There are Witches in these Woods

CW: Mild gore

“Come on, Fermin! Keep up!”

The boy stood at the edge of the woods behind the schoolhouse, the only trace of his friend being the last of her voice carrying on the breeze. Tailah had made this sound fun, but staring into the dark underbrush sent shivers down Fermin's spine. His mother would be furious, and she was already angry at them for making a fort in her clean laundry earlier. Tailah's mother would be even more so though if he lost her daughter. He swallowed the lump in his throat and let his fear digest as he hopped over logs, scrambling to catch up.

“Tailah, wait for me!” he called out. Fermin looked up, telling himself it was to see if Tailah had climbed a tree, and not to assure his mounting paranoia that some being was watching and ready to tattle to his mother.

“I found a spot!” An excited shrill called to him, making a little sigh of relief escape his lips. They weren't that deep into the forest, so there was no way they could get lost when they were ready to leave.

He rounded a rock cluster and found Tailah on the other side, her raven black hair already escaping the confines of her tight braid as she spun in a circle. “This is the perfect place,” she said, and he had to agree. The rocks provided shelter from wind, and there were overhanging trees that were almost close enough to grab. He shrugged off his rucksack and pulled out the freshly-washed sheet that had been hanging on the clothesline at home. Tailah grabbed it and got on her tiptoes to toss it over the branches.

She grunted as she took a few shots to get enough sheet across the branch to pull down on the other side, and grinned once she found success. “Any chance you brought the rocks from home, too?”

Fermin shook his head. “No way, I wasn't carrying those. There's rocks in the forest.”

“We could sharpen sticks and stick them through the corners, so we pitch it like a tent.”

He balked, “Are you trying to get me killed by the witches and my mother? She'd eat my head for dinner if we put holes in her sheet.”

Tailah rolled her eyes. “Your mom is nice, she wouldn't kill you, and neither will the witches. That's just a story they tell children to keep them out of the woods.”

They both put their heads down and combed over the clearing, hunting for rocks light enough to lift but sturdy enough to hold open the corners of their fort.

“How do you know?” asked Fermin, squatting to pick up a hefty stone before waddling it to the center of the clearing.

“Because I spend lots of time in the woods.” She pinned a corner with a rock and wiped her hands on the front of her dress, leaving a trail of brown dust. Fermin rolled his eyes. “I do!” she said indignantly. “And I'm going to be a witch one day, and I won't eat children who go in the woods. That sounds gross.”

“Maybe you'll like it when you're an adult.” He turned away to keep hunting. There was no point in telling Tailah she couldn't be a witch. That was an argument that would go in circles nowhere, and in the end they would both feel like Tailah won anyways. She'd been claiming her future occupation since she was three years old, and she wasn't going to stop at eleven.

All the viable rocks seemed to be melded into the cluster that was sheltering their fort, but Fermin found the end of a rotting stump still had enough density to provide security. He yelped when he picked it up, nearly dropping it on his toe. Several ants and a centipede scurried out from the rot and over his arms before getting flung into the air by his vapid hand shaking. He braced himself for Tailah's teasing, but when he looked up, she was nowhere to be seen. It was just as well, the wind sounded like it was laughing at him for her.

“Look what I found!” She came from behind the cluster and Fermin recoiled.

“Why do you have that?” In her hands was the mostly picked-clean skull of a deer, save for a little patch of fur. There was only one antler and a jagged nub where the other one should have been.

She placed it on the corner of the sheet and Fermin resisted the urge to punt the beast into the underbrush. He was ready to tell her to put it back when she turned around, a brilliantly morbid light shining from her smile. “Isn't it cool?”

All his disgust melted into an adoring apathy. “Yeah, kind of, I guess.”

“I'll go get the last thing to hold down the sheet.” She hopped away before poking her head around the rocks. “Don't you dare get rid of Hieronymus!”

“Ugh, Hieronymus?” Fermin nudged the skull with his shoe, his unease growing when left alone with the thing. Thankfully Tailah returned within minutes and placed the last stone.

“There!” she proclaimed, fists on her hips, chest jutted out in pride. “Perfect!”

Fermin nodded but didn't share the sentiment. It looked a little pathetic, a single sheet draped over a dying tree branch, held down by mismatched rocks and a bit of dead animal. “Doesn't it feel disrespectful to use a skull like that?”

Tailah shook her head and grabbed his hand to pull him inside. “Hieronymus likes it. He's our guard.” Fermin didn't reply as he wiped the dirt off of his hands that had transferred from Tailah's. He took off his cardigan and gently laid it out on the ground, trying to make it big enough for both of them to sit on. Tailah sat on the across from him, glancing out at the skull every few minutes with a curiosity that was more intense than Fermin was used to with her.

