You wavered, your resolve crumbling like dry leaves beneath your feet. A fist collided with your abdomen, a self-inflicted punishment for your fleeting rationality, and you plunged into the emerald shadows of the forest. One step, two steps—four! A feral grimace twisted your features, a desperate attempt to mimic the ferocity of a bear puffing itself up. Time lost meaning as you sprinted, the world around you blurring into a chaotic swirl.
Fatigue crept in, gnawing at your limbs until they buckled beneath you. Your feet throbbed, the rough skin of your toes protesting with every movement. Breath came in ragged gasps, hot and heavy, as if the very air conspired against you. A dull ache began to throb in your skull, waves of pain crashing against your consciousness. The light around you was blinding, but as the sun dipped below the horizon, the oppressive brightness began to fade. The crimson glow of twilight struggled to penetrate the thick canopy of ancient oaks, but it was a losing battle.
How long had you wandered in this labyrinth of trees? Where were you even headed? You stumbled in circles, disoriented—was it east, west, or perhaps north? The absence of sunlight muddled your sense of direction, leaving you adrift in a sea of uncertainty.
Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, fear and despair coiling tightly around your heart.
Fool!
You were destined to perish in solitude.
Dimwit!
Even your neighbors would remain oblivious to your plight!
Coward!
Was the witch merely a figment of your imagination?
You shook your head violently, desperate to dispel the encroaching darkness, but clarity eluded you. The weight of your thoughts bore down, and you cradled your throbbing head in trembling hands.
Then, a chill crept over you, a touch like ice against your shoulder, fingers gliding down “Little fawn, why do you cry?”
You hesitate, rooted in place, as the shadows stretch and twist around you. What began as a fleeting moment of solitude has morphed into a chilling threat. An unseen weight presses down, a sinister enchantment that reverberates through your skull, drowning out all reason.
Yet, her voice, sweet and sinister, burrows deeper into your mind.
“Mumma can help. But only if you follow…”
Despite every instinct screaming to flee, an insatiable curiosity compels you to turn your head.
And turn.
And turn.
And snap.
The witch’s curse had claimed poor Charlie, his life extinguished in a brutal instant. A broken neck, a silent scream—no hands to save him from the dark embrace of death.
But at least it was swift, wasn’t it?
End of chapter 1. You have died.