#woods gothic
strange things happen here at night.
our lush forests turn gnarled and decayed, their elderly trunks contorting into terrifying scowls.
the wildflower patches wither and dissipate. their cheerful spots of color alongside our roads transform into a grim reminder that we are not in control of other lives around us. we have yet to find out who the warning is for.
the welcome sign out front casts eerie shadows onto the ground when struck with the sickly headlights of passing vehicles. the beveled lettering that declare our town’s name is more wary than welcoming. perhaps it is a warning. we have yet to know.
the wolves only make their existence known at nightfall, yet never show their faces. the only evidence of them is their haunting howls, leaping and twirling their twisted dance up towards the cold, cold moon.
the corn harbor none at all times, yet glowing eyes stare out from between their stalks. the eyes belong to no one. the eyes belong to everyone. we know nothing. we shall not know anything.
the air is still at night. stiff. uneasy. not even the wind dares to blow. she knows they want silence at night. not even she dares to defy the universe’s unshakable power. the town does not inhale a single breath until the sun peeks out from above the horizon at morning.
roads seem to appear from the ground after sunset. they seem typical to unknowing eyes, but keener ones notice their lack of street signs guarding their entrance. those street signs mean safety. stories circulate through the grapevine about passerby traveling along those roads and never seeing the sun again. we aren’t sure if they’re true. we’re just sure that we don’t know this town as well as we thought we did.
strange things happen here at night.
it is pitch-black. you do not know if the chill is from the breeze rattling through the tree branches above you, or if it is from the cold glimmering of the thousands of stars above your head.
you turn your gaze upwards. countless unanswered questions take form in your head, yet most do not even elicit an answer. the stars seem to hold the secrets to the universe, but will you ever know them?
you do not know now, and you certainly do not know if you ever will.
you return your gaze to the dark forest beyond you.
the stars blink, silent.
she beckons you closer, staying hidden within the thick layer of forest.
she seems to shimmer in and out of existence. her skin seems far too pale to be human. her eyes seem far too bright to be anything but.
you take a step closer.
she grins. she has too many teeth to be human.
the forest seems to chuckle ominously, as if you have made a mistake.
you feel the air grow cold. you feel the hairs on your arms rise up. you begin to panic.
you dare to take a glimpse behind you.
you turn back.
she is right in front of you.
your vision goes dark.
somewhere in the deep crevices of your mind, she giggles.
the cottage in the woods is showing signs of decay. you can hear the wind groaning through the holes in its walls. she is afraid. she does not want you to come any closer. but you are impulsive. you are curious. so curious, in fact, that you find yourself helplessly taking cautious steps towards the front door of the place. the groans grow louder, as if she were warning you to turn back. but it is too late. you are already pushing the door open.
the blood on the wall and the body crumpled on the floor was enough to send you bolting out the door.
so that’s where your cousin went.
