The Park Woods

The Park Woods-Melissa-Chapter 1

       It took me forever to finally gain the courage to go to it. Heck, it took me forever to muster the courage to even get near it. Although, Henry was persuasive, “It’s only a rumor. The guy was murdered twenty years ago. Spirits don’t stay around that long.” he reassured me again, as we reached the edge of the park woods. I could hear the creek, rustling on the rocks quietly in the background. Staring at my yellow rain boots, I thought of what could be in the woods. Ghosts. Raccoons. Bears. Bear-coons.

     “Melissa?” Henry questioned, snapping me back into reality. Henry and I go way back. One day in mid-October when I was maybe ten, I got chased by a dog. It was one of those yippy, if-you -look-em’-in-the-eye-they’ll-attack Pomeranians. I’d made that mistake. Next thing I know I’m being chased. It sent my brown hair sailing behind me as I fled. I ran for what felt like miles when, suddenly I heard a boy’s voice behind me say “Treat! Here boy!” The dog stopped, and stupidly, so did I. The dog ran to eleven year old Henry Jacobs, ate the treat out of his hand, and ran home, as if I no longer exsisted. Henry’s green eyes landed on me.

      “You Okay?” I’ve always liked his eyes, though nothing romantic ever happened between us. We aren’t like that, but they’re the perfect shade of emerald, and complement his curly, sandy blonde hair. Anyway, I was panting, the dog had chased me for several blocks; I had taken the long way to Henry’s. After I caught me breath I said was fine. He offered to get me a glass of water, and we started talking. We both liked the bands Green Day, and Owl City. We hated the noise people make when they scratch themselves. We loved going into different forests around town. Also, we had a crippling fear of deep water, keeping us away from large ponds, and deeper than 6ft pools. We instantly clicked, making us best friends ever since.

      “Melissa, you okay?” Henry asked again. I felt his eyes on me.

       “Yeah I, I’m fine” I stammered. It was fall in Indiana, making it rather cool, and the ground covered with arrays of colorful leaves. The trees around us, being either naked or brown leafed, made the situation scarier. The stories that people tell about the woods are terrifying. People would come running out of the woods screaming, because they heard murderous laughter, screams, and gun shots. Even people who went in and didn’t return for days, weeks even. When and if they returned, they never were the same, mocking the murderous laughter and screams they heard.

     Henry walked ahead, into the woods. I followed, with every step a leaf crunched underneath me. Henry’s lanky, taller than normal kids at fifteen, seemed to know exactly what it was doing. Whereas my shorter, thinner, than normal kids at fourteen body, seemed to be stepping on every possible twig. We walked about five minutes. The dense stand of trees thinned out as we reached the slow running creek I’d heard earlier. Henry stopped short.

     “Look, it’s the spot.” Henry whispered, pointing to a small clearing with a tree stump and a rusty, green bike. The Spot is where this crazy man, named Lucas Till murdered his poor brother named Harold Till, with a gun. I don’t want to go into details, but Lucas tricked his brother into going to a secluded spot in the woods, rode Lucas’s bike here, and shot Harold. Lucas afterwards, took his own life, but we have yet to find the gun. People at the park heard the gunshots, but by the time they got there it was too late to help. Thus the mystery of the park woods being haunted started.

 

     I was shaking. No one moved the bike. How could you do that to your own brother? I looked around. I started to feel like someone was watching me. My back started to feel hot, like anyone could grab me. Scared I pleaded to Henry “Can we go now?” I must’ve sounded pathetic because Henry searched my face, and sighed.

     “I suppose” he shrugged. I stared at him for a second. I broke for it. I started sprinting out of the woods, swearing I’d heard a low, deep chuckle. My hair sailing behind me with its red streak, like the day I ran from the Pomeranian. I reached the outside of the woods. Out of breath, I sat down on a mossy rock near the entrance of the forest. Henry arrived seconds later, panting. Henry sat on a log next to me. He smiled, “Didn’t like that much, eh?” I shook my head, still panting. “We don’t have to come back until later.” I felt my eyes get bigger.

      “I don’t want to go back.” 

       “Oh come on, Melissa. We didn’t see anything. We only have to go back once.” He made a sad face. He looked like a lost puppy, or a kid who’d just dropped their candy. I caved. It was only once, right?

      “Fine, just once though, right?”

      “Right,” he nodded. Standing up, I brushed off my jeans. Unknowingly, I had kicked up half the mud in the woods onto my jeans while fleeing. My mom would not be happy.

     As Henry and I walked the block back to my house from the park, the feeling I was being watched intensified. I ignored it, but it was that nagging feeling that I couldn’t control what wasabout to happen next.