“Ooh look, a salamander!” she exclaimed, pointing to a lizard darting from the edge of the sheet. Fermin recoiled away from the creature, making Tailah laugh as she reached for it. “Don't be a baby, grab it!” He wanted to do no such thing, and cleared the way for her grasping hands to clamp down on it. It slipped through her fingers, making her grapple for it as it fell, catching it by one of its legs. The rest of the salamander made it to the ground where it wriggled back to the safety of the sheet, its toes still flailing in Tailah's fingers.

Fermin's stomach flipped. “Tailah, that's disgusting! That's cruel!”

“I didn't mean to!” Her voice was defensive, but she held the leg up to her face and watched the electrical impulses fade. Once the leg stilled, she brought it closer to her face to examine the open flesh where it had once been connected to the body.

“You're vile!” Fermin had seen Tailah take interest in gore, but this was a new side of her, showing no remorse for harming an innocent creature. “I'm leaving!”

He got up and grabbed his cardigan before scrambling out of the fort, nearly forgetting his bag. Tailah called after him but he paid no mind to anything she said. He just wanted to get away from her and go home.

He climbed over rocks and logs and roots and stumps, aiming nowhere in particular other than away. Tailah had always been fascinated with the unusual, hence her desire to be a witch, but she slowly morphed into a fanatic, obsessed with the macabre without any of the caring trepidation she once had as a young girl.

Fermin's trip back to the schoolhouse should have taken no more than fifteen minutes, but he was so absorbed in missing the old Tailah and worrying about the inevitable punishment from his mother that he didn't notice time passing at all. It wasn't until he took a tumble over a root that fit his foot perfectly, as if left there as a trap by the forest specifically for him. His palms and knees stung as he pushed himself back up. He looked up and saw the canopy of leaves. Even though the sky wasn't visible, the waning light let him know that he had been trekking for a lot longer than fifteen minutes. The trees were thicker than before, and the din of nature was quieter. The birdsong had faded with the light, and even the wind had given up its teasing laughter for a judgemental silence. It was as if the world was holding its breath, and Fermin felt an immense invisible pressure to join it.

He turned around and tried to follow the way in which he came, but he really hadn't been paying attention to his surroundings before. No matter where he walked, the trees got denser and the underbush got wilder and more unkempt. The canopy swallowed the daylight, making his surroundings reflect a dusk blue. Everything was bathed in horrifying monochrome and casting wicked shadows.

Fermin sped up, paying less mind to his footing. He wasn't going to try to exit the woods near the schoolhouse; he needed out now in any way possible. Dead plant matter kicked up as he shuffled his feet to avoid tripping.

As the light dimmed further, Fermin felt a sense of fear creeping in. It crossed between claustrophobia and the feeling of being watched as if the trees bore a disapproving gaze. His breathing hitched and his limbs flailed in increasing desperation. Tears started to bloom in the corners of his eyes, blurring his vision.

Between the looming darkness and his impaired sight, Fermin was now running blindly. Fear was turning into panic. Branches swiped at his face and arms leaving tiny lacerations on his skin and cardigan. Spider webs caught him as he ran, their inhabitants skittering into his hair and towards his ears.

Out of nowhere a large branch clobbered him in the neck, sending him to the ground in a defeated heap. The boy laid there crumpled and shivering, too panicked to let any tears fall. He needed help.

“Tailah?” he croaked, hoping a miracle would make her hear and come find him. “Tailah!”

A rustle came from the underbrush to his left. He snapped his head around, but it was too dark to make out whatever animal had stirred. It sounded small so he wasn't afraid of getting injured, he just wanted to see another living being again.

It rustled again, and as Fermin stared in that direction, a different rustle came from behind him, then on the other side of him, and then in front of him. Little mounds of leaves shook all around him, the absence of wind hardly curtailing their movement. Fermin's desire for seeing another creature waned as he felt like he was in the center of a pack of wolves, all of whom were ready to tear him limb from limb.

The rustling grew louder and the mounds started to rise. Leaves came together to create shawls for shrouded figures, trembling their ways toward the boy. Crowns of sharpened twigs and vines adorned their blanketed heads. They pointed at Fermin and moaned, closing in on him. He couldn't run, they were flanking him on all sides.

“Tailah!” He screamed, voice ragged with dehydration and fear. “Tailah, help! Tailah!”

Tailah woke with a start, her chest aching for air, her nose flaring as her body fought to take in oxygen.

She'd had the recurring dream of being buried alive since Fermin disappeared five years ago, but this time it felt different. It was like she could hear his voice, calling out like a prayer.

She slipped out of bed to get a glass of water, when a flutter caught her attention by the windowsill. A note was scrawled on water-treated birch.

“Come to the woods.”