Jason sat on his couch, flipping through channels as rain pounded against the windows. He turned the volume up, but even the TV couldn’t compete with the wind that howled along the house and rattled the walls.
“Geez. How long is this supposed to last?” he groaned, watching one news anchor after another announce tornadoes, hurricanes, record-breaking winds—a once-in-a-lifetime event, they said. “This world is going to hell.”
A sudden scrape jolted him upright. Branches clawed the windows, thuds shaking the house as the storm hurled debris against the siding. Jason’s wine glass rattled in his hand as lightning flashed.
I’m an idiot for staying, he thought with a dry chuckle—but the relief was brief. The TV screen gave a final, desperate flicker before going dark. The lights followed, leaving him wrapped in suffocating darkness.
“Great.”
With a sharp exhale, he crossed to the closet and pulled out the flashlights he had stashed. A few clicks brought them to life, their yellow beams cutting across the floor and stopping on the branches lying by the door.
“Wait. Branches?”
Tendrils of bark and vine slithered inside, encircling the furniture.
“What in the…?”
A heavy thud shook the door. He dropped to the ground, eyes locked on the doorknob as his heart hammered.
Twisting around the knob, the branches climbed higher, tightening their grip with each rotation. When the knob resisted, they split into smaller tendrils and slithered into the lock, writhing and probing.
He surged to his feet, clawing at the vines, ripping them from the handle—but then a click echoed through the room. Hinges protested as he rammed his shoulder into the door, failing. He stumbled back, glancing toward the basement.
Would it matter?
He pivoted, sprinting—when sweetness cut through his panic.
“Hello there.”
Wait. That sounded like a girl.
What he saw as he turned wasn’t human—or at least, he didn’t think it was. Her skin was pale green, her body wrapped in vines and leaves that covered only what mattered. She watched him, head cocked, as his jaw dropped and he fell silent.
“May I enter, please? It’s very unpleasant outside.”
Another roar of wind punctuated her words, blowing her like a swaying tree, yet she stayed rooted in place.
Adrenaline dried his throat as he staggered back, struggling to make sense of the figure before him.
“I don’t intend to harm you.”
As she spoke, the roots that had sprawled through his home retreated into her body, leaving not even a trace of dust. She swayed on her feet, one hand gripping the doorframe for balance.
Every instinct screamed no, but reason whispered maybe. He shook his head, refusing to listen.
With a long exhale, he planted his rear foot. “Can you not stand the weather? You seem… fine.”
A subtle frown crossed her face as she gazed at the sky.
“Most times, yes. This time is unique. Father is furious—and like any tree, I will soon topple.”
He rubbed his forehead. I can’t believe I’m going to say this.
“Okay. Come in. Just… don’t kill me.”
Her face lit up as the frown faded. She crossed the threshold, the door slamming shut behind her. She took a moment to study the room.
“You have a pleasant home.”
As her fingers brushed the leaves, the potted plant’s stems shot upward, a silent symphony of green unfolding before him.
“T-Thanks.”
He sighed as she waltzed over to the sofa and sat down. His body screamed at him to run, but he clenched his fists and sat a cushion away. An awkward silence settled, louder than the storm outside.
“So… if I may. What are you?”
“I’m a Dryad.” She turned toward him, posture rigid, voice gentle.
“A Dryad? You’re… a magical creature?”
“Don’t call me a creature. Minotaurs are brutes—I am nothing like them. I’m closer to mortal than beast.”
Her eyes darkened, the playful air vanishing.
“Sorry,” he stammered. “I didn’t mean to offend you.”
“It’s fine,” she said sharply. “Just don’t make that mistake again.”
Her gaze lingered on him. “By the way, I neglected to ask your name.”
“Jason.”
“Nice to meet you, Jason. I am known as Thalinna.”
They sat in silence before he asked, “Would you like something to drink? Tea, coffee?”
“I appreciate the offer, but the rain provided enough for quite some time.”
She sank deeper into the sofa, her gaze drifting toward the window, as though she could still feel the wind pressing against the walls.
He shifted, fingers drumming against his leg.
“Sorry if this is rude… but how long are you staying?”
She chuckled, her hand resting on his knee. He recoiled in surprise.
“Don’t worry. I won’t intrude longer than necessary.”
Heat rushed to his face—but faded as the lights and TV roared back to life.
Elevated winds and dangerous weather conditions continue. Stay indoors until the storm passes. Expected timeframe: Monday morning.
His eyes widened.
Monday?
He felt her shift beside him, her gaze moving from the screen to his face.
“Guess I’ll be staying.” A faint smile touched her lips, though unease edged her voice. “I only hope my sisters don’t interfere.”
By the gods… I’m stuck with a Dryad all weekend. And what does she mean by interfere?
About This Story
The Dryad at the Door is the first entry in my Nymph Encounters series, part of the Modern Greek Myths collection.
If you enjoyed this story, follow along so you don’t miss the next chapter.
