The Woods

Chapter 9

(Night 3, Victoria)
     I opened the box, expecting blankets, pillows, or even food, but instead found pictures. Why would a squatter bring these in? I reached in and carefully grabbed a picture pulling it out and holding it in the moonlight. A family of three, the parents smiling as they held their child. I pulled another photo and looked at it, smiling to myself. It was a picture of the little girl, except they were older.
     As I reached for the next one I wondered who these belonged to. Was it the family who lived here? How did the box not get burned? The next photo brought another smile to my face. There was an extremely small child and a baby this time. I pulled another photo and my smile faded into a look of confusion. This time the child was missing and it was just the baby.
     I quickly grabbed the next photo, staring at it. It was only of the mom and child. What happened to the other two? What happened here? I tried to come to some conclusion and remembered the gun. Something bad happened here, but what? I stood, replacing the photos in the box. I reached for another box, it was not as severely burned as the others and I figured I could find more information on who had lived here.
     I stopped as my hands felt the burnt cardboard box, a creak from downstairs causing my heart to begin racing. I silently moved behind the wall of boxes and crouched in the darkness, looking through tiny holes made between the boxes. A man carrying a blanket and pillow walked in, looking around carefully before laying the items on the ground.
      He had a ragged look to him. He wore a dirty jacket over his worn t-shirt and jeans and carried a knife in his back pocket. What do I do!? I covered my mouth to keep from breathing loud enough for him to hear. His short brown hair was a mess upon his head, most of it contained under a grey beanie.
     He looked around one last time before laying down in the moonlight and closing his eyes. I was supposed to… my thoughts trailed off as I heard Janet's voice outside, calling my name in the dark. I looked through the burnt walls and noticed she had a flashlight and was holding some kind of food.
      I heard shuffling behind me and turned to see that the squatter was fully awake and was moving downstairs with his knife at the ready. He had a confused look on his face as he descended the stairs. I quickly began to follow him, pulling my gun out of my pocket.
     I stayed close behind him and watched as Janet entered the building, completely unaware. I heard a muffled scream and watched the flashlight fall to the ground. At the sound of the scream I aimed my gun towards him. The moonlight revealed part of him and I aimed at his face, which was close to Janet's, too close.
"Put the knife down."
"No." He said in response.
"Please, just put the knife down and leave, we'll forget you were here."
"No you won't! I-I can't let you leave alive." He tensed up and held the knife against Janet's throat.
"Yes, you can, it's okay."
"No it's not!"
     His yell caught me by surprise and I closed my eyes as my fingers tightened around the trigger, the ring of the gun deafening me. All I could hear was the sound of a body hitting the ground with a thud.
------------------------------------------------------------------
(Day 3-Night 4, Madeline)
     The old woman led me upstairs and into the bathroom, running water in a bath. She then opened the closet and grabbed a rag and sat across from me. She then dipped the rag in the warm water and started to clean the blood off of my arm.
"So how did all this happen?" She asked concerned.
"Some man, my friend, my lifelong friend, he stabbed me on my birthday. I ran and fell off a cliff."
"Oh my!"
"That isn't it. I came across a family and there were body parts in their kitchen."
"Oh dear! You have been through hell."
"I think my arm might be broken."
     I raised my left arm in pain, showing her my arm, which was bruised all up and down it. She touched it and I pulled back in pain. She looked up at me and I reached out again, allowing her to move my hand and arm.
"It's not broken, but it is badly injured."
     She said before gently cleaning it. She nodded as she stood. I watched with thankful eyes as she disappeared out of the room, returning a moment later with clothes. A warm beige sweater and seemingly new jeans as well as a white t-shirt.
"Here you go, you can get cleaned up and get dressed and I'll go make some lunch."
"Thank you."
     I said as I stood and she left the room. I untied my sweater from around my waist and tossed it to the ground. I removed the rest of my clothes with little effort and stepped into the warm water. I lied in the water for a little, which eased my pain.
     I then climbed out and searched the closet for a towel, which I used to quickly dry off, but caused my wound to start bleeding again. I placed my hand over it and slowly pulled on the new jeans. My hand fell on the closet and I pulled it open, my eyes searching for gauze or some other type of bandage I could use. I grabbed a rag and grabbed the gauze before shutting the door.
     Sitting on the toilet I pulled my hand away from the wound, blood beginning to flow out. I ran the rag under extremely hot water and placed it on top of the wound, holding it there tightly before wrapping it with gauze to hold it in place. Afterwards I pulled on the new sweater and wrapped my head.
