A thick blanket of fog surrounded you like a tangled spider web. The sky was a drab shade of gray and the sun was a white and hazy ball. Your head was resting against the cool glass as the road and trees zoomed past you in gloomy shades. It was your first year after graduating college and you wanted to spend that newfound freedom travelling. So you and your friend, Hannah, had planned a three-week visit to Europe and boarded the first flight you could find.
You've visited Spain, where the two of you've saw Guernica in person, Museo del Padro of Goya fame, and La Boqueria. Last week, you've visited the Sistine Chapel, the Colosseum, and Museo Correr. For the final week, the two of you were in rural France for three days, then visit Paris, and finally returning back home.
"It's so foggy," Hannah murmured, squinting her eyes at the thick cloak of white in front of her.
You nodded your head in agreement. "Yeah, it's like something out of a horror story."
Hannah didn't respond to your comment, instead focusing on the gravel road in front of you. She slowed down as she saw village coming into view. Actually, calling it a village was a bit generous as it was a small cluster of homes and a couple of stores on either side of the road. Everything was just as gray and faded as the surrounding woods, making it seem as if it was made out of fog.
She slowed down at old man passing by, his skin liver spotted and face rough but held an underlying warmth to it. He wore a wool coat that was a dull shade of green and with a few tears here and there.
"Excuse me!" She called out and stopped the car. "Can you speak English?"
The old man turned around and blinked a couple times, as if to make sure that she was real. Hannah looked sheepish and looked away from him, letting out a small swear.
"Uhm, can you speak English?" She repeated.
"Oh, yes," he nodded his head and gave her a smile, his accent was very thick and his voice hoarse, making it quite difficult to hear.
"Okay, that's a relief," she returned the smile. "Can you tell me the directions of the forest?"
At that point the elderly man's smile dropped and a horrified look on his face appeared. "Le Forêt de le Sorcière..."
"What?" Hannah blinked.
"You should turn the other way," he said. "That forest, it's cursed."
"Cursed?" You interjected.
The old man nodded his head. "Yes, cursed by a witch more than five-hundred years ago. Those that have entered the forest have never returned."
"What did the witch do to them?"
"No one knows," he responded, his voice tightening with fear. "But please for the love of God, do not enter that forest if you value your lives!"
"But we have to go through the forest," Hannah insisted. "Our hotel is in the other town."
"There's another way to the town, it'll take an extra hour--"
"An extra hour?" She sputtered. "I am not doing an extra hour, just tell me the directions through the forest!"
The old man looked at the two of you and slowly shook his head. "Que Dieu ait pitié de vous deux. You're going to want to go right through the forest and take the first left after it, then the first exit you see."
"Alright, got it!" Hannah nodded her head. "Thank you, and have a good one!"
She rolled the window up and drove out of the town. You looked behind you to see the old man make a sign of the cross as he was eventually eaten by the fog. Turning back to Hannah, you leaned in your seat with your leg crossed over the other.
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YOU ARE READING
The Witch's Forest
HorrorAfter two weeks in Spain and Italy, you and your friend were going to finish off your trip to Europe with a visit in rural France before heading back home. In order to get to the town you were going to be staying in, you had to cut through a forest...