The Forest Of Death
The cold north wind blew rather hard and a young man walking pulls his jacket tighter around himself. He's heading home for the first time since his fathers death; home to a warm fireplace, home to a warm bath and a hot meal, home to mother- Home to love. Why he had ever left in the first place he had forgotten. He couldn't wait to see his mothers smile and her open arms to receive her own prodigal son. He had only blocks left; but he couldn't wait much longer to be home. He knew a shortcut; he had taken it many times - never at night - but it was the same thing wasn't it?
Just about halfway up the street the young man turned left and entered a dark wood. The path now illuminated only by the moon and the stars, he headed deeper and deeper into this wood. The only sound now to be heard - besides his breathing - was the crumbling of dead leaves under each footstep.
The young man kept straight till he came to an old boulder on which he had once painted his initials in a neon color. He smiled, remembering back to this time - a time when he felt much happier, a time when he felt much safer. He continued now up the path a little ways more, until he spotted yet another of his childhood projects. There, upon a large maple tree sat a raggedy old wooden tree house. He laughed at the sight of it. What fun he had had there; what fun he would have again. He continued along the path. Not much further, he told himself, see there there’s light coming from just beyond the trees ahead. Mother is up. Good. I can’t wait to see her.
Suddenly, a snap of a stick echoed through the night causing an owl, somewhere in the distance, to hoot. "Who’s there?" the young man asked. Glancing around, he saw no one and no one answered. “Who’s there?" he asked again and again, he saw no one and no one answered.
The young man held his breath and strained his ears to hear. At first it seamed as if he had only imagined the sound but then music begin to loft out from the shadows; it started in low and slowly grew higher and higher. It was the eerie note of a violin- almost a harmonious cry. Where was it coming from?
“Alright, stop with the music already, your freaking me out." the young man shouted into the night. The music stop only for a moment, then it was back again; playing louder - eerier than even before.
A voice from nowhere began to say, “Into the forest of death we stroll, one by one we go.” Afraid, the man began to run. Faster and faster he ran away from the music - away from the voice; but the voice was following him and the music played on louder and eerier still. “Sounds of friend’s ahead fall and die, while creatures in the darkness cry: ‘blood is all around us. Death surrounds us.’ We’re all going to die... Into the forest of death we stroll, one by one we go."
“Stop!" the man shouted but the voice did not listen. It kept on chanting.
“Into the forest of death we stroll, one by one we go. Sounds of friends ahead fall and die, while creatures in the darkness cry: ' blood is all around us. Death surrounds us.' we’re all going to die... into the forest of death we stroll, one by one we go.”
A pain unlike any he had ever felt in his life stung his brain. He fell to his knees. He pounded his fist into his head screaming, “Stop! Please, just make it stop!" and then it did.