A Story to Tell in the Forest at Night
I wandered through the woods tonight,
My footsteps soft and fleeting,
With flashlight dim, my soft heartbeat
The only sound repeating
As it echoed through the foliage.
The wind blew cold and low,
And suddenly I felt I should
No longer stay here, but go.
I walked away, much faster now,
Far quicker than I ought –
It seemed that someone in the trees
Was watching me, I thought.
I jogged into the tree line dark,
Now firmly quite insistent
On escaping from that hidden stare,
Those unseen eyes persistent,
When, from the corner of my eye,
I thought I saw the figure
Of a pale man out in the trees
In pitch black suit, but bigger.
I turned my nervous eyes to it.
I wish I hadn't at all.
Rail thin, no face of which to speak,
And standing far too tall.
I felt a crushing sense of doom
As pain bloomed in my head
And it reached for me with many arms,
Filling my heart with dread.
To say that I was terrified
Would be an awful lie –
I ran away in fear for my life.
I was so sure that I'd die.
Why did I ever come out here
To this forest full of dread?
I didn't have to play such games.
I should've stayed home instead.
I ran and ran through endless trees,
The shadows to dark to see –
But still I glimpsed it close behind.
That thing was after me!
I was too scared even to scream.
I didn't dare to look
At it for fear it'd catch me, so
I hid in the brush and shook.
And still I felt it closing in,
Its eyeless gaze still searching.
And I swear that, even as I hid,
I felt it closer lurching.
But it wasn't there when I dared to look.
I'd never felt so alone.
I'd had enough adventure tonight.
I had to get back home.
And so I went back to the trail,
Now at a cautious jog,
So wary of each shadow now,
Each branch and tree and log.
I don't know how I escaped from
That dark, unholy place –
But still I see it, closing in,
That thing without a face,
And still I feel its awful stare.
I'm scared I'm going to die
At the hands of that dark forest being
In blackest suit and tie,
And even still I see it now,
Its gaze never abating.
Beware the forest, for within,
It's watching and it's waiting.