...

Once upon a time, in a dark, dark forest,
there lived a a strange woman, all alone. She never
saw the sun because the wooded forest's density allowed
no light to permeate the trees. Every night she heard
creaks and groans, moaning and screaming.

She knew they were out there. Every day
on her morning walk, she observed the tree
trunks she had passed by the day before. And
every morning a new chill crept down her spine
as she saw that the old symbols were gone,
and fresh symbols had appeared.

Never had she expected them to be so active, so...alive.

Never had she expected to be so scared,
so violently full of horrifying terror that she
couldn't eat, couldn't sleep, couldn't breathe.

Never, had she expected to be wrapped in a darkness
so suffocating she could feel its hand clamped over her mouth.

But it was too late. Too late to for an escape.

They knew she was here.

And they knew why.

She should never have convinced
her husband to move out of the city.
She should never have allowed
him to buy that house.

The dense, foreboding mist seeping
into their yard from the forest seemed
to carry with it the echoes of a scream,
the scream of someone who lived long
ago and died an unnatural death.

Time for lunch. Time to make sandwiches.

The children and their father were playing
a game out back...they're safe. She wished
they'd stay away from those trees, though.
She finished cutting the apples and a
strange sensation fell over her.

Why is it so quiet? Why aren't they laughing?

Where are they?

Gone.

And so she was here, in the pit of an
evil monster, home to the graves of countless
innocents, not knowing as she stepped
through the trees, that she was
walking over blood and bones.

How soon would they be her own?