xXAliveXx (2014-10-10 02:25:52)

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Once, there was a girl.

She was small, only 6 years old, although she often would brag to her friends she was older. She wasn't innocent, some would say. She threw tempers and screamed and hit her brother, but she swears it was because he hit her first. No, she wasn't innocent, but she wasn't evil, either.

One night, her older brother was angry. The little girl had no idea why, so she pestered him.

"Read me a story!" She would beg.

But her brother would only turn away and mutter that she was too old for stories.

"Please, read me a story?" She asked again, holding up her favorite book.

"You've read that thing a hundred times! You already know how it ends! Why would I read you it again, do you think the story will change?" The brother yelled at her, then turned and sulked some more in his self pity.

It was true; the book the girl loved so much had been read to her for years. The pictures on the cover were faded, the spine had pieces of thread hanging loose, and most of the pages were torn or wrinkled.

The little girl decided that if her big brother was too old for stories, them so was she. She placed the book carefully down, however, hoping someday he wouldn't be too old, and he would read to her again.

"Why don't you tell me a story, instead then?" The little girl asked.

The brother scowled, saying, "why? You've never listened to my stories before."

"Yes I have!" Protested the little girl. She'd often pretend to be bored or uninterested when her brother told stories, but deep down, she absolutely loved them. "I listen to them all the time!"

"Well I'm not in the mood." The brother crossed his arms. It was final; the little girl wouldn't get a story from him.

"Oh, please, big brother? Please please, please?" She asked. Still, her brother sat, immovable. The little girl made a "hmph!" sound, and left.

She returned smiling, saying, "Mommy says you HAVE to tell me a story, or read me my book. She says it's your choice!"

The brother groaned, knowing this was coming. He scowled, then started a story.

It was a story about a man who lived in the woods, who ate children and killed kittens, just for the fun of it. "If an animal were to cross its path," the brother had said, "then the Man in the Woods would tear its head off, and give it to the worms!"

The Man had a large head, full of razor sharp teeth, and he had each one named after which child he had eaten in his past. He never leaves the woods..unless you look at him. He's a pale, purple color, but you wouldn't be able to tell, for he drinks the blood of the baby deer he finds, so that his skin takes on a darker shade of red. The little girl believed all of his to be true, because the brother said it was.

"Stay out of the forest, and you should be safe. Now shove off."The brother ended the story like that and stomped off, leaving the little girl alone and afraid of the slightest of movements in the dark living room.

* * *

Two months had passed since the little girl had heard the story. She had been afraid ever since, although the fear had ebbed away some.

It was at this time her parents decided to go on a camping trip.

She wanted to cry, to beg them not to go, but she knew that her brother would make fun of her. After all, it was just a story. It shouldn't have scared her in the first place. So she sucked it up, packed her things, and left with the family.

The first day, the little girl had so much fun. She fished and cooked and played frisbee; ate hotdogs and s'mores and hamburgers; she went to the playground and made a new friend and then helped set up her tent. The little girl was in heaven.

Until nightfall.

A feeling of dread passed over the girl, fear as cold as ice creeping into her bones. She wanted to beg to sleep with her parents, but her brother...

That night, the little girl tried to sleep...but just as she felt herself drift off, a sound outside her tent woke her. Shivering, she quickly checked that the tent was zipped up all the way. She sat, listening, but no other sounds came.

Again, just as she fell asleep, a sound woke her, causing her to wake and shake fretfully. She looked up...and saw a shadow casted onto her tent by the moonlight.

She screamed, and the shadowy figure grabbed the tent. She stood and ran, her nightgown flowing wildly behind her. She escaped the tent after fumbling with the zipper and went running off into the night. She heard a noise...almost as if someone was calling her name...and she remembered that the Man in the Woods named his teeth after the children he ate.

She kept running, for a long time, her dress dragging on the ground, eventually being caught and torn on the brambles. Shedidt stop until she tripped on a root, her bare feet bloody and raw from the harsh forest floor.

Here, lying on the cold, wet ground, the little girl began to cry.

She didn't back up against a tree and curl up, no, she stood, determined to be brave, but she cried nonetheless, tears spilling down her cheeks and muffled sobs escaping her mouth.

She was lost, she knew. She was badly bruised and cut. Her feet ached and she was cold. She felt utterly and hopelessly alone.

And then, she felt a hand on her shoulder.

She looked, and the hand was a pale purple. Panic rose in her chest, but was quickly put off by how calm this stranger was. To be near him was to forgetlall your fears and worries.

She tried to look up towards the face, but something wouldn't let her. So instead, she focused on the hand. She stood a little straighter as the stranger started to lead her away.

The stranger had long, narrow fingers, of which there were five.

She sniffed and said, "You have...five fingers...like me."

She couldn't look at the stranger's face, but she could tell he had nodded in response.

Aftr about five minutesof walking, the two had found themselves back at the little girl's tent. Her parents were standin outside, shock and worry and fear on thier face. Her brother stood closer to her tent, looking guilty and a little horrified.

Seeing them, the girl broke away from the stranger and ran. Her mother saw her coming, and scooped her into her arms as she ran to her. Thier father focused on her brother, who admitted to standing outside her tent to scare her.

When asked how she found her way back, the little girl looked back to the stranger...but for some reason, couldn't remember how she got back. Did she stumble back onto the campsite? Did she even run as far as she thought she did? Was she just imagining things?

Yeah, that must have been it.

This post has been edited one or more times, the last time was:
2014-10-10 02:26:22

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rememberme (2014-10-10 19:35:51)

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good please read more!

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little5 (2014-10-11 14:20:57)

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This was cute. I love it. +1

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GawdHydra (2014-10-21 04:35:15)

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Ooh! c: +1

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