THE DARK DARK WOODS by Pat Jerome

In the centre of the dark, dark wood the Trolls circled menacingly around Melinda, the apprentice wichling. It was her first venture into the Magic Wood on her own, and she was lost. Whichever way she turned there was a Troll. Short stubby fmgers reaching out for her, they were closing in. They were going to get her.
Horrible low growling and muttering gradually grew louder, as the Trolls were joined by dark shadows lurking in the undergrowth.
Closer and closer they came, there was no way out. Vine tendrils were starting to snake out and twine about her ankles, she knew that once they got a hold on her they would drag her into the deep dark undergrowth, and that would be that. Many a fleeing criminal, who had thought to make a getaway in the woods, were never ever seen again.
In desperation she decided to beg for mercy, pleading with them that she was alone and lost, and meant them no harm, she had only wandered into the forest to collect some magic mushrooms to make a potion, but to no avail. Still they came, eyes glowed in the dark, green, amber and scarlet, sparking and whirling, all menacingly evil.
A foul stench of rotting eggs stealthy began to ooze from the slimy quagmire patches that hid beneath the undergrowth, where unspeakable things bubbled and squelched and nothing would grow.
It was no use calling for help, the evil in the forestonly let cries of help be heard, if it thought it would it bring more wanders to them, and this one girl would supply them with enough sport for quite a while.
Word swiftly went round the forest, via the grape vine, of the potential diversion shortly to be had.
All the evil beings heard it, and shrieked and moaned with anticipation, The noise was appalling. Melinda was paralysed with fear.
She could not move a muscle, she was, figuratively, rooted to the spot.
Terrified, and weeping, she fell to her knees, and as she did so a whirlwind blasted its way through the treetops, all the old Oak trees of the forest stretched out their branches, and with one voice roared “Touch one hair of her head and there will be a terrible price for you to pay, because she is one of ours.

About highamwriters

A group of recreational creative writers and if you ask us nicely we will let you publish some of our work
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