THE SCARY PINE FOREST

THE SCARY PINE FOREST PART 1

Mr. Oliver an Anglo Indian teacher, was returning to his school late one night, on the outskirts of the hill-station of Simla . From before Kipling's time, school had been run on English public school lines; and the boys, most of them were from wealthy Indian families, wore blazers, caps and ties. Life magazine, in a feature on India, has once called it the 'Eaton of the East' Mr Oliver had been teaching in the school for several years.
The Simla bazaars, with cinemas and restaurants, was about three miles away from the schools; and Mr Oliver, a bachelor, usually strolled into the town in the evening, returning after  dark, when he would take a short cut through the pine forest.
When there was a strong wind, the pine trees made sad, eerie sounds that kept most people to the main road. But Mr Oliver was not nervous or imaginative man. He carried a torch and it's gleam--the batteries were running down -- moved fitfully  down the narrow forest path. When it's flickering light fell in the figure of the boy, who was sitting alone on a rock, Mr Oliver stopped. Boys were not supposed to be out after dark.
'What are you doing out here, boy?' Asked Mr Oliver sharply, moving closer so that he could recognize the miscreant. But even as he approached the boy, Mr Oliver sensed that something was wrong. The boy appeared to be crying. His head hung down, he held his face in his hands, and his body shook conclusively. It was strange, soundless weeping, and Mr Oliver felt distinctly uneasy.

'Well, what's the matter?'he asked, his anger giving way to concern. 'What are you crying for?' The boy would not answer or look up. His body continued  to be racked with silent sobbing. Come on, boy, you shouldn't be out here at this hour. Tell me the trouble. Look up !' The boy looked up. He took his hand from his face and looked up at his teacher. The light from Mr Oliver's torch fell on the boy's face--if you could call it a face.
It had no eyes, ears, nose or mouth. It was just a round smooth head with a school cap on top of it! And that's where the story should end. But for Mr Oliver it did not end here.
The torch fell from his trembling hand. He turned and scrambled down the path, running blindly through the trees and calling for help. He was still running towards the school buildings when he saw a lantern swinging in the middle of the path. Mr Oliver stumbled up to the watchman, gasping for breath. 'What is it sahib?' Asked the watchman. 'Has there been an accident? Why are u running?'
'I saw something-something horrible a boy  weeping in the forest and he had no face !'
'No face, sahib?'
'No eyes, nose, mouth nothing!'
'Do you mean he was like this, sahib ?' Asked the watchman, and raised the lamp to his own face. The watchman had no eyes, no ears, no features at all not even an eyebrow! And that's when the wind blew the lamp out.