Chilling tales for the restless night

Lady from the wood

In the year 1692, nestled deep within the rolling moors of West Yorkshire, lay the quiet village of **Haworth**. Surrounded by endless hills and dense, foreboding woods that no child dared enter, the village seemed to exist in a world of its own. Time moved slowly there, with each day passing as a reflection of the one before, and the air felt thick with the weight of history—of old stories, half-remembered and half-forgotten.

The villagers were a simple folk—farmers, tradesmen, and their families—living by the steady rhythm of the land. Yet, every week, without fail, their peaceful existence was interrupted by the arrival of a figure so striking, her presence seemed to alter the very air around her. A woman of extraordinary beauty, her skin a rich, deep shade of mahogany, and her long, dark hair gleaming as if kissed by the sun itself. She possessed a kind of beauty rarely seen in such a remote village, and it captivated the attention of all who laid eyes on her.

The villagers called her *The Dangerous Grace*, for no one knew her true name. She appeared once a week, moving silently through the marketplace, her white gown and brown corset fitting her with a modest elegance that only heightened her allure. She would buy her goods—bread, fresh produce, and perhaps a bottle of wine—and then vanish as mysteriously as she had come, disappearing into the shadowed woods that bordered the village, woods the locals feared to enter.

The men of Haworth—both young and old, married and single—were utterly captivated by her. As she passed through the village, their eyes followed her every movement, their hearts quickened with unspoken admiration and desire. She was a vision, an enchantment, and yet no one dared approach her.

The women, on the other hand, viewed her with suspicion and envy. Gathered in small groups, they whispered harsh judgments. *"She means to steal our husbands,"* they would say, bitterness lacing their voices. *"Our sons as well, no doubt. What woman could command such attention and do no harm?"*

To the women of Haworth, she was a threat—a foreign enchantress who, with a single glance, could disrupt the delicate balance of their lives. But though they resented her, none dared confront her directly. There was something about her—something not easily explained—that held them in fear as much as in disdain.

As the weeks passed, *The Dangerous Grace* continued her visits, gliding through the village like a ghost—admired and despised in equal measure. None were brave enough to speak to her, though many longed to know her. The men yearned to uncover the mystery behind her beauty, while the women prayed for her to leave and never return.

But soon, strange things began to happen in Haworth. First, it was the animals. Dogs were found dead at the edge of the village, their bodies cold and still. Cats disappeared, only to be discovered later in the woods, lifeless. Rumors spread quickly, fear taking root. And then it was the men—strong, healthy men—who began to vanish, leaving behind no trace.

The village grew tense, the air thick with dread. Mothers, wives, and daughters clung to their menfolk, urging them to return home before nightfall. The once-thriving marketplace became hushed, and the fields, once bustling with activity, emptied at dusk. The villagers shared their fears in whispers, each shadow seeming to hold the threat of something unseen.

And yet, even as the village was gripped by this creeping terror, the beautiful woman continued her weekly visits, as poised and serene as ever. She remained an enigma—always polite, always distant. No one dared question her—until one fateful day.

It was a warm morning when William, a young man of 28 years, tall and broad-shouldered, found himself face-to-face with her. He had admired her from a distance many times, but on that day, something emboldened him to speak. As she approached his stall and selected an apple from the basket before him, William felt his heart quicken. He cleared his throat and, with more courage than he knew he possessed, said, *"I must say, you are quite remarkable."*

His words hung in the air, and the market seemed to grow still. The men around him stiffened with envy, while the women exchanged sharp glances, their suspicions confirmed.

The woman turned her dark, enigmatic eyes towards William, a small, knowing smile playing on her lips. Her gaze lingered on him for a moment, sending a shiver down his spine. As he handed her the apple, her fingers brushed against his. *"Thank you,"* she murmured, her voice smooth and melodic, before she turned and disappeared once more into the woods.

The men, green with jealousy, muttered amongst themselves, casting mocking glances in William's direction. They envied his boldness and cursed their own cowardice, while the women of the village seethed with anger. William's fiancée, Eugenia, felt the sting of betrayal in her heart. She had seen the way he looked at the woman, and now, she feared her suspicions were true.

From that moment on, William was consumed by thoughts of *The Dangerous Grace*. Her touch, light as it was, had ignited something in him. He found himself thinking of her constantly, his heart and mind drawn to her in a way he could not explain. The village, his fiancée, his work—all of it faded into the background. He was entranced, ensnared by a beauty that seemed otherworldly.

Each week, when the woman returned, William made a point to speak with her, no matter how brief the exchange. He would ask after her well-being, inquire about her week, and though her answers were always short, there was a softness in her gaze, a lightness in her laugh, that made his heart race. He could not help himself. He was caught, trapped in a web of his own desire.

But Eugenia was not blind to the changes in him. One evening, as they sat by the fire, she could hold her tongue no longer.

*"That woman,"* she said, her voice trembling, *"she has bewitched you, William. I see the way you look at her."*

William, startled by the accusation, frowned. *"You speak nonsense, Eugenia. She is but a kind stranger. Nothing more."*

Eugenia's eyes filled with tears. *"You used to look at me that way,"* she whispered, her voice breaking. *"Now all I see is a man lost to another."*

William, frustrated, stood abruptly. *"Enough of this, Eugenia! You imagine things that do not exist. If you persist with these accusations, I fear there may be no future for us."*

His harsh words hung in the air, and for a moment, all was silent. Eugenia, heartbroken, could only watch as the man she loved slipped further from her grasp, ensnared by a beauty not of this world.