Creepypastas

Don't Believe In Them

When I was around the age of five, my family moved to a quiet neighborhood in Willmington, Vermont. The neighborhood was composed of a cluster of duplexes and the streets were shaped into three cul-de-sacs with one road that led in and out to the main road. A new elementary school had been built right behind the neighborhood and over the years, it became an attraction for families with children who were looking to rent.

By the time I was eight, the neighborhood which had once been filled with primarily elderly residents was replaced with families with children. As one might imagine, we quickly formed friendships and became a close group of friends. As the youngest of the group, I sometimes easily fell prey to being picked on, but for the most part, we got along well enough.

Most afternoons were spent playing kickball or kick the can. Sometimes the boys would go off on their bikes and play football, leaving the girls to play dolls or less physically aggressive games like four-square. Most times we'd have to go in by the time the street lights turned on, but during the summer we'd often finds ourselves out much later allowing us to play 'man-hunt' or hide and seek. All in all, it was good fun.

It was around the time I was going into third grade that the oldest of the group at the time, David, created a myth about the wooded area behind the elementary school. As I stated before, I was often an easy target for teasing and I was admittedly gullible. So when David told me about this witch that lived in the woods and devoured children, I believed him. As I recall, it wasn't even a well rehearsed story but it was enough of a seed that I confided in others in the group. Eventually, I confided in my parents and came to the rationalization that David had simply pulled a fast one over me, but that wasn't the end of the myth.

Somehow, it took on a life of it's own. There was something fun in pretending that some child-devouring beast lived in the woods. Over time we developed unwritten rules surrounding the woods. For example, if a kickball ended up in the woods, it was gone. If you went anymore than four feet past the initial tree line, she would get you. If you lost a toy or a prized possession in your home, it meant that she was hunting you. And if you saw her, breaking eye-contact would be certain death.

We told ourselves that she lived in a cave deep underground. That her body was twisted and angular, proportions that were disturbing and inhuman. Her skin pale and frail, stretched taut over her bones so that each bone in her body was painfully visible. We told ourselves she walked on all fours and had a mouth full of sharp, jagged teeth. In the day, we imagined her with milky-white eyes that were too sensitive for the daylight. At night, we imagined her with glowing eyes, reflecting light so that they only appeared as two glowing orbs in the dark.

It was fun because we didn't truly believe,or at least we told ourselves we didn't. As with any neighborhood, things changed. Some families moved away only to be replaced with new ones. New kids were subjected to our gruesome urban legend and the cycle continued until the older kids became too old for games.

By the time I was thirteen, my group of neighborhood friends shrunk to six. We didn't get along as well as we used to and it was clear most of us were getting to the age that we'd probably drift apart.. Still, the times we did share together were good. It wouldn't be fair to say we'd forgotten about our urban legend, but rather we didn't need it anymore. The few of us with younger siblings sometimes used it to frighten them, but for the most part, we'd put it behind ourselves.

At least until that night.

It was October and a new round of construction had just started over at the elementary school. Apparently they were going to be creating a sports field and expanding the parking lot which meant cutting down the wooded area behind the school. As one might imagine, we were kind of nostalgic about the woods in our own twisted way.