Francis started to edge towards the woods, but just before he entered he slowly turned around and looked back at the small village; scanning around he could see smoke billowing out of the chimneys and inviting fires visible through the windows. He was tempted to turn back, but tonight he had plucked up the courage and was out here for a reason, to fulfil his ambition, to enter the woods that he had been scared of all his life. Pausing he thought to himself, why was he doing this? Even though all the children in the village had always talked about how much fun one could have in the clearing situated in the heart of the woods, was it really worth going in for? Yes it was, he thought; he wanted to have fun in the woods with his friends and the best way to do this was to overcome his fear, especially at night to prove there was nothing wrong with the woods and nothing to be afraid of. He would fulfil his ambition by moonlight.
In five steps Francis was into the woods, he could already feel beads of sweat on his forehead. It seemed that it had abruptly become colder than before and he found it hard to breath, it felt like a cold person had a tight grip around him and was squeezing the air out of him. Francis rubbed his body to try and get warm but it had little affect. Francis then decided to try and calm down, he took deep long breaths and before moving onwards he went through the directions to the hill in his head; “Enter the woods by the old signpost and walk fifty paces tile you reach the old oak, then turn left and walk up the track, as easy as that”. He knew the directions off by heart because he had heard them being explained many times before in the village.
As he progressed into the woods the moonlight was diminishing as the moon was only able to break through the dense branches in a few areas. Every step he took, twigs cracked under his feet sounding like whip cracks. Subsequently the wind picked up, making the decaying leaves swirl up around him, like a graceful ballet dancer. Then the trees alongside him began to creak, a slow rhythmic pattern that made him stand bolt upright and he could feel a prickling sensation all over his body as if he was being poked by little pins. Francis was now feeling very uncomfortable and frightened so he quickened his pace of walking to a brisk stride.
Francis had now lost count of his steps but knew the old oak must be near. As he brushed a branch out of his path he saw it; there was a very small clearing and in the middle stood a huge oak tree, it loomed up in front of him, it’s roots looked like a mass of snakes and from the roots sprouted a hefty trunk that, on closer inspection, had something that looked like slashes on it. From the trunk rose long, wide and twisted branches, some shattered and some not, but they all looked sinister and menacing.
Francis was perturbed by this place and decided it would be wise to carry on up the rising track on the left. After a good two minutes he arrived at the top of the hill in the larger clearing. He had fulfilled his ambition; he almost felt as if nothing could scare him now, not even the forest, he could almost have jumped for joy. From the hill he could see his small village, the nearby town and of course the forest he had just conquered. The forest looked very unnatural, daunting, bare and spiky. Francis was just at the point of turning to go home when he heard a sound that made his hair stand on end; a wolf cry pierced the night sky and it didn’t seem that far away. Francis was not terribly comfortable with that sound and decided to start to make his way home swiftly. He started off down the track that he had arrived on. As soon as he had started walking he heard that bloodcurdling cry again, but this time much closer; he quickened his pace to a run, as he ran he could hear his heart beating in his ears. Suddenly he tripped on protruding stone, went flying through the air and landed heavily skidding to a halt and everything went black.
It took him a while to regain consciousness, but when he did his vision was slightly blurred, he had a ringing in his ears and had a splitting headache. He shook his head, which helped by clearing his vision and getting rid of the ringing, but instead of the ringing there was a low breathing. Looking up he expected to see a huge wolf but instead a mass of children and at the front was the child he had seen earlier, now he recognized the child, but surely it couldn’t be, but it was, he had that distinctive mass of tatty black hair, a fur coat and the same thick trousers as him, Francis was looking at himself. The child took a step towards him and Francis then noticed that the child was very pale, like a ghost and when Francis scanned around he noticed that so were the other children, were they ghosts? Francis gulped and spoke to them through a fear that was paralysing him,
“What are you?”
The child let out a laugh that was very flat and dead, then the child pulled a knife from his fur coat. Francis may have fulfilled his ambition but now he had a new one, to live. Scrambling up he tried to run back but collided with the old oak and fell to the floor; the child was now on top of him with the knife above his head, he let out that awful laugh again and just as Francis was about to scream the child dropped the knife on the floor and pulled a wig off his head, which as it brushed passed the child’s face took some white powder with it. The child turned round laughing and all the other children started giggling and mocking Francis. Francis recognised them now, they were all children from the village and had come out here to play a practical joke on him. He got up and walked off leaving the laughter behind him saying to himself in a low whisper,
“ They may mock me now, but they will grow to respect me as I have fulfilled my ambition”.
