The Shrieking Willows

 

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Chapter 1

    Mary Allen Crow lived in the small town of Green Wood.  Far in the wilderness of the mountains, it was a settlers town that grew from hunting and mining. The population had dwindled from everyone leaving for bigger towns. Nestled far into the forest, the closest road was miles away. Mary had endured a terrible life, filled with poverty and physical abuse from her father. He made her slave all day, while he drank and made leather saddles. Her father had killed all his own horses in a rage, and then cut himself deep. He was a bipolar murderer. One day he just stood up from his chair and killed her siblings with an axe. He was a terrible man, he never knew of love. Her father threw boiling water on her one day and shortly after beating her, hung himself. Her mother never recovered from all the traumas. She grew so desperate and angry she tried to burn the house down with Mary in it.. She hated Mary, she stabbed Mary and forced her into a black sack one night. She beat her so bad Mary barely survived. After days of the beatings Mary killed her own mother and cooked her body in the oven like a pig. She ate her for weeks and danced around with her parts. She tried to be normal and started her life over. She married a man who had great business savvy and with that came much success. The man fathered three children with Mary. He was a good man. One day while out in the field he was taken by some men. He never returned.

 As Mary grew older she  lost all three children. All this after a very arduous trial that had found her guilty of manslaughter for killing a 14 year old boy when she was just a teen herself. It was just a scuffle, but she went overboard and smashed his head with a rock. She wasted away, locked in a small jail for years turning all her anger inward, seeking Satan. Her son John died when he was just a small boy of only six drowning in the nearby swamp. Her second son, Henry made it to twelve, but he was bullied and murdered for wearing strange animal skins. Like an indian medicine man, but much more strange. Not the normal bear hide, or coyote pelt, he would wear goat heads and pig heads. Blood under his fingernails and in his hair. He followed the dark arts same as his mother. Outcast by everyone, People rarely caught glimpses of the family they lived so far out. So when the local bullies chased him into the woods one day, a group of boys killed him and threw him in a gushing creek nearby. No one to see. No one investigated, no one cared.

 She was a disgustingly dirty woman, she gave up on life years ago. Piles of papers on desks from when her life spun out of control. Just sitting year after year, rats and mice everywhere. Dust a half inch thick on every surface. Just a depressed vengeful woman who had withered away from disease and stress mixed with a sprinkle of anger and starvation. She often ate garbage and spoke to the devil in tongues.

 She practiced witchcraft for many years, but never spoke about it in public. Her third boy Arthur, was only a baby when he was taken from Mary. People had reported her for being in the woods late at night, doing strange things and talking in strange voices. When the law heard about her, they moved in quickly. No woman of such filth and poverty who seemed to barely have her wits about her could care for a child. 

Men broke into the house one night, and demanded the child be turned over. The child's pillow smelled of urine, and rat feces could be seen piling up inside the blankets. Never fed, terribly emaciated, Mary didn't care. She didn't cry, she just pretended to go get the baby, and instead ran with him in her arms and threw him through a broken window at the top of the second story.

 Arthur was killed instantly. The men laughed and knocked over her table, spitting on her door on the way out and slamming it. "Dirty old wench! Let's leave this worthless vermin to the wild animals!"

She hated everyone, she wished she could kill them all, and live in these woods alone. She had nothing to lose anymore, she heard voices from demons,and had become quite psychotic as the days wore on. She was ready to die. In fact she was practically begging for it. She had planned to kill her third son already, and leave this terrible life. Yet this made it better, to tease the law. Truth is they didn't even care about this old bothersome woman, they just left this desolate mountain house, and her to die. They didn't care about her or her baby. Civilized folks didn't live like this. She was trash to them. They tore down a small wooden sign that read "Green Wood Road."once they reached the outskirts of the forest So no one would even go this far back into the woods ever again.

Mary's husband died years ago, he was beginning to get wealthy, but missed a very important payment. To the city banker. After he bought a nice 2 story house for his family, he was thrown in a prisoner camp and beaten and starved. The bills piled up and Mary was isolated. Again. She threw rat poison all over the walls and floors so that when the bank came they would have to condemn and tear down this house. She broke windows and even broke walls and stairs. Threw dirt on walls, and cut up and hung animals in rooms.

Mary fought voices in her head everyday. Telling her to eat children, to cook human flesh, and to kill anyone who came near her. She had no medicine, no help, she knew she was turning into something. A murderer. A cannibal. The thrill of killing and the taste of boiled skin became too much to ignore.

