In the hills above a quiet frontier town stands a solitary black walnut tree—twisted, ancient, and never bare, even in frost. No one planted it. No one remembers it being young. They call it The Mourning Tree because grief clings to its bark like moss, and rumor says anyone who rests beneath its shade will dream of their own funeral that night.

For schoolteacher Samuel Finch, it begins as a dare from children—”Go sit under the ghost tree, Mister Finch!”—but when he wakes with clumps of damp soil stuck to his feet and the scent of lilies in his nostrils, the legend feels suddenly personal.

The dreams grow worse. Every night under the Mourning Tree, he’s buried deeper—first by strangers, then by family, and finally by himself. Desperate, he tries to destroy it, but its bark bleeds and his axe rusts overnight.

He learns the truth from a blind widow, who once dreamt there too. The tree feeds on grief and memory, taking pieces of its dreamers until they disappear entirely, not dead—but unremembered.

To break the curse, someone must mourn him for real. He writes letters. Confesses love. Makes peace with estranged friends. Then he returns to the tree one last time.

He wakes clean. Dry. Alive. The tree, now leafless, stands quiet.

But days later, a wanderer arrives in town. Tired. Curious. Drawn to the lonely hill where the strange black tree grows full again.