The Recluse

The house creaked and moaned from the gusts of wind. The hinges squeaked rapidly as the door rocked back an forth. In the dark and disturbing shadows there was a figure. We had heard of a recluse in these parts and hoped he or she could help us. Carefully, we called out to the figure, begging for shelter from the stormy heavens. The sky was black except for the shining silver moon directly above us. We shivered, pleading for the figure to come into the light. And so it did. With a roar like a lion, the figure raced toward us. The moon shone upon the hideous face of an old woman. her eyes were alight with rage as the wolves howled in the distance. We turned and ran, up the steepening hill and toward the horizon. We ran crying and screaming, praying that the woman would leave us be. Then we stopped. The woods around us were unfamiliar. Pine trees loomed over us and shadows danced across our eyeballs. We shivered as the temperature plummeted. Thunder cracked in our ears and lightning lit up the midnight sky. It had been hours since we had last seen civilization, and now we would forever be swallowed by the trees and the storm.

The old woman sat in her wooden shack and laughed. She laughed as the sun rose and the rain stopped. She laughed for years and years, for no one would ever know about the children lost in the deep dark woods, and no one would ever know what–or who– had really killed them.