Superstition {On hold}

Chapter 5

Chapter V

Travers

It was a dark night. The moon hardly shone through the thick black clouds in the sky. There were no stars up either. Nothing but an inky black sky. Bare forest trees towered high above Travers’ head, stretching tall, reaching for the dark night sky. It was cold. So cold. His breath swirled out into the cold air like smoke. The spidery tree branches clicked together every time a soft breeze blew while the dry leaves on the cold ground ruffled and swirled around him. Travers was walking, taking each step with caution with the crunching of dead leaves under his feet.

Crunch, crunch, crunch.

Further and further into the dark woods he went with fear heavy in his stomach. He didn’t quite know exactly why he was scared but something told him he should be. Maybe it was the trees with their twiggy branches. Maybe it was the absence of the moon and the stars in the sky. Maybe it was the swallowing darkness... It was so dense, Travers was afraid that he’d disappear into the nothingness. But he kept going. Further and further, deeper and deeper into the woods.

Crunch. Crack. Crunch. Crunch.

The thumping of his heart filled his ears and pounded his chest. This was nothing like the night he’d spent in the dark crypt under the church with Reece with its weathered walls and stench of musty stone. This darkness felt wrong. It almost felt...alive.

 Robed figures, even denser than the dark, drifted through the trees. Their cold prying eyes invisible under the heavy shadow their cloaks provided. Travers could hear them breathing, laboured and thick, like their lungs were full of mud. He tried his best to ignore them. Tried to imagine that they weren’t there. Tried to convince himself that they weren’t real; that there was no such thing as demons. But he just couldn’t convince himself. They were real. Very real. And most likely very dangerous. The atmosphere dropped by ten degrees. Travers began to shiver. A throaty croak echoed somewhere in the darkness ahead of him and stretched far into the woods. He wrapped his arms around his body and kept on going. He couldn’t turn around now—even if he wanted to. His feet seemed to have a mind of their own. He had to keep going...only because he had no choice.

The trees around him began to bubble and morph.  Blood-curdling faces appeared on the bark of the trees with dread, sorrow, and fear washed all over their faces. Travers’ stomach tightened. They were a perfect clash of wood and flesh. He couldn’t tell whether they were made of bark or actual human skin. Some of the faces weren’t even fully formed. Open mouths, noses and bloodshot eyes were wedged in between the faces. The lips would quiver; the dark haunting eyes stared blankly with tears heavy in them—except the tears weren’t like regular tears. No, these tears were black and thick like tar. They left dark trails as they slowly trickled down the grotesque monsters that were once trees. Harsh whispers sounded all around him; fast and cruel. In the transition, the tree branches had turned into limbs. Arms and legs, thighs and hands. They drooped towards the ground under their weight just meters above Travers’ head.

But he went on.

Crunch, crunch, crack—a sickening sound like boots trudging on mud made Travers stop in his tracks.

 He’d stepped on something brittle and slimy. He looked down to check on what it was he’d stepped on. He flung himself back in horror. There, exactly where his foot had been a moment ago was a decomposing head. Its eye sockets filled with squirming maggots. Its right side had been crushed under his weight. Thick red goo oozed out of its dent.

The smell was horrible.

 Travers hunched over and threw up with shock and disgust. The harsh whispers from the trees grew louder in his ears. He covered his ears and fought back a sob of despair. “WHAT DO WANT FROM ME!” Travers yelled at the trees. His voice quivered.