u/SignificantVehicle40

In an old wood, long ago, there was a sequestered house upon a small hill, in which lived a boy with his father. They boy could not have been more then eleven, and he was strong and lively, and felt more so each day.

His father was a careful man who had taught his son to fend for himself in the surrounding woods, which were known to be an unpredictable place, and full of mystery. They rarely ventured throughout except to travel into town to trade with the commonfolk, whom viewed them with a wary curiosity. However the boy was of curious nature, and despite being forbade, was able to conceal his joyful ventures into the deeper wood without his father’s suspicion. He walked farther and farther into the wood each time he left, and gradually mapped his journeys.

It was one such time he came upon a gentle clearing, with clear light and moss underfoot. However, it appeared to have been cleared by no animal, but by purpose. It was confusing, since no other was known to enter his familial surrounds. 

The boy considered the strange place, and wondered why he had not found it before. As he sat upon the moss considering this, he heard a very odd noise; a grating squeak which began as quietly disturbing, but grew to a deafening screech so horrible he could not think or or speak. His legs were numb and seemed to move on their own, as he ran along the exact trail he had come, gripping his trusted knife with shaking hands.

As he came back to his home he entered his father’s workshop and told him had had happened. His Father said “My dear boy, the forest is a very old place, and there is great darkness within it, such that we cannot fathom. You would do best not to disturb it”.

The boy went to sleep and contemplated. Stubborn and of noble spirit as he was, he resolved the next morning to confront this thing that had frightened him so. He returned along the path which he had laid out, and came once more upon the strange clearing. He clutched his knife and sat upon it, awaiting what must come.

Soon enough the same awful sound erupted through the wood, but he had prepared by putting cotton wool in his ears. Trembling, he opened his eyes. He had always considered himself brave, and in this moment felt himself a liar, and as such decided he must look. As he turned he was met with a sight which set needles upon his skin, and turned his limbs to string. A lank grey form of bristles and bulges shuddered before him. Eyes seemed to bulge from its very skin and pulse underneath its lank hair. The boy was overcome yet held close to the purpose which drove him to this place, and walked over to the horrible thing.

As he thrust his knife within its writhing form, the sound stopped with a muffled gasp, yet a clear voice rang out from the dissolving mass: ‘My child, you do not belong here. Why do you come to disturb us”.

In an old wood, long ago, there was a sequestered house upon a small hill, in which lived a boy with his father. They boy could not have been more then eleven, and he was strong and lively, and felt more so each day.

His father was a careful man who had taught his son to fend for himself in the surrounding woods, which were known to be an unpredictable place, and full of mystery. They rarely ventured throughout except to travel into town to trade with the commonfolk, whom viewed them with a wary curiosity. However the boy was of curious nature, and despite being forbade, was able to conceal his joyful ventures into the deeper wood without his father’s suspicion. He walked farther and farther into the wood each time he left, and gradually mapped his journeys.

It was one such time he came upon a gentle clearing, with clear light and moss underfoot. However, it appeared to have been cleared by no animal, but by purpose. It was confusing, since no other was known to enter his familial surrounds. 

The boy considered the strange place, and wondered why he had not found it before. As he sat upon the moss considering this, he heard a very odd noise; a grating squeak which began as quietly disturbing, but grew to a deafening screech so horrible he could not think or or speak. His legs were numb and seemed to move on their own, as he ran along the exact trail he had come, gripping his trusted knife with shaking hands.

As he came back to his home he entered his father’s workshop and told him had had happened. His Father said “My dear boy, the forest is a very old place, and there is great darkness within it, such that we cannot fathom. You would do best not to disturb it”.

The boy went to sleep and contemplated. Stubborn and of noble spirit as he was, he resolved the next morning to confront this thing that had frightened him so. He returned along the path which he had laid out, and came once more upon the strange clearing. He clutched his knife and sat upon it, awaiting what must come.

Soon enough the same awful sound erupted through the wood, but he had prepared by putting cotton wool in his ears. Trembling, he opened his eyes. He had always considered himself brave, and in this moment felt himself a liar, and as such decided he must look. As he turned he was met with a sight which set needles upon his skin, and turned his limbs to string. A lank grey form of bristles and bulges shuddered before him. Eyes seemed to bulge from its very skin and pulse underneath its lank hair. The boy was overcome yet held close to the purpose which drove him to this place, and walked over to the horrible thing.

As he thrust his knife within its writhing form, the sound stopped with a muffled gasp, yet a clear voice rang out from the dissolving mass: ‘My child, you do not belong here. Why do you come to disturb us”.