• The trees pour dank shadows over the ground.

    Where am I?

    I sit up. My hands are cold and the ground is wet. What happened? I look around at the menacing shadows of shrubs and other forestry. The forest sounds taunt me as I get up slowly, my teeth chattering.
    "It's so cold." I say to myself, just to be sure I have a voice.
    My only reply comes from the scratching of branches against one another and the rustling of leaves.
    There's no wind.
    I look up to the trees. How can there be movement in the trees without wind?
    "Hello?" I call in the voice of someone who is catching a cold. The leaves rustle more but now I can hear the soft footsteps of something trying very, very hard to be quiet. I stumble over something and end up on my back again. I'm staring up into the trees, trying very hard to see. Trying very hard not to start screaming.
    Is this? What is this? My hand reaches something wet and sticky. Or rather, a puddle of something wet and sticky.
    My head turns.
    And the scream I'd been fighting rips loose with double fury. It scratches at my throat as it pitches and tears my voice. I scramble backwards still screaming at the sight. I can't stop looking, I cannot close my eyes!
    Blood! Blood on my hands, on my fingers! A body! Right there! Right here!
    "Queenie!" I whisper. "Oh God no, Queenie!"
    A child! Long blonde hair that was always so soft now crimson with her own blood. Her small little bird body mangled and torn. Her eyes dangling from their sockets.
    I'm finally able to turn away only to puke in the roots of the tree that held me up.
    I shudder and keep my eyes away from poor Queenie. Marie Mason. My little sister. She was always so lively. Even with such a small body she always had so much energy. Laughter filled her little blue eyes every year of her life. A life which would go on no longer. A life of only eight years.
    What had happened? I was curled into a ball and rocking back and forth. I have to catch who did this. I have to know. I have to tell someone, find someone.
    I rise shakily. Whatever was in the trees before was still there, but it only watched. I could see it. Sort of. Just two glowing eyes. It wasn't that wild cat that had done this, this was done with a knife.
    Tangled strands of blonde hair fall into my face. I push them away and continue walking. But which way do I walk? Oh, God. I'm lost!
    I continued on through the forest in the direction the moss on the trees pointed. It had to end sometime! This was twenty first century England! Forests didn't go on forever anymore! The thing in the trees followed me but didn't do anything else.
    Something shiney? There it was, glinting on the tree. I walked towards it.
    It was a bloody knife! With strands of blonde hair clingling to the mash of gore on the handle. This was what had killed Queenie.
    I felt cold know. Just stiff and hollow. Was this trauma? It was comforting not to feel anything. No horror no pain. Just nothing.
    I took the knife and walked on. New sounds joined the rustling of leaves. This attmept at stealth was much more forced then the sounds of the cat in the tree. This was like, a human.
    I whirled around. Fear had returned! No more hollowness. Not with this monster here, covered in Queenie's blood! Tears dripped down my cheeks.
    "Come, pet." Called the harmonious voice. It had an edge to it. Something almost just barely there. A top hat loomed over the head of this thing that called itself human. This thing in a nice suit that smelled of blood and English tea.
    The hand that held the knife shot out in front of me. Aimed at this hanous being.
    "You, you killed Queenie! It must have been you! You're covered i her blood!" I shouted through my tears.
    "Oh come now, pet." He said. "Don't be so rash." He continued to come closer but his face was always hidden by the shadows. This evil forest was siding with him! This was Hell and Hell was on his side.
    "Get away from me!" I screamed!
    But he didn't. He just came closer, and closer, until he was right next to me.
    And he took my knife away from me.
    And I was dieing.
    Slowly. One small laceration at a time. No matter how many screams erupted from my lungs he continued to slice into me with the same knife that killed my sister.

    "Alice!" Queenie said to me with her little hands on her hips.
    "Are you going to sit there day dreaming all day or are we going to the stream?"
    I smiled and could do nothing more then to follow her into the forest.

    Hey. Do you know where Hell is?