     Walking out into the hallway made me feel dizzy from the brighter light. The carpeted rug felt nice against my bare feet and the sun filtering in through the windows warmed my back. I made my way to the steps and wandered down into the kitchen, following the sweet smell of pie.
     The old woman pulled the pie out of the stove and placed it on the table next to two bowls of salads. Strawberries were sprinkled in and added color to the otherwise green salad. She welcomed me to sit and I made my way over thanking her as we both sat across from each other.
"So what's your name?"
"My name is Madeline."
"I'm Mary, so tell me, how did you get these wounds, find me?"
"I-It was my birthday. I followed my friend out into the woods, he said he had a surprise for me and I trusted him. Then he stabbed me and I, I ran falling off a cliff and my phone was broken, I came across cannibals, they almost caught me, and I…"
     I found myself reduced to tears at retelling my story. My throat burned and my eyes became red. She reached across the table and took my hand in hers, rubbing her thumb over my knuckles to comfort me.
"It sounds like you've been through hell. You can stay here for as long as you need to. Here, I'll go fix up a room right quick while you finish eating."
     She stood and went upstairs. I quickly finished the salad and looked at the fresh pie, my mind wandering as I pulled it close to me, enjoying the warmth. After a moment I grabbed the fork and began to eat, the warm pieces sliding down my throat. I felt better about my situation and started to feel tired. Mary returned to me with a smile on her face.
"You look tired, if you want to go get some rest, you can stay in the room upstairs and to the left, across from the bathroom."
"Thank you."
     I said as I stood from the table, pushing the old chair in and heading towards the stairs. I made my way into the room, which had a nicely made bed. I sleepily laid down, yawning as I turned onto my side and pulled the covers over me. I needed this. I thought happily before slipping into the darkness of sleep.
     The smell of food filled my nose and sitting up I stretched my arms, yawning. I felt a lot better after sleeping in the bed and not having to worry about someone trying to kill me. I stood up, fixing my clothes before stepping into the hallway.
     The sun had fallen below the horizon and the moonlight shone through the large windows. I pushed my hair back as I eagerly descended the steps. I entered the kitchen to find Mary stirring a pot of stew. The crackle of fire caught my attention and I turned towards the living room watching the flames dance in the fireplace.
     I fell into a trance, staring intently at the fire. A light tap on my shoulder returned me to reality. I turned to face Mary and she gestured to the dining room. My stomach growled and I followed her into the dining room and sat down, waiting patiently for her to pour two bowls of the stew and set them down on the table. She then sat down and handed me a spoon to eat with.
"So, why did they create such evil stories about you?" I asked curiously.
"I have a gift and people mistook it for witchcraft. That's why I moved into the woods, that and what I said before. People are closed minded, they don't accept anything that isn't normal."
     She looked disgusted as she spoke, her voice dropping deeply and creating an angry vibe in the room, causing me to get a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach. She took a deep breath and began to eat the stew she had prepared.
"What gift?"
"I can see the demise of people."
"Really?"
"Well, I can see what their fate will be based on their actions and decisions up to that point."
"Can you see my fate?"
"I'll attempt to read your demise after dinner, but only if you really want to."
"I do."
     I had said the words, I was determined to know how I died, I wanted to see myself rocking back and forth on a porch swing in a cabin, with fields stretching as far as the eye could see, but I had feeling that was not it. I quickly finished my stew and stood, moving to the living room and sitting on the worn, brown couch.
     I heard her move from the table as I stared into the fire again. She sat on the couch next to me, turning to face me, taking my hands in hers. Her head tilted back and she began to hum softly. Her eyes opened quickly accompanied by a sharp gasp of fear. She pulled away from me and stared into my eyes, searching my face for comfort.
"What is it?"
"Your death, it, do you really want to know?"
     She almost begged me not to ask, as if I could fight my curious nature and not know. I sat in thought for a moment, considering how she had reacted, but I wanted to know, I had to.
"I think I want to know."
"I don't want to sound repetitive, but are you sure, I can't guarantee that it is a nice death."
"I want to know."
"Just don't forget that it can be changed, but you have to change."
     I took her hands in mine and stared at her with a soft face, a welcoming face. She sighed as she noticed my persistence. The look of fear was still visible on her face, but another emotion lied underneath. Was it sadness? I was unable to be sure.
"You, you are going to be stabbed, viciously stabbed."