The Woods

The kids at school had always said that there was something weird in the woods.

Mitchell's family lived next to the woods and he had never noticed anything strange. In the summertime, Mitchell and his father spent many weekends clearing overgrown paths and painting arrows on tree trunks to mark the trails. He loved the woods and spent every moment he could running along the paths, finding frogs, and collecting interesting looking rocks. His bedroom faced the trees, and he fell asleep listening to the crickets every night.

There wasn't anything weird in the woods.

When he got home from school, he tossed his backpack in his room, grabbed an apple, and ran into the woods, as usual. Following the trail, he munched on his snack and listened to the forest sounds. He watched a squirrel run up a pine tree and went over to look up the trunk. He could barely make out the fluffy gray tail amongst the thick pine needles, and set the apple core on a low branch. "Here you go, Squirrel."

Mitchell wondered what the boys on the bus had been going on about. In all the time he had spent in the woods, he had never even seen another person besides his parents. Although there was another house on the other side of the wooded acreage,

Mitchell had never met the owners.

He climbed atop his favorite fallen tree. He had spent an afternoon breaking off tiny branches to clear the perfect spot. Mitchell could sit on the highest point, where it was still partially attached to the thick trunk, and watch the water rippling around the rocks in the pond. There was a hole in the side of the trunk, an area that had rotted away, making a small cavity, just the right size for a boy to hide his treasures. There was a plastic bag tucked inside, and Mitchell pulled it out to make sure no animals or moisture had gotten to the book wrapped inside. The book was untouched and he slipped it back into the niche.

Something brushed against him.

He jerked back and looked at his hand. It was streaked with dirt, but otherwise okay. He shook his head. He must have imagined it. "Those dumb kids on the bus got me all freaked out," he muttered. He'd pulled the bag from the log and replaced it a hundred times or more, and had never before noticed anything strange. Mitchell had even brought a flashlight the day after discovering the hole, and had checked it out thoroughly, like his dad had taught him to do. It was just a cavity caused by nature, a cozy hidey-hole for a chipmunk or a squirrel, but nothing more. He'd kept everything from a pocketknife to a dollar bill tucked inside, wrapped in the plastic bag. "Nothing to be afraid of," he told himself.

But what if there was?

Mitchell remembered what he had heard the boys talking about. How there was something weird in the woods. What if they literally meant "in" the wood? Like... in a tree? A dead tree covered with dead leaves, with a big black hole right in the side? A shiver rippled down his spine and he pulled his hand away from the darkened recess. What had always been interesting and cool was suddenly strange and ominous.

And he was alone out here.

Mitchell glanced around, wondering if his mom would hear him if he yelled for help. What if something happened to him? What if he fell, or if he got lost, or if a decomposing zombie rose from the pond and tried to eat his brains? What if those kids had been telling the truth? What if there really was something weird in the woods?

A twig snapped beneath him and he craned his neck to see. Weeds sprouted upward, thick with leaves, and he couldn't tell if something was down there. He pulled his legs up and swallowed. He felt dizzy. The smell of rotting vegetation threatened to choke him, and he could feel the trees closing in. He shuddered as an overhanging branch seemed to reach out, the gnarled fingers grasping toward him, threatening to snatch him away.

Mitchell heard rustling coming from beneath his perch, and he felt the fine hairs prickle along the back of his neck. Trying to balance himself on the trunk, he leaned down to get a better look underneath. The tall grass moved and Mitchell gasped as a dark form appeared. He shrieked and half fell, half climbed down from the tree. Landing hard on his bottom, he scrambled away.

The raccoon looked as frightened as Mitchell felt. With a hiss, it suddenly darted the other way and into the brush.

The boy sat there, his heart thumping, his blood pounding, and he felt very silly as the world returned back to normal. "Darn raccoon!" he thought. Getting to his feet, he brushed at his jeans and tucked his shirt back in. He had let himself get all worked up over nothing. He looked around. The trees swayed gently in the breeze and he heard the croaking of the frogs that lived around the pond. It was the same woodland area he had always loved.

Those boys on the bus had been trying to scare him, just like they did when they had shoved him into the janitor's closet on his first day of school. He'd show them... he wasn't afraid of anything!

Mitchell scrambled up the tree trunk, settling back into his favorite perch. The hollowed area was still there, and he could still see the edge of the plastic bag he had tucked inside. With a deep breath, he reached down and plucked the parcel out.

Nothing happened.

"Well, now I'm just being stupid." He sat the wrapped book down on the trunk next to the hole and let his hand rest atop it.
He didn't even have time to scream as the blackened appendage emerged from the hole and pulled him down.

The kids at school had always said that there was something weird in the woods.