You should never play in the woods at night.
The woods marked by the willow tree.
Cross the bridge and you will find,
Horrors beyond your wildest dreams.

You should never play in the woods at night. That’s what people tell you. From a young age it’s engrained in your head; the woods are dangerous, the woods are scary. Stay out. What they never tell you is why. Why stay out of the woods at night? That’s when they come alive. The creatures that have been hidden away come out from behind the trees to play. So you don’t listen. At midnight you slip on your sneakers, tip toe your way downstairs, and sneak out. You’re ten years old now, practically an adult; you can make your own decisions.
It’s all fun and games at first. You skip your way through the woods, singing and laughing as the moon lights your way. It’s quiet as you walk, your breath and footsteps the only thing that disturb the silence. Everything is still, on edge. Gleaming black eyes peer at you through the bushes, watching, waiting, listening. You don’t notice. Oblivious to your surroundings you walk further; a gentle cool breeze caresses your face luring you deeper in to the forest. This is the most fun you’ve ever had, the most freedom you’ve ever had, you’re body practically vibrates with excitement.
However, everything comes to an end. The fun stops, the woods grow darker. Trees hang above caging you in. The shadows dance and the wind cackles. You run.
“Faster!” They chant. “Faster, faster, run faster little one!”
“He’s coming.” They whisper. “He’s coming to get you! He wants to play.”
The symphony of the forest begins its performance. Wolves howl and trees sing; the music increases to an impossible speed. It gets louder; the chaotic melody rising to a deafening roar. A nightmare plays out, the woods set the scene, and you, the hero, stand center stage. But be warned, where there’s a hero, there must be a villain. You keep running. The branches claw at your skin slicing it, your blood spills. Roots grasp at your ankles, your sides burn and your legs give out. The ground is cold when you hit it. Laughter echoes through the forest causing fear to pierce deep into your soul. A hand touches your shoulder, its nails dig into your flesh. Glancing up you meet a pair of eyes, eyes milky white, eyes completely devoid of color, filled with torment and hatred. A chill runs up your spin. You know those eyes; they appear in every story, every fairy tale. They haunt every child’s mind.
The stories all differ. Some say he was murderer, killing thousands before he was caught and tortured to death. Some say he was a witch and burned at the stake; his eyes blinded by the flames. Some say he was born like that, and exiled by the people for fear of demon possession, his entire family slaughtered.
Whatever story you were told, whatever tale appears in your nightmares, whatever children’s rhyme echoes in your ear, they all share one warning.
You should never play in the woods at night.