Into The Woods // ✓

Finalem

•Never turn around to check behind you. You'll see nothing, but once you start doing it you won't be able to stop, and an ominous feeling will start following you until you don't lock your house's door behind you.

I reminisced the entire way towards my porch, I knew I wound miss the timidness of the woods, or the shade it cast on me permanently.

I felt something watching me, I felt it's eyes bore into the back of my head.m

I turned around, as soon as I turned my stiff neck a feeling washed over my complexion, it started at the top of my head and spread down to my toes.

The feeling of being watched.

But there was nothing, I still couldn't shake off the feeling.

I mounted my porch steps and ascended the wooden stairs.

Never have I been so happy to see my door, I ran my hand along the smooth wooden door.

The pastel green paint flaked off with the touch of my hand.

I opened the door and quickly shut it behind me.

I was safe.

But why didn't I feel like I was?

I panted, gasping for the familiar oxygen as my lungs expanded to their full capacity.

I stumbled to the kitchen, my body was in a severe drought, I needed water.

I grabbed a glass, and dropped it.

The glass shattered along the poorly lit floor, each piece scattering further and further away.

There was a man standing in my house.

He let out a ghostly white aura, it radiated off him, lighting up my cracked tiles on the floor.

He was hooded, it shadowed his sharp jawline, accentuating his chiselled features more.

He spoke, his voice deep and gravely.

"Hey, Danielle, it's your turn."

"W-ha-a-t?" I stuttered, I slowly inched backwards, reaching my unstable hand into the knife drawer.

I'm not scared to do it any more.

"Let's go, to where all people like you go."

"And w-w-here is that?" I inquired, I tried to distract him from his impending doom.

A smirk crept up on my face, and that was my mistake.

I dropped my journal as I screamed, the sound vibrated through my house, but it didn't seem to be loud enough for any one to help me.

The last thing I saw was the mans hood fall from his face, revealing blood red eyes as him mouth diverted into gnarled teeth, yellow and pointed.

He jumped upon me, staring hungrily as the darkness engulfed me.

"Let me take you to the place where you took me," he whispered to me as he pulled out a sharp knife, it glinted with his misty aura.

That was the last thing I saw, my first victim.

Dean Lanson.

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