Grimm's Woods

Untitled Part 1

 A solitary man, tall and imposing in his heavy coat, separated from the group and turned to face the others. Their low, murmured conversations and nervous titters faded into silence as he stepped up onto the root of a gnarled, old oak tree. Leaning against the trunk for support, he raised his lantern to survey the faces before him, his eyes glittering in the yellow-orange light. Eighteen, he thought with satisfaction. My biggest tour yet. However, getting a head count wasn't the only thing on the man's agenda. As his gaze landed on a fresh-faced coed, his lips parted in a sneer. Bingo!

Curt Hampton had been a tour guide with Boos in the Burg for only a few months, but in that short time, he had gained a reputation of showing customers "a spooky good time." In addition to possessing a deep, resonant voice and natural storytelling ability, he prided himself on his powers of observation. He had quickly learned that every tour group was made up of three types of people: skeptics, scaredy-cats, and those who were just there for a good time. Those who were in it for fun were usually easy to please; as long as they got a good story, they were happy, and any unexplained noises or shadows they might experience along the way were just an added bonus.

The skeptics were an entirely different story. That lot was difficult, if not impossible, to please. He had learned almost immediately not to tangle with them or to attempt to sway their beliefs; nothing short of a flaming demon from hell would ever penetrate the walls of their cynicism and make them believe in the supernatural. It was best to give polite answers to their questions and to ignore their heckling.

It was the third group that was his bread-and-butter. Curt had built the bulk of his reputation by targeting the scaredy-cats. He had learned to pinpoint the most gullible attendees and play upon their obvious fear of the supernatural. By watching their facial expressions and body language, he could determine how to play upon their fears and phobias until their nervousness spilled over into the rest of the group, making them ripe and ready to be deliciously frightened. Judging by the too-wide eyes and hunched shoulders of the young woman clinging to her boyfriend near the front of the group, he had found his target for this evening's scare.

****

Evelyn Martin pressed closer to her boyfriend Sean, making it nearly impossible for either to walk without stumbling. When some fearsome creature with enormous wings appeared out of the darkness and fluttered past right in front of her face, she let out a loud squeal and jumped back, causing Sean to stagger and drop his flashlight. With a huff, he glared at his girlfriend as he bent down to snatch it up. "Evelyn, would you chill?" he hissed, swatting at the insect that had sought the warmth of his flashlight beam. "It's a freakin' moth, not the Mothman."

"Sorry," Evelyn mumbled as she took a step away from him, embarrassed by the snickers that erupted around them. She couldn't help feeling jittery; for as long as she could remember, she'd heard her grandmother's stories about Grimm's Woods and the things that had happened there—things that still happened there. If she'd known before tonight that Grimm's Woods was on the itinerary, she never would have agreed to this, but it was too late to back out now.

As the group approached the edge of the woods, her eyes darted this way and that, trying to see—but hoping she wouldn't—what it was that had set her teeth on edge and made her insides turn to a quivering mass as soon as the trees had come into view. Was it just her own trepidation, fueled by her grandmother's stories, that was making her tense, or was there indeed something waiting in the woods?

She pressed close to Sean once more, scrunching down into her coat to make herself smaller, less visible to whatever might be lurking deep within the dense copse of trees. Despite keeping herself as close to the center of the group as possible to avoid lagging behind, she still felt exposed and conspicuous, as though someone—or something—had fixed evil eyes on her and was watching, waiting to catch her alone.