It Looked Like Wet Noodles on a Tree. The Truth Made My Blood Run Cold (2 of 3)
A Living Infection
I tried to convince myself it was harmless. Fungus, maybe. Strange but ordinary. But when I looked again the next morning, the “ribbons” had thickened into gelatinous fingers, curling deeper into the bark as if the tree itself were being eaten alive.
I finally gave in and called an arborist. He barely glanced at the pictures I sent before his voice hardened.
“Don’t let anyone near that tree,” he said. “It’s Cronartium conigenum.”
The name meant nothing to me, but his tone was worse than the words. He explained it was a rust fungus—a parasite that doesn’t just grow, but invades. It worms through bark and wood until the tree weakens, then explodes outward in those orange, writhing masses.
“And once it shows itself,” he added, “you can bet it’s already spread.”
The Quiet Horror
That night, I couldn’t sleep. From the bedroom window, I could see the infected tree leaning against the moonlight. The fungus seemed to shimmer, almost glowing, like dozens of eyes opening in the dark.
By morning, it had spread to the next tree. Orange tendrils, glistening with dew, snaked down the trunk like veins. Birds avoided the branches. Even the squirrels, usually bold enough to chatter at me from above, were gone.
And then I noticed the smell. A sour, resinous rot that clung to my clothes when I walked too close, that seemed to follow me back inside.
It Spreads in Silence
Within a week, the yard was different. Shadows felt heavier. Branches creaked though the air was still. My dog refused to step near the pines, whining and backing away as though something unseen crouched there.
I read everything I could find, and the truth made my stomach turn: Cronartium conigenum releases spores—microscopic, invisible—that ride the wind, clinging to skin, fur, clothing. Once it arrives, it doesn’t stop. It spreads.
And it waits.
The Final Warning
On the eighth night, I woke to a sound. A faint tearing, like fabric ripping in another room. I crept to the window. What I saw froze me in place.