s teeth – the unmistakable sound of wood being cut. At first, it was only the students who heard it, lying in their dormitories with the windows slightly ajar. They whispered to each other, but the priests dismissed it as a farmer felling timber. Yet, the sound came again the next night, and the next, always around the same hour, just after midnight.

The priests soon heard it too, and a gnawing unease settled over the school. On the fifth night, Father Aldric, a stern but pragmatic man, decided enough was enough. He gathered a group of twelve students, each armed with a lantern and a stout walking stick, and led them down the winding path into the Thornwood. The sound grew louder as they approached, guiding them to a small clearing. There, bathed in the pale moonlight, stood a massive oak tree. Its trunk was half severed, a deep wedge cut into it, but no axe, no saw, no sign of any tool or person was anywhere to be seen. The cut was fresh, the wood still pale and moist, but the silence was absolute. The students exchanged frightened glances, and Father Aldric, despite his courage, felt a cold shiver run down his spine. He ordered everyone back, and they retreated to the safety of the school.

The next night, the cutting resumed, more insistent than before. Father Aldric, determined to solve the mystery, led a smaller group – five students and two other priests – back into the wood. This time, they positioned themselves in a wide circle around the grove, hidden behind trees and bushes, waiting. The sound started, and from their hiding spots, they crept closer. When they reached the clearing, they saw the same oak, but this time, the cut was deeper, nearly halfway through the trunk. And still, no one was there. The sound stopped the moment they stepped into the clearing, leaving only the rustle of leaves and the thumping of their hearts.

Frustrated and unnerved, they waited for nearly an hour, but nothing happened. They returned to the school, but the disturbance continued for weeks. Every night, the sound of cutting, and every morning, they would find the oak tree with a deeper gash, yet no sign of human activity. The students began to avoid the windows facing the wood, and rumors spread like wildfire. Some said it was the ghost of a lumberjack killed in the forest; others whispered that it was a demon, carving a doorway into their world.

One night, a young student named Thomas Merton, who had a knack for mimicking sounds, decided to try something. He crept out of his dormitory and hid near the clearing with a pocket watch to time the intervals. The cutting began at 12:47 AM. He held his breath and counted. Each chop came exactly 3 seconds after the previous one. He watched the tree, and in the darkness, he noticed something strange: the air around the cut seemed to shimmer, as if heat were rising from it. And with each chop, the cut deepened without any visible force. Thomas stayed until the cutting stopped at 1:23 AM, and then he fled back to his bed, his mind racing.

The next day, he shared his observation with Father Aldric. The priest frowned, impressed but skeptical. ‘What are you suggesting, Thomas?’ he asked. ‘I think it’s not a person, Father. It’s the tree itself. It’s cutting itself down.’ The idea was absurd, but Father Aldric had no better explanation. That night, he decided to try a different approach. He gathered all the students and priests in the chapel and led them in a prayer for protection. As they prayed, they could hear the cutting through the open windows, growing louder and more frenzied. Suddenly, a loud crack echoed through the grounds, followed by a heavy thud that shook the building. They rushed to the windows and saw the great oak lying on the ground, its trunk completely severed, but still no sign of anyone.

The cutting ceased after that. The school returned to its normal routine, and the incident was gradually forgotten, chalked up to a strange natural phenomenon. But Thomas remained troubled. He began to study the tree, examining the grain of the cut. He noticed that the rings in the wood were irregular, and in the center, there was a dark, almost black knot. He pried it open and found a small, hollow cavity. Inside, neatly folded, was a piece of parchment. It was a list of names, all of them students who had attended St. Aldhelm’s over the years. At the top was ‘Elias Thornton,’ and at the bottom, in the same ink, was ‘Thomas Merton.’ The list had a note at the bottom: ‘THE GROVE HAS ITS TOLL.’ Thomas felt a chill as he realized that Elias Thornton had died in a tragic fall from one of the third-floor windows many years ago, a death that had been officially ruled an accident.

Thomas never told anyone about the parchment. He burned it in the chapel candle, but he knew he had been marked. That night, he lay in his bed, unable to sleep, listening for the sound of cutting. It didn’t come, but the silence felt heavier, more ominous. He turned to the window and saw the shadow of the fallen tree, its stump gleaming in the moonlight. And for a moment, he could swear he saw a figure standing there, an old man with a scythe-like tool, staring up at him. Thomas blinked, and the figure was gone. But the next morning, when the students went out to clear the tree, they found that the stump had been neatly cut flat, and carved into it were the words: ‘NOTHING IS EVER FINISHED.’