A Shortcut Through The Woods

A Shortcut Through The Woods (300 words)

It was a dark and moody night. Thick, grey clouds covered the moon, and the breeze came sharp and cold, rustling the bushes.

“What was that?” Tim said, pulling up his hood.

“Just the wind,” said Fred, the elder of the two brothers.

“Something’s in the bushes.”

“Don’t be a baby.” Fred lacked patience when it came to Tim’s imagination, which always seemed to go to dark places. “We’re almost home. I know a shortcut through the woods.”

Fred looked brave, standing much taller than Tim in the orange glow of the streetlight. But, try as he might, Tim couldn’t match Fred’s bravery, not tonight.

“Come on,” said Fred. “Hurry up or make your own way home.”

As scared as Tim was of the woods, the thought of being alone was worse. He hurried down the beaten track that cut through the woods, holding close to Fred.

Without streetlight or moonlight, it was almost pitch-black under the canopy of trees. The path became narrow as they made their way deeper through the wood. Branches, like skeleton fingers, snatched at their clothes.

“What was—”

“An owl,” said Fred.

“Oh.”

“What about—”

“A fox.”

Then, all of a sudden, the trees and bushes and all the dark places of the wood shook and shivered and rustled as if the wood itself was snickering with malice.

“And that?”

“Well,” said Fred, “that… Look, let’s just get home — come on.”

The boys broke into a run, and the noise — a swirling, dizzying cacophony — grew louder and more violent around them.

“They’re watching us!” Tim cried.

Just as the woods seemed about to swallow them up, Tim and Fred burst out onto the silent street.

“Watching us?” Fred puffed.

“Little eyes in the bushes,” Tim panted.

“Don’t be silly, that was just—”

“What?” said Tim.