a nice warm meal

My grandmother always told me to stay out of the woods in the fall months. Those old wives tales about children wandering into the shadows of the trees to be taken away. I used to heed those warnings when I was younger. We like to pretend children are young and foolish to obey the warnings of the elderly, but there is some part deep inside us that still fears those tales are true. It’s only our arrogance, unearned by time, that forces us onwards.

It was a particularly nice autumn afternoon. I had come up from the city to stay at my grandmother’s house and look after her while I typed up my thesis. It was pleasant and she insisted on cooking for me, so we both looked after each other in a way. The trees were turning scarlet and amber as the grass disappeared under a blanket of crunchy brown leaves. It was too beautiful to ignore and I finally gave in to the urge to walk along the border of the forest.

My grandmother told me to be careful not to stray into the trees and I humored her goodnaturedly. I didn’t plan to truly enter the forest, regardless, but I made sure to detail my planned path. Once she was reassured, I set off on my way. The afternoon breeze was gentle and the air smelled crisp and earthy. It was a truly gorgeous day.

I went in a loop around a small part of the forest. I’d be technically going through a part of the forest to complete the loop, but I’d reassured my grandmother that I’d be walking on the highway and would stay off any forest paths. Most of my walk outside the woods was quite peaceful. At a certain moment, I thought I heard a snap come from somewhere near the trees, but I brushed it off as an animal. The locals were too paranoid to go into the forest.

The problems began as soon as I began my trek through the forest. I swear, I stayed on the highway, but once I entered the forest, I felt this strange sensation. As though millions of invisible eyes were fixed on me beyond the trees. I cast a few paranoid looks about me, but there was nothing there. Only the strangely quiet forest around me.

I did my best to shrug off the disquieting feeling of being watched, but then another snap came from beyond the trees and I made my first mistake. Until then, I’d kept firmly to the tarmac of the highway. The snap though. It freaked me out, I guess. I squinted to peer through the trees and didn’t notice my foot step off the tarmac.

When I straightened to turn back to the highway, my gaze met nothing but more forest. I swear to God, I had just been on the highway, but the road was nowhere to be found. Instead, I was now surrounded by countless trees. The feeling of being watched grew stronger. I was now aware that all these unseen watchers could come out and I’d have nowhere to run.

I took out my phone. No bars. I couldn’t call for help or navigate around these woods. I decided the best idea was to keep walking in the direction I had been going before. I had to reach the end of the forest soon. I began to walk. What felt like hours passed as I kept walking and nothing changed. The clock on my phone never changed. I couldn’t see the sun so I couldn’t be sure if my phone was broken or if time truly was not passing.

Around what felt like the fourth hour of wandering, I came to a small cottage-like building. It looked like an inn, with its faded and illegible sign hanging just above the doorway. Through the grimy windows, I could see blurry forms moving inside. People, maybe. I decided to take my chances, because I wasn’t going to get help any other way.

I knocked on the door. The blurred forms moving inside froze. No one answered. I pushed the door open. The entire inn was empty. The bar counter didn’t have anyone occupying it. I walked inside. There had been people moving in there. I had seen them through the windows. But there was no one in sight. They couldn’t have hidden that quickly.

I called out for someone. Anyone.

“Welcome.”

I spun around. There was a young woman at the bar. I hadn’t heard her come in. There was no door other than the one I’d entered through, so where could she have come from? She looked strange, too. Her skin had a sickly look to it and her mouth stretched into a too wide grin that showed off her yellowish teeth. The whites of her eyes also had a yellowish tinge to them. Her eyelids stretched a bit too wide, so her eyeballs seemed to bulge a little out of her sockets.

“Would you like some dinner?” she asked. Her voice was scratchy, somewhat grating. Like a rusty door hinge.

I told her I was lost and needed directions to get out of the forest.

“Your poor thing,” she crooned. “Have some food.”

She placed a plate of mashed potatoes and sausages on the bar counter. There was no where she could have been keeping that except below the counter. The meal was not appetizing and I wasn’t very hungry, but I needed information, so I sat down and began to eat. 

It wasn’t good. I don’t know how to describe it, except to say the mashed potatoes didn’t taste like food and the meat was probably out of date. As I ate, the woman began to prepare her own food. She pulled out more sausage from below the counter and began to rip off chunks of it with her teeth. The juices dribbled down her chin, but she didn’t seem to care.

“How long are you going to be staying here?” she asked.

I told her that I hoped not for long as I had to get back to my grandmother and at that she perked up.

“What is she like?” she asked.

If small talk is what it took to get information out of her then that’s what I’d do. I described my grandmother to her and she nodded along. As she moved, I noticed how her skin stretched taut across her bones. She was skeletal. Her skin looked wrong. Like it didn’t fit on her bones.

“What do you do for a living?” she asked.

I played along and began to explain that as well when I felt that sensation again. The feeling of being watched. I couldn’t turn and check without looking disturbed so I forced myself to ignore the feeling, even as it grew stronger and stronger. Like more and more people were gathering to watch me silently.

The woman noted how little I’d eaten and I deflected with a question about her business. Where were all the patrons?

She tilted her head and I realized she hadn’t stopped smiling since I’d first seen her. I’m not sure she’d even blinked.

“What size clothing do you wear?” she asked.

It was then that I began to feel a bit unnerved. I told the woman that I didn’t see why this information was pertinent. She stared at me, unblinking, with her smile stretched too wide.

I asked her once more for directions out of the forest, but she didn’t reply. She pushed the mashed potatoes and sausages at me, but I couldn’t eat. The meal tasted bad and I was actually beginning to feel quite sick.

“You’ll need your strength,” she said.

I asked what she meant, but she refused to explain. I told her I was going to go and she pushed the meal at me again. I shook my head. Once my head stopped moving and my gaze refocused, I realized I was alone once more. The woman had disappeared, leaving the mashed potatoes and sausages behind.

I turned to look around me and saw them. Hundreds of people crowded outside the windows, looking in. Their bulging eyes fixed on me as they grinned too widely with yellowish teeth. The skin of their cheeks stretched taut. It was unnerving how little they seemed to suit their appearances, almost like they were wearing costumes instead of their own skin.

I grabbed my bag and dashed out the door. When I glanced back at the inn, there was no one outside the inn and blurry shapes were once more moving behind the dirty glass.

I’ve been running for the past few hours. I can’t escape the feeling of eyes fixed on me, silently watching, waiting. I’m typing this all out on my phone for the police to find someday. Grandma, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to step off the path. I love you. If you see me someday, watching you from the trees, know that is not me. Know I died here in the leaves. They’re watching me. And I’m so scared they’ll come to watch you too.