One day a boy from a nearby farm came and asked her if she wanted to pay for a hedge trimming, since her plants were all overgrown and dying. She opened the door and as soon as she saw no one was around, she grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him in. She cut his throat instantly. The poor boy was only 10, she quickly stuffed his body into a bag, and threw it on the side of her wagon filled with wood. No one suspected anything. It took days for anyone to even notice the boy had gone missing. 

By then she had dragged him into the forest, and cut him up, separated parts in bags and done rituals with them along side carefully placed candles. If anyone came looking, he would be cooking in a stew of other victims already.

She felt good, killing was always a huge rush. This was her fourth kill, and she wanted to go further and use the boys bones for more worship ceremonies. Even to chew on like a toothpick. She always chewed chicken bones and rat bones, but now she had real child bones. The tastiest.

 She had a strong commanding  voice in her head, always yelling at her and telling her that she was in control, and that she could do all the evil she could handle, and she could get away with it. The voice seemed correct. She killed for years unchecked.

 Soldiers searched for the boy for a week, and when they came to her house, she answered the door gnawing on one of his ears. No one noticed. It just looked like a piece of jerky. 

They didn't even bother with her. they just barged in, and looked around, and left. She laughed, and locked the door again. She began sharpening odd shaped parts of metal, making tools for murder, that simply looked like junk. She was a black widow spider now, eager for her next kill. Ready to trap innocent people in her web of woods. She would put together fake tea parties with dead animals and fill their glasses with snake blood and bile. She ate raw meat and sometimes threw up like an owl, just spitting out bones.

The pastor had asked Mary many times to come to church, but gave up on her. She was rude, and dirty. Just a problem. His life was good, he didn't want any problems. He had afforded himself quite the lavish lifestyle and hated Mary. He was much more important than such an elderly nuisance. He didn't want anyone knowing such an ugly nasty lady was a part of his city. 

He had managed to pull off a business meeting with some very important fellows. He was going to meet with the council for a grand dinner. Possibly get funding for his ideas or just gain support for his own self interests. His niece Beatrice only 5 years old, had been left with him, and she would be in his care for the next 6 days. He had no children but he loved her dearly. She was a happy little girl who always had her dolly. Her dolly had red hair, and her hair was made of horse hair, so it seemed real.The doll had been washed a million times, it went everywhere with her. Sewn together with button eyes, and a yellow dress, she always told the doll how beautiful she was. She named her Beverly. She would say "Bev, one day, I'm going to buy you a horse, and a new brush for your beautiful hair, don't worry." 

Too bad the pastor hadn't promise Beatrice the same protection, he was a terrible parent. He had no practice at this, and just let her wander wherever she wanted. He never knew which room she was in, much less if she was even indoors or outdoors. In all his rushing to get everything perfect for the dinner, he completely forgot she was around. She had wandered out the back door, across a field of lava rocks and onto Mary's property. She walked slowly through the backyard, dancing and spinning while picking flowers and singing.

Mary spotted her out the window, and instantly dropped to the floor. She grabbed a piece of rope, and flew out the side door, she grabbed the girl, and wrapped the rope around her head and mouth so she couldn't speak. The girl struggled and almost dropped her dolly. Mary grabbed more rope, and threw the kid in a wooden barrel, and hoisted a heavy iron anvil on top. She screamed, but you couldn't even hear the tiniest sound coming from this large strong wooden cask, even if you were in the next room. 

The Pastor noticed she was missing, and flew out the door in a panic. He searched high and low, and was furious. He knew his meeting was very important, and told himself he didn't need to alarm anyone, since it was his own fault. He knew he would never hear the end of it, but was more interested in his guests. He promised himself a good effort to look for her after his meal. 

While he sat and ate, his niece was alone in a confined dark cold place alone joined by a cup filled with poison spiders. Poured into the barrel, Mary closed the top and knocked it over and kicked it around to anger the spiders. After she screamed and screamed, Mary removed her. She tied her to a pole, and began stabbing her and biting her. Ripping her flesh and loving her desperate screams. Mary was like a pit bull, with no rules. A sloppy predator that had nothing to interrupt her. After she died hours later, Mary dragged her into the woods. 

The pastor was extremely full from his meal, and drunk his sixth glass of wine. He didn't want to face this problem, he would rather go to bed, but after he escorted the men out to their carriage, he grabbed his tattered brown coat. He headed outside into the dark night. He had a torch, and the fog had gotten thick. He knew she loved the woods. He had a feeling she had wandered into the treeline, and he silently headed deeper and deeper into the dancing shadows.

