Nyctophilia

Chapter 1

Billy

He was always there.

Always at the back of my mind.

Watching me from the corner of my eye

Or was I watching him?

But truth was he wasn't really there

At least I don't really know anymore

Philip always told me not to muck around telling stupid lies just to scare him, ricky didn't say anything. Well she never did.

Anyway today was quiet. Not that anything does happen in sherwood creek though.

It's been 7 years since the homicide

Disappearing into the mist of the wood with a body and reappearing with none, that's what he does.

Gathering the dead in his boney arms and laying them to rest in the forest.

I swear that I would never follow him, look where he takes them, for what secrets it hides is to much for the human mind.

But I, well, I am no human

I was captured by hell, not just me, but many others, our sins proved our worth to the devil, and so they experimented on us, their madness impacted the tests in ways only evil could.

My slyness bought me freedom in the end, and ending up in this remote town

Little I knew that he had followed me 'death' some call him

Unable to call upon my aliles, I have been fighting him ever since

At the time, I didn't know how much danger I put my friends in.

Ricky

Stumbling through the forest, flashbacks flood through my mind.

Something about it lures me in.

Its scent is familiar in some way.

I light a cigarette and start smoking. It calms me

But something is not right.

A missing piece that I just can't figure out.

Suddenly I see my life flash before my eyes, but too quick to get a sense of any of it

I get dizzy and before I know it,

I collapse

I get up quickly, brushing off all of the dirt off my ripped clothes.

My memories of that moment disappear and I find myself walking back home.

My anxiety has been getting worse over the years.

Billy and Phillip keep on pushing me to get help. But no one understands.

Recently my urges to go to the forest has come back.

Last time I went to the forest, these weird thoughts came to my mind.

About my mother, but she was just a dark figure in the shadows.

I never really knew of her. No one ever talked of her.

My father is never home either, so really I am always alone.

Phillip is making me go to parties, talk to boys.

He never really understands my anxiety, does he?

Billie, always goes on about spirits and shit.

Maybe she can help me find my mother. Or maybe I don't really want to know.

This afternoon I'm going to the forest.

Alone.

Philip

I guess everyone has a dark side. 

The one which is always hidden behind the curtains.

 Telling you things that make your hands tremble and your forehead sweaty.

 Conscious of everybody watching you, what they might think, who they think you are. 

Only the eyes will tell the truth, for they hide secrets that would make anybody look at you differently than they did before. I am afraid of that.

The classroom I sat in was sweltering hot, making the sweat from my te- shirt run down my back.

The old broken fan at the back of the classroom sat thrumming a rhythm. I put my head in my hands and tapped my foot, staring at the questions in front of me. 

Most of the class around me were doing the same giving each other looks of confusion. I knew nearly everything about them, the memories we had all shared, we had all grown up together.

 Well, there was only 20 of us in 11th grade in Sherwood high school. Sherwood Creek was a small town on the outskirts of Texas once you move here most never moved out and that's not because they love it. 

Most here are poor, barely any jobs around but the houses are cheap and that's what drives the buyers coming from cities. But slowly as you stay here your money seems to disappear before your eyes and you're stuck in the same old house you bought ten years ago. 

From the outside, Sherwood creek seemed like a little quiet town, with few families and a perfect retirement environment.

Little did they know.

I lived on the edge of Sherwood Forest, in the looming manor which had stood in the town for nearly 100 years, scaring the children away at Halloween for as long as I can remember.

Not that I care.

If I looked out the window I could see the end of the garden leading up to the trees of the forest. The people in the retirement home had told me and my sister stories of what happened in those wood when we were young and visiting our grandma.

My grandmother, who had lived here all her life, like most of my family. Had told me that bad things come from the forest which she said was full of bad spirits. Sometimes when she talked about it she would scream and her eyes would go wide with telling the stories that made my little sister scared to go home. She called the forest andeskog.

That was before she died