The darkness seemed to engulf me. The sounds of the forest, the shrill cry of a cicada, and the stillness of death all around, made me falter at each step.

I was never the adventuring type. But yes, I liked to travel to new places and so I had agreed to accompany my friends.

Only if I knew then.

At every step, the forest seemed to grow thicker. The fog seemed to strangle me.

Suddenly I heard a rustle behind me.

I immediately flipped around, flashing my torch in that direction.

I could see a rush of fur. A chill ran down my spine.

“W…Who’s there,” I stammered.

No reply.

Cautiously I advanced towards the thicket. Mustering my courage, I peered behind the thick thorns.

Nothing.

But I remembered seeing black furs. Had it been an illusion?

I had read somewhere that a frightened mind sees illusions of the object of their fright.

But I couldn’t wait there forever. I decided to advance.

Gathering my courage, my heart pounding, I moved cautiously.

There was not a soul in sight.
Willow-the-wisps lit up occasionally warning me of dangerous marshes and boggy lands.

I called out for my friends.

No one answered back.

I was feeling defeated after sometime. I had passed the same tree thrice. I was trapped in the death circle of the forest.

Now there was no chance of even me getting out to seek help. I cursed myself for trying to search for them. Instead of bringing expert help.

Once more I looked at my phone. No network!

Suddenly I heard a commotion. It seemed to be coming towards me.

I jumped up, all my senses alert.

“Why dinna you brought her?”

“How the hell can I know? I think girl sleep. These three, too heavy.”

“Girl missing, she ask help. What we gonna do?”

“Catch her, whinna you see.”

Though the two gruff male voices spoke in a crude kind of language, it wasn’t a matter of any doubt that they had my friends and were searching for me.

I quickly hid behind a tree, watching out for them.

One was a tall balding man, dressed in a tweed coat and hat, the other was a short, fat man, who was dressed like a tramp too. Their dresses matched with the little old lady we had met.
They were villagers too.

But what did they want from us?

I squealed on feeling a hand over my mouth. My cries were muffled by the heavy hand.

That person whistled.

Immediately the others appeared from nowhere and surrounded me.

“Gotcha. No run, girl, ” my captor commented.

“Yes, the Goddess will please. The ritual want four,” the fatso remarked.

I didn’t know any route of escape from the danger.

But I wasn’t someone to give up. I bit his hand. He left me with a strangled cry.

Immediately the others pounced on me. I thrashed and struggled, trying to throw a kick or a punch. But I was too weak and they easily had me overpowered.

They bound me securely with nylon ropes. I cried in pain as the cords bit into my flesh. My cries fell on deaf ears.

“Let’s see how much you scream when the divine sword is at your neck,” my captor commented, holding his bleeding finger, grimacing at me.

“What do you mean,” I screamed in spite of my captivity.

“You gal, you willa see a when we take ya,” another of the beasts replied.

“Where are you taking me? What did you do to my friends?”

“You’ll meet them soon,” said the man who seemed the most educated of the three.

I began to hyperventilate. This was wrong. Everything was wrong.

“Stand up,” the fatso barked.
I knew it was useless to argue. So I rose to my feet silently.

“Now,” began the other man, but stopped midway.

His face had turned from glee to fear. He was staring at something behind me.

His companions tried to fathom the cause of the delay.

One look at whatever was behind me, and they froze.

I stood still.

Whatever it was, I knew it would come straight for me. Trying to escape was useless.

The men let out a strangled cry and began backing off. In a jiffy they were gone.

“Whatever you are,” I said to the unknown danger, “Be over with it fast. I don’t want a slow and painful death.”

740 words...
TO be continued...

Thanks Pipigrin for being a constant companion.