Drunk and tired, he was ready to give up. Until he heard a sound like a bull grunting. He heard branches breaking nearby. Loud like a machine cracked and splintered strong branches of wood. What he saw made him faint. Mary had ripped off the child's leg, and eaten half of her. When he held his torch up to see better, he saw dolly's yellow hair. His niece was still gripping her, dripping with blood and covered in mud. Mary looked back at him, dolly slipped from her dead fingers into the mud. That's when he felt himself drop to the ground. 

When he awoke, Mary had him trapped. She had thrown him in an old tool shed, and locked an iron hook built into it. Together with a heavy metal bar jammed at an angle. He couldn't get out. He panicked and began crying. It was a long night of screaming and kicking. Crying and spitting.

 In the morning his neighbors searched frantically for him. Mary had wandered back and forth in and out of the woods. He saw an opportunity, so he began screaming at the top of his lungs. He knew she had wandered off .

One sheep herding boy heard him, and instantly reported, described and pointed out Mary. Then brought investigators to her door. They burst in, and turned over everything. Most of the house was already such a mess it was like a hoarder who left everything scattered. The floors were wet and moldy, the furniture broken and plants growing on everything.They found pieces of rats in drawers, bones under the house in a crawlspace from various animals, and satanic symbols carved in the walls and stairs. They waited for her. For thirty-six hours.

She eventually wandered home after a few nights, and they stabbed her with their bayonets, and one stomped on her jaw. They tied her to a stake and left her from sundown to sun up, in the middle of the old road. She hung and spoke words of demon prophecy in a shrill voice. 

When they came to burn her the next day, her eyes had grown black, and large, and she didn't appear alive except for the occasional whimper or jerk. They knew she was alive still. 

They read her sentence to her, and began lighting her on fire. She extended her neck up, and started laughing like she was mad. Her screams terrified the people who had come to watch, and her strength was underestimated. She almost broke loose from thrashing her body around, and yelling out in strange languages at everyone. 

After she was burned to a deformed melting stump, they stopped. They didn't want to burn her all the way. They figured this would be too easy on her soul. She needed to be kept half way between the living and dead, disfigured and tortured. They knew of the killer she had become. The pastor knew she was a satanic witchcraft practicing demon, and he made a box complete with a holy crest to lay her to rest in, and dumped her melting body inside, and threw her in the swamp to be forgotten. 

He prayed, and condemned her to an eternity of Hell and anguish. After he dumped her time went on. He moved out of state forgetting about her, and her rotting box in the putrid mud and moss. No one to take care of her splintering house, it sunk and crumbled as years went by. All the people moved farther East, and these small homesteads were abandoned. As time covered the land in rain and mushrooms and weeds, it just became more and more overgrown. Thick overgrowth like a jungle mixed with the woods. Mary had allowed a demon to enter her body when she was at her lowest, her deal with the devil has left her a festering undead demon. Trapped between the real world and the spirit realm. She not only occupies this area, but is able to fully manifest into her physical body again. Just a ravaged body burned and bleeding she looks very old. Most people who get lost out in the forest think she is a poor woman or a drunk, or a mentally ill vagrant. They pay her no attention. She still lives in her house and everyday plots to kill. She kidnaps any visitors that enter the forest. Animal, person, doesn't matter. She kills and cooks, chants and hides tons of remains. She has done this for years now unchecked.We need a prayer. A prayer that will bring an Angel to shine light through her evil soul, before this evil abomination kills many, many more.

 

 

 

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    The valley was super thick with forest. In silence it sat all day everyday. At the foot of the mountains, this area was remote. Rotting trees and muddy water, it smelled like stagnant bog that had sat for 60 years. Dead plants, animals, and green algae have turned black and grey, the thick woods looks like the darkest forest that time forgot. Any living animal that steps foot in here, gets stuck and dies slowly like a fly caught in a web. The animal screams can be very distressful. Elk, pigs, the occasional cow, birds that landed also just drowned or fell to the mud and began the long torture.

   Late at night there would begin sounds. Wolves stay quiet. They know the smell of the old destroyed house. The old frame barely standing in the mud while the dressers and stairs have moss and mold growing thick and full of maggots and termites. The stench of meat rotting everywhere, the old car body sunk in the swampy mud.  The sounds of children with music boxes mixed with dampened screams of people young and old pierce through the silent darkness. The stones on the walkway are stained with bacteria and look at times as though they are moving in the mud, moving with a strange motion, but when you stare at them they seem motionless. The rotting fence has a ripped old tattered piece of cloth that had chicken bones tied to it, and had oily feathers sewn in that were putrid and brittle.

