Creepypasta Collection Book 1

Fenter Woods

I used to live in a small town called Fenter. It was a quiet place to grow up with one school, a doctor, a police station, a cinema (with films shown a month after the national release date), two restaurants and a host of local shops on the west side. Over on the east side of Fenter was the residential area with about forty houses, the town bar and the local woods, which were about twenty square miles across.

Even though I'd grown up my whole life playing in those woods it was still easy to get lost in them, so my father used to tell me and my friends to never go past the creek that ran through about a mile in. Still this gave us plenty of space to play in and we spent many summers building tree forts and playing hide and seek amongst the tall trees. One last summer evening me and my friend, Jess, were out near the creek seeing how close we could sneak up on the rabbits that inhabited the woods before they'd notice and run away.

I'd spent about ten minutes searching for one and, in my eagerness; I'd left Jess behind. She'd stopped to examine some odd shaped rocks and being impatient I'd told her to catch up when she was finished. I was just reaching the hill where the creek bent and curved round to travel near an oak tree. I held my breath, grabbed my jacket to stop it flapping in the breeze and began slowly inching towards it. I was careful to avoid stepping on any twigs, if one snapped underfoot it was a definite gameover and with the sun going down this would probably be the last chance I got to play before I had to go home for dinner.

The rabbit was blissfully unaware of my presence; its brown coat tinged orange by the setting sun, ears flopped down like a hunter's hat. The irony doesn't escape me as I crept up on it, silent as the leaves floating in the breeze. I smirked, I was about four meters away from it now and it still hadn't noticed me, not my best but not bad. I slowed my pace even more; I didn't want to make a rookie mistake in my excitement and ruin this opportunity. The rabbit finished on its leaf and casually began sniffing the next one before digging in. Two meters away now, the closest I'd ever gotten, I felt my heartbeat in my chest and for a second I was scared the rabbit would hear it thudding against my rib cage and dart off. I shook my head and continued up behind it. It was almost within arms reach, I couldn't believe it, I stretched out my arm, fingers extended. Wait till Jess heard about this, I'd be the first kid in town to have touched a forest rabbit. My hand was about a foot from brushing its soft pelt now, I could see each individual hair on its back. Thirty centimeters, I'd done it. I'D Done IT!

Suddenly an ear splitting scream pierced the air, shaking the silence of the woods into shock and causing the resting birds to panic and scatter from the trees. I gasped and quick as a flash the rabbit was under the bush and left forever. I cursed aloud and spat, frustration clouding my head. It was a good few seconds before I even stopped to think where the scream had come from. Then like a falling tree it hit me. JESS.

I sprinted back up the creek as fast as I could. She'd been about two hundred yards back when I'd last seen her, near the old silver birches. It took me about two minutes to reach the spot, next to the weird pile of rocks. My brow was covered in sweat and my hair was messed up where the wind had whipped through it but all I could think of was finding Jess, even though I knew the woods were perfectly safe, I cursed myself for having left her alone. I spun around in a circle; scanning for any sign of her but there was none.

"JESS!" I yelled out, my voice travelling through the woods and echoing off the trees. It was getting darker and tall shadows were being cast all around me like a net.

"JESS WHERE ARE YOU, CALL OUT TO ME, JESS!" I stood and listened but there was no reply. I was just about to run further up the creek where the trail began to see if she had started to make her way home when I saw it. On the other side of the creek about fifty yards away it stood, tall as the lowest branches of the sycamore next to it about seven foot up. It was covered in black rags, ripped and torn across its thin, wiry body with a hood pulled tightly around its head, obscuring it's features. Two white, pupil-less eyes stared at me from the shadowed recess and I spied the flash of teeth. Long slender arms with hook-like fingers splaying off of stumped hands almost dragged against the floor by its side. I suddenly noticed an overpowering smell and wondered how I'd missed it. I'd smelt it before on the farms when the cattle were harvested in the slaughterhouses; it was the smell of death, thick and despairing.