Short scary stories

Road sign

"Attention. Do not go beyond this point. They don't allow people to return."

The old sign was placed in the entrance of the forest. The once yellow color is rusty and the paint is peeling, with leaves twirling up the bar. There was no gate, or explanation why the entrance was forbiden. The small town had settled in the heart of the valley centuries ago, slowly taming the terrain to allow a civilization to grow.

The villagers never talked about the mistery surrounding the area, afraid the words would bring the wrath upon them. Instead they lifted crosses, giant stone monuments around the boarder, stained with the dripping wax of the hundreds of candles burning bellow it.  And, every night, the people would stroll through the town chanting prayers and leaving offerings for the unknown creature roaming the forest.

The village didn't received turists, their location wasn't even marked on the maps. So it was suprising when, one morning, a young man walked down the hill into the streets. He had a big backpack with lot's of tools dangling from it's sides. He greeted everyone, showing his big smile, saying he was doing a trail and stumbled on this civilization, asking where the nearst city was.

The townfolks looked at the man with awe. Never had someone been able to cross the forest unharmed. The man was lead up north, getting instructed to never leave that direction or else we would get lost. Thanking them for the help and saying a last greeting, he dissapeared in the forest.

The night came in earlier than expected that day, bringing a dense mist along. The fog danced through the houses, involving everything it touched into a veil of blindness. The pine trees grew tall in the steep mountain, it's branches hovering the small buildings. A sign of how frail they were amongst the nature.

They were used to this, it happened when the forest was disrespected. Mothers began to shout for their children, while the men were barricading the doors and windows. In a matter of minutes the village was in silence, waiting, fearfully for what was to come. But time appeared to have stalled, like a curse of doom to whoever dared to disobey. One by one, and against their better judgment, people started to fall asleep.

Only then the horror began. Leaved started to rattle, the sound coming and going as waves. Shearching for the man. There weren't any starts in the sky and the moon was hidden being the clouds. Nothing to guide the poor traveler to the safety of civilization. The rattling was replaced by disconnected thuds hitting the ground. It's howels echoing as far as the forest extended. It was close to it's prey.

Then it was heard, cutting through the cold wind, a blood curdling scream. It was followed by cloth being ripped and branches breaking. The pleads grew lourder as the man fought back. All in vein. Soon the familiar sound of claws tearing the skin ended the suffering, the gashing blood starting to pour out of every wound.

The same way the commotion started, it also ended. Leaving the forest to the peace of the night. A reminder for the villagers of the danger that lurks beside them. Of why the sigh was placed in the first place, remaining up in it's stand. No one is allowed into the forest. And for the brave that choose to enter, know that the old trees will be your forever resting site.