Striga

"Don’t go into the woods, they said. The woods will absorb you until nothing but a shell is left. The evil lives in those woods, pure, primal evil. I wish I had listened to them, but I thought those were just superstitions, creepy tales they tell children so they don’t get lost.  I fell in love with this beautiful boy, Marcus. He was so brave and handsome, yet gentle and thoughtful. My parents didn’t want me to go out with boys, so our relationships were kept secret. To avoid needless attention, he asked if I would go with him for picnic in the middle of the woods, away from all those eyes and whispers. Of course I said yes! After all, he was so strong, he would protect me from anything, even the greatest of evils. We met near the edge of the woods, he brought flowers, and I brought fruits and wine for our picnic.  The sun was shining, the warm wind was blowing, the woods seemed lucid and inviting. He took my hand, and we started walking. We were uttering banalities, discussing weather and gossiping about our common friends. I felt so comfortable and safe by his side, nothing could’ve hurt me. We were so infatuated by each other, we haven’t noticed the weather started changing. The wind became colder and colder, the light – fainter and fainter. It was only after the path we were following suddenly disappeared, that we realized something was wrong. We could no longer see the sky or even the trees, everything was covered in dark, thick mist. We’re lost! How will we be able to find a way in this darkness? Don’t worry, I walk through these woods every week, he said, follow my lead. We were wandering for what seemed like eternity until finally we came across a small hunt, a young beautiful lady sitting on its porch. Quick, come inside, the storm is about to erupt, she said, inviting us in.  The hut was dark and gloomy, and as we turned around, the lady of the house was no longer a lady, but a grey-skinned crone with ravenous grin and long arms that seemed like claws. Marcus screamed and dashed to the exit, hitting me and letting me fall on the floor. Don’t leave me! Oh, let him go, the crone hissed, I prefer the blood of young girls anyway, it makes my skin so soft and smooth. Let him warn the villagers not to go into these woods, oh, but who am I kidding, another week and another couple, eager to hide from unnecessary attention, will be caught in my net, he-he-he. Mom! Dad! I’m so sorry I didn’t listen to you! Marcus, come back and save me! In return, all she could hear was the witch’s loud and hissing breath."