Wind in the Willows
A hissing startled Sam awake. They looked up through the Willow branches and into the star studded sky. Slowly Sam sat up on the old quilt. There was no moon in sight now. Nor any sign of the Sun. Odd. It should be up by now. But Sam is not interesting in that now, the hissing has grown louder and deafening. Sam covers their ears and closes their eyes. The Willow branches touch Sam. They can't feel them. The Willow intwines itself with Sam; burrowing into the flesh. Sam screams. Then whimpers as the hissing dies down. Sam looks at the branches coming from their skin. Watches as the blood pools, staining the old quilt an unnatural raspberry red. The stars are coolly watching from the heavens. They offer no help or guidance. The breeze moves the Willow's branches and they rustle and hiss. Sam winces from their movement. Willows are know for their insects. They are drawn to Sam's flesh and blood like moths to the flame. Sam can only watch as they lay immobilized from the Willow's branches. Carefully a spider weaves it's new web. Beetles make their way down the branches and into Sam. It's not long before Sam starts twitching from the insects movements.
The sun never came for Sam again.
Sam was found on the anniversary. They dug up the quilt, and inside resided a strange sight. The roots of the Willow had grown through the body. Bugs had feasted on the corpse. A burrowing spider had made home in a socket. The Willow seemed to take Sam into itself as rumor has it. They say that if you listen closely on windy nights, the Willow will sound like someone screaming bloody murder.