Story 1 - Don't go there
I was laying on the bark ground in a fetal position trying to embrace warmth in the frigid temperature, slowly succumbing to me as I yield despondency the longer I settle in this place.
I sat up shivering, wiping sleep off my eyes, stood up, looking around my surroundings, I was in a forest. The trees were massive and leaf-less, the air was thick with an unsettling silence, the short grass was at my equaled height.
‘Hello?!’ I called out, as I looked worried from thinking of not getting out of this place in time. In fact, I don’t want to know what happens if I don’t.
‘Help!’ Yelled a boy’s light shaky voice coming further in the eerie depths of the immense boreal forest. What’s a child doing here alone? I thought.
I ran in the depths of the woods seeking for that boy that called . . . ‘Are you okay?’ I asked, he was roughly my size, wearing a white T-shirt, jeans, his brown hair swooped over to the left side of his face. ‘I saw something,’ he says in a shuddering voice. ‘Saw what?’ I asked.
The boy pointed down in the forest behind him. I took a step forward to where he pointed to, but then he said, ‘Don’t go there.’ ‘why?’ I asked curiously. ‘It is there,’ ‘What? Who?’ ‘It,’ he said slowly and intensely.
Even the way he said it gave me goosebumps, it first started from my neck, trickling down my back slowly, then he walked past me. I’d turned around, he was sauntering his way into the woods.
It seemed like he was extremely affected by what was back there, I thought. I ignored his suggestion, and turned around walking forwards to the area where he pointed.
Why would he even walk away if he needed help? It’s like he possibly just called out help to get my attention for a warning.
As I wandered further into the forest he might have seen the place where it happened. There was a cave, it had spikes hanging on the ceiling.
The darkness looked more eerie than the trees. But then, something came closer and closer; it was a shadow, it began making a transition from the darkness to the light.
It’s a spider, not just a normal spider; it was on the ceiling of the cave, its hair spilling down her white face sinisterly, covering her porcelain white face, a T-shirt with holes in it, looking like she made it to fit her spider-like body and hearing the crackling of her bones stretching. Frozen in fear, couldn’t speak, and fear corrupted my eyes.
I heard the same boy saying, ‘that is it,’ in my head. The spider lady moved her hair off of her face with her slender hands.
Her eyes were massive circles, with a disquiet and massive smile across her face with scalpel-like pointy teeth. That was the last time to hear of the boy and I . . .
