Into the Woods

Chapter 1

Into the Woods

Chapter 1

10 years ago, my parents died from murder by the band of hunters called "Silver Blade". Of course, their preferred weapon was a silver knife dipped in a wolfsbane solution. It was how they killed my mother. My father was too skilled with hand-in-hand knife combat, so they tore out his heart while another fighter was keeping him occupied. The next day, the woman who had saved from seeing the terror of killing a human being brought me to my mother's sister's house. That's when my life was ruined.

At first, my Aunt Clara seemed kind and caring. But when the social worker left, she turned into a demon. Instead of being treated like her niece, I was a slave. I milked the cows, fed the pigs, and mucked out the stalls. Once I was done with the animals, I had to sweep the house, and clean every 27 rooms. My bratty cousins would always try to make my life even more miserable than it was and spill and break things while blaming them on me. Every week, I would always get at least 4 beatings. Usually, I had 15 lashes for everything I missed and did wrong. For example, if I didn't have time to wipe the doorknobs, dust the picture frames, and fluff the pillows, I would get 45 lashes on my back. With the metal part of the belt. Because of that, I have deep scars all over my back and I was permanently stiff and jerky with my movements.

I was an outcast, living in Illinois with Mistress Clara, as she forced me to call her. I turn 18 tomorrow. My twin cousins, Nellie and Diane, turned 24 two months ago. They both got married at age 19. I could see why they were so easily noticed. Both had beautiful golden locks, trimmed and pressed neatly so their hair seemed elegant. They were both tall, and had perfect tans. I, on the other hand, had wild, long, wavy brown hair and big, green eyes. I was short at 5'4'', and my bosom wasn't nearly as large. It wasn't fair. Almost no boys paid attention to me, and when they did, it was to sympathize with me of the deaths of my parents. I was completely ignored at the place I called "home", unless it was to yell or make fun of my appearance. I was sick of everything that came at me. I made the decision 3 weeks ago. On the anniversary of my dead parents, I would escape this hell-hole and make a living out of what I have.

The one thing that Aunt Clara, Nellie, and Diane would give me was privacy when I was grieving over my parents. It was the only I appreciated them for. I had packed what I had, which wasn't much: only a few t-shirts, sweatpants, leggings, my battered converse, a sweatshirt, and an old teddy bear that was clearly falling apart at the seams. It was all I had left of my parents.

With my bags in my hand, I climbed out the window of the basement and ran towards the woods. But before I could get very far, an old lady appeared out of the looming trees.

"My dear, what are you doing out so late?" she wheezed, obviously tired from her trip through the dark forest.

"Oh, I'm just going for a walk. Is there anything I could help you with?" I say, my passionate side coming out of me. It was a reflex, after helping the homeless in town.

"Yes, if you don't mind. My basket is getting a little too heavy for me to carry..."

"I don't mind at all. Here let me." I take the large woven basket away from her scrawny arms, and walk beside her on the worn path. As we found our way through the darkness and into her small cottage, the old lady seemed nervous.