   In the darkness you could see her hat. If anyone saw her during daylight, she appeared to be a homeless woman searching through garbage, spitting, drooling, cursing as though she were hungry. If anyone spoke to her they quickly regretted the shrill voice and stench that came from her. She seemed to speak in tongues and make unnatural motions with her hands and elbows. Like she was possessed and trying to control it. Her hair had leaves in it, and her broom looked  like the sticks were picked out of a dried bush infested with spiders. Thick webs with dark holes in them, where there was surely huge black widows or wolf spiders waiting inside. It was like she didn't even know and had never even bothered to look down and notice it, for 40 years. People in town would ask about her, and everyone would laugh, and joke how she was some crazy homeless lady that they knew was not really on their list of concerns. If kids ever ran into the woods and came upon her, she hurriedly picked them up, and locked them in an old refrigerator under the crawlspace. Kids and people had gone missing here for years now, folks always heard stories, and just felt sad. They knew they could do nothing. The police had given up, the lady was strange, but too weak and old to be the center of anything. They never even searched way out here, because they knew it was smelly and a waste of time.  It wasn't, the people were there, kept barely alive and chained up or locked in sheds or closets. They knew the thick forest ate up any screams they attempted, and they were far too starving and weak to even try.

Everyone is quiet, maybe grumbling, or coughing like they have a dry itchy cough that persists and goes deep into the lungs. Once in awhile you hear someone crying or trying to throw up. From the main road this place is never visited. The old sign that reads GREEN VALLEY is covered by blackberry bushes, and the fallen trees make the road look out of service. Everyone just drives past, most have even forgotten it's there. 

In the middle of the night when the sounds begin people sit in terror, and try to stay quiet. She grabs people and is actually very strong. After they are almost dead, she covers them with animal blood and drags them on the ground over to her cauldron. People are barely conscious, and before they know it they are surrounded by steam, and the witch's feeble arms and slumping shoulders manage to throw an iron lid on top, usually right when people feel enough heat, to let out a primal charged scream of terror. The lid fits tight, and no sound can come out. They are being cooked alive and not even eaten.             They just rot in this huge iron container day after day, month after month like a gumbo of flesh and hair. When the lid comes off, it's time for the next victim, children or old people who camped here, 16 years ago, it doesn't matter. She grabs you, then grips your arm so hard you feel muscles rip and her nails dig in. Children often plead with her, asking "What have I done?" or "Can we just have one more chance?" They apologize and kick and scream. When she pours the blood on them, they get really freaked out, they know death is coming.

 After bodies are boiled and sometimes sprinkled around like a ritual on the ground, she stands and stares at nothing, sometimes for hours while the sick and crying try their hardest to keep quiet so they aren't picked next. After hours of staring, and drooling, she can be seen scuffling off into the night. She usually comes back with some dead animal under her arm, or even a person chained to her arm. The new people are always the most scared. They realize instantly once they wake up, they are trapped. She talks to them in strange voices, and they just cry and yell. "HELP! Is anyone in these woods?! Come quickly! I'm being hurt!" No one responds. "HELP! HEEEEELP! ANYONE! PLEASE!" It usually lasts a few weeks. Then they give up. The crying and choking usually set in pretty bad by then. People try to reason with her, and try to learn what might get her to listen, but she always ignores them. Sometimes she shakes them violently, or pins them down, and cuts them with old rusty pieces of metal. They usually quiet down after that and just want her to go away. Sometimes she doesn't go away though. She sits with her neck in an awkward position, or her back bent like she's in pain. Just standing there, for hours motionless. Like she's dead. Her eyes are black and large. When she looks at you, you feel like you are in the scariest nightmare you have ever had. You lose your breath, and you see her blurring out in your vision. Sometimes blood can come into your eyes, and you just go back to being quiet. Headaches and stomachs growling, legs kicking around in the mud sometimes from heart attacks or strokes. No one would make sounds on purpose. Anyone who has this figure near them, feels a huge weight in their presence, and feels surrounded by shadow and sorrow. Her hat looks like it never comes off. It's got rips and tears in it from people trying to struggle, but it fits a little big, and always tilts over her face. She doesn't care. Her eyes are usually closed anyways until she moves, then she opens them and they dart back and forth like she is is brimming with energy and thought. Her motions are slow and then sometimes quick and jerky. Like a gorilla having an anxiety attack. She is strong and unpredictable. Sometimes she cracks huge sticks with her hands that would be a challenge for anyone. Campfires never work here, the air is moist, and the damp kindling would never work. She makes a dim green light hang on the ground sometimes. An old lantern, that seems to have a green candle lit in. It barