The Curse of Stokely Brook

The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window. A slim silhouette flickered, casting dancing shadows across the green, and the warm scent of incense filled the air.

The cabin was far enough into the woods that it was kept from the curious eyes of the town. However, that didn't stop boisterous feet from wandering into the woods, treading over wild flowers and leaving their unwanted rubbish strewn across the otherwise beautiful landscape.

In the summer of 1998, Henry and his friends had just graduated from High School. 18 years old and not a care in the world, they loaded his dad's truck with cheap beer and vodka and drove into the woods. Despite being warned that the woods were not safe, they knew better. They were young and wanted to celebrate.

They stumbled on a clearing with a babbling brook at the foot of it. Henry didn't know much about camping, but he knew that to be near water was a blessing he shouldn't take for granted. So, they pitched up with their dirty tyre tracks, shrieking voices and loud music. They didn't even see the woman bathing in the stream below.

Henry, the groups self appointed leader cracked open a beer and went to explore. He jumped heavily down the little path to the stream. That's when he saw her. She was beautiful - with long blonde hair that almost glistened in the sun. With her back towards him, he could only make out the faint reflection of her body. He stood staring for a minute or two, with no movement or sound.

His friends soon followed. Voices came from behind him shouting over each other until the words were jumbled into a hazy fog. The woman turned around startled. She disappeared before they reached the brook, but not before she took in Henry's face. Her eyes narrowed on him. He reached his hand behind his neck which was now flushed red as he felt a burning sensation rise up inside of him.

"Nice stream" - His childhood friend Billy Sawyer appeared beside him.

"Yeah."

"Want another?" he asked, nodding towards the drink in Henry's hand.

Henry nodded and walked back towards the camp, looking back with a sinking feeling in his heart. Something felt, wrong. Perhaps he did need another drink after all.

They partied long into the night, dozing off slowly, one by one. Henry however, could not sleep. Every time he thought he had he was greeted with visions of the woman's face, only instead of being the rosy cheeked sight he had seen just hours earlier, it was grey and sunken with a contorted grin.

Early in the morning, when the mist was still thick on the ground, Henry heard something in the distance. He looked around, everyone was fast asleep. Slowly he got up. Taking a deep breath, he stood for a moment before tracing the sound of the melody, careful not to make too much noise with each step.

Down a long winding path, partly obscured by trees lay the cottage. In the window he could see a candle flicker, and the figure of a woman dancing in the window. She was humming a tune which sounded familiar, yet he couldn't quite place it. He drew closer and closer until he found himself gawking through the window, unable to help himself.

She saw him at the window, and with a mischevious grin waved him in. The door creeked open without so much as a push. Henry was a little taken aback, but he wasn't going to refuse the offer. He entered the little cottage, mouth open as if he was thinking of something clever to say.

She was a sight to behold. She looked like a princess with dress forged from gold leaf and long blonde hair that curled down her back. Bare foot she stood in front of him and asked what he was doing so far into the woods.

He mumbled a few lines about his friends and a good time. With a swipe of her arm, Henry was flung into a wooden chair and vines breaking through the ground held him in place. In his disorientated state Henry tried to scream but he could barely manage a wimper - not that anyone would be able to hear him.

"How dare you" she hissed. He hadn't noticed it until this very moment but her tounge was forked like a snakes, and her eyes! They were black with little red slits that seemed to bore into his soul. "You have no right to be here on this sacred gound, and neither do your friends." He gasped as she came close, her long tounge flickering in his ear as she spoke. The scent of the room suddenly shifted. Instead of being sweet like flower blossom, it now radiated decay.

It was said that his screams that morning were enough to wake those in neighbouring villages. Yet, in their drunken slumber, his friends barely noticed he'd been gone.

As he stumbled back to camp, he was covered in cuts and bruises, but that wasn't all. His eyes were now as black as the woman's, with little red slits and a forked tounge.

Only one of his friends, Billy made it back to town that summer.

Billy told the police what had happened, how he had seen his friends murdered infront of him. That their eyes were burnt and bodies deformed by the poison that sprayed off of Henry's tounge. That he just wouldn't stop, despite the pleas. He was possessed by a greater evil than the devil himself, and that when it was just him left, Henry's body floated and his neck broken by an invisible force.

He tried to warn people not to ever venture into that part of the woods again. It was treated as a mass homicide and suicide. Brushed aside as an awful tragic incident that was the result of too much alcohol and illigal substances, Billy was given some special tablets and insitutionalised. Nothing was ever the same again.