The village lived in a rational fear of the forest. Or rather the one who lurks it, the predator, the killer, the witch. They didn't know the nature of this being, only that it was an evil, dark force. It had to be, the witch would wreak destruction on their home. In due time.
On a cold, snowy night. A dark force of the forest will destroy this land and its occupants. It will reside behind the trees until she's ready to take revenge on the men who did her wrong. No one of black will be spared.
2000
And the number changed with each day. 1999, 1998, 1997, the innocent villagers cried in horror of this realization. The countdown.
"The witch will kill our descendants in cold blood!"
"Our legacies will have no meaning!"
"This here, it'll all be nothing in a few centuries."
"What can we do?"
Some of course payed no mind to something carved into a 2,000 year old stone. Or a few physics visions. But they were majorly outnumbered. Reason drowned out by hysteria. As the digits became smaller in smaller, more drastic measures were taken to protect the small civilization.
Build a wall! Have guards! Ban the usage of dark arts! Pray for reason from the gods above . . . But what would that do? The forest was massive, anything could be lurking in those woods, laws could be broke, would the gods save them from the fate bestowed upon them?
There were too many variables, truly.
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As the carving in the stone at the head of the village decreased majorly in numbers, terrifying outburst from the village folk became unbearable for the poor mayor. Him and his people could only drown in this prophecy that hung over its people's heads, what held them up, what they revolved around. This village was a puppet to the being, this 'witch' no one knew of really. That kept them alive, only to cut the thread holding them, and let them drown and parish in their own blood.
The numbers were low.
Five years.
The elderly could only wish they wouldn't live to see the day, the adults cursed their misfortune, and the children- Well, there weren't many of those. Some stayed around, out of curiosity really. Perhaps this was nothing but a silly folktale done by ancestors, a superstition, only time could tell. Everyone knew that. So they waited.
A young merchant lived in the village, kind-hearted, successful but lonely. Gentle and caring, a true diamond in this cursed town. Everyone wondered of his cheery smile, some thought he had a special somebody. But there was no woman who hung off his arm or held his hand. At least that no one saw, but the sweet, gentle merchant wasn't around long. He stared off into the trees, eyes looking at something know one else could see. The young merchant was of pure soul, keep him in mind.
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"We must rise up against our destiny!" The mayor declared one day. He stood on a stage, above the stone that signed their fate.
"We will not wait for an inevitable death! I nor my people should stand down to this wicked demon of the wood! I will not surrender to the cruel witch's hand!"
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The Prophecy's Predator | ✓️
Fantasy# 1 in the Spooks :) # 108 in #darkforest _____ The disastrous tale of a distraught village's witch hunt for the being of the forest to supposedly end their lives. If the townspeople never knew the reason for the Prophecy's killing, they knew blood...
