I've heard the legend a thousand times. From my grandfather's raspy voice and my childhood friend's giggling laugh, from my chiding mother's disapproving tone and my teacher's monotone preaching. But none of them really believed. It was just an old legend; standing at the edge of the forest and pleading entrance to a wicked demise. Surely, such a thing could not be real. And if it was, who would actually attempt to enter? Personally, I'm the type to say 'Bloody Mary' only once before running from the bathroom, manically switching on lights and running to bed. The scariest movie I've been able to stomach was aimed at twelve-year-olds. 

And yet, somehow, I still found myself standing at the edge of a pine tree forest, a flickering flashlight in my shaking hands. My friend, a stubborn girl of 16, had coerced me to join her in 'validating the legend'. As we had walked to the forest, she had rehearsed dozens of stories telling tales of monsters with sharp claws and fierce roars. As we had approached the looming trees, her voice seemed to grow more and more distant- even though she was walking beside me. I heard the crunch of her combat boots, in fact, it echoed through my ears and I could not hear anything else. My eyes, which had previously been trained at the ground, glanced up at her in confusion. But she was gone.

So, I now sat against an outlying tree, too timid to begin yelling her name but completely terrified of walking home alone. My immediate thought was that she was playing some kind of prank. Surely she would jump up from behind a bush soon, laughing, doubled-over at my shrill scream of terror. But that never came. She never came.

I lost all hope. Dried tears clung to my face, but no new ones would come. I had run out of options, and suddenly the forest looked slightly more welcoming. Maybe if I entered, I could escape the relentless crunching that would not leave my mind. It beckoned me, and for a split second, I justified the idea of entering. Before my mind could catch up with my body, I was standing, clutching my flashlight, shaking. 

"Please let me in. I want to tell you a story."