Westerfield: Chapter 3

Naturally, his caution of the woods made me even more curious about them. I suddenly had a very strong urge to find out the nature of the 'evils of the night' I was to avoid.
I have lived here for about a year now and there exists a very strong sense of being watched at night by something in those woods. They surround the entire town, and whenever I go outside, I feel as though I am watched by unseen eyes...eyes that lie on the other side of the dense fog that rolls off the swamps. The fog hides things...and the feeling in the pit of my stomach tells me those things are evil...and filled with hatred and malice. The hair on the back of my neck stands up whenever I gaze at the fog rolling out from under the branches of the cypress. The deep woods border even Samuel’s property, where rows upon rows of cypress trees extend for hundreds of miles. Each tree is so much alike with the ancient, gnarled branches; reaching out as if they were trying to pull at a person...they give off bad vibes to me.

The woods set my levels of unease at dangerous heights. Every time the forbidding silence of the night falls over the town my fear increases immensely. The only sound that cuts through the silence is the creaking of the cypress as the gnarled branches sway in the night air. With such a spooky setting, I believe it is only natural for my fear to motivate me to abide by the curfew. If it were not for that fear, I would break the law.

I am by far more of a night owl then a sparrow, so for me the best time of day is the night. I long for it, and it welcomes me with arms wide open. The night is the only time when my quest for solitary moments can be fulfilled. The house at night reminds me too much of a cage...the pale colors on the wall being washed out by the moonlight, back when I was more brave...or maybe I was simply oblivious to the evil...yes that is it...I traveled in the darkness. I shrugged of my unease and walked in the silence of the night. I used those walks, in which the only sounds besides the creaking of braches came from me, to find my way throughout Westerfield. My nightly strolls acquainted myself with the sights around town, and each night upon my return to Samuel's home, I drew a map of my journey. In my spare daylight hours, I went over the same paths, adding details that I had missed with only the moonlight as my guide.

Every night I ventured in another direction from Samuel's home. I walked steadily thought the forests with a pair of hiking boots tied tightly around my ankles. The fog was thicker in the woods, causing visibility to be terrible on my walks. It seemed to glow where the moonlight hit it. With each step I took, my legs jarred on the hard stones that dotted the otherwise squishy floor of the forest path. I had to be careful and avoid the random areas of swamp, simply for my own safety. If the swamps lured me into their shadowy vices, there would be no one to save me. The moonlight that reached the foggy forest path was, at best, sparse. The tall trees kept most light away from the ground, and I knew the lack of light made the danger far greater for me.

If I became ensnared by the swamp, stuck in the murky silt on one of my walks, Samuel would be left alone again. The town would not search for me. They only search for family members in the swamps. Since moving here I have been a part of a few searches, unfortunately those who had become lost remained that way. They are called the lost citizens of Westerfield. The searches were for a few members of the old families that had returned to the town after a few generations. They did not heed their grandparent's warnings about the evil here in Westerfield, an evil that still holds the townsfolk in its fearful grasp.

It was a simple enough story, one that spanned back to the foundation of Westerfield...and its founder. At first, I did not pay it much mind and continued my walks during the night. I moved in secret and I did not care much about some old dead man who lived a long time ago in Westerfield. 

The End

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