Crooked Man

F I F T Y E I G H T

Trying to sleep in a dark and cold forest isn't as hard as it sounds. It's just gotta be a normal forest. Just...not this one.

This forest where all the souls of the dead live. Haunt.

And if one thing I learned from this very silly and unnecessary trip is that not all haunted places are houses.

Maybe if I don't sleep (mostly because I can't, cause it's scary) I can keep walking and make it to Cornwall before the sun is up!

I get up from the "bed" I had made from leafs and go through my hair with my hand. The sweat dripping from my face feels cold on my skin. Standing against the wind, I wipe it away.

I walk. Walk. And you might ask how I know where and which direction to go. But I don't know the answer to that myself. I just...do.

Just as I'm passing a fallen tree, something hits me. I first feel a pain on my back. It's like someone threw something at me. I look behind to see nothing. Then I look at the ground.
The rock that I was playing with when I fell just standing there. Far away from where it's supposed to be.

I know it's the same rock because it looks different than any other rock I've seen. It has green crystals at the front of it and there's a white mark on the back of it that says W. It looks like it was written with chalk.

But...who threw it?