Eerie Night

• Ashlea Salvaggio, Grade 8
• Short Story
• 2013

The snap and crunch of twigs and autumn leaves, crushed under the weight of each of my cautious steps are the only sounds consuming this still, eerie evening. Thick, naked trees with scraggy branches snag on my hoodie as I venture onwards along this winding path. The full moon causes the tree skeletons to cast long, unnerving shadows into the darkness. My curiosity draws me deeper into the thick overgrowth. A light breeze wisps by, lifting the stray, brown hairs off my face, carrying the sweet smell of dewy grass and wood. I cast a suspicious glance upwards to find dark clouds slowly scuttering across the sky and eventually shielding the moon and throwing me into darkness. I instantly become aware of the faint, musky smell of rain and decide I should go with my better instincts and head back before it starts raining cats and dogs. But before I even take one step in the opposite direction, a blood curdling howl shoots up from the distance. Suddenly the scrawny trees are more intimidating, seeming to scowl at me with unblinking eyes. A cold shiver ripples down my spine. My hands are damp with sweat so I clench them into tight fists, attempting to control the persistent fear that’s causing butterflies to go crazy in my stomach. I grasp a knobbly branch determined to restrain my wobbly knees when I hear the creaking of branches behind me. I wait for wind to follow but the air remains as still as the moonlight. I dare a glance over my shoulder to find nothing but the faint silhouettes of thick bush and the occasional tree.
“Helloooo!” I cry, my heart beating so ferociously I’m surprised it hasn’t leapt out of my chest. “Is anybody there?!” When I receive no answer, I hurriedly place one foot after the other in the opposite direction, aiming to get as far away as possible from this dreadful forest, but after only a dozen steps a rough object rips my feet out from beneath me. I scramble into an upright position and find myself gaping at the thick, brown branch wrapped tightly around my ankles. How in the world did a branch get wrapped this tightly around my ankles? I pull madly at the branch, desperately trying, but failing, to get myself untangled. Flakes of bark and dirt, cake underneath my fingernails. All of a sudden, as if sick of me twisting and scratching it, the branch tightens its unearthly grip, and lurches me backwards so that I am lying on my stomach with sticks and rocks protruding into my face. Before I even get time to comprehend what is happening the branch starts dragging me backwards at a rapid pace. I fiercely claw at the ground, thrash around and scream until my voice is only a rasping breath, but the branch continues to drag me closer to the deep, dark, chamber at the bottom of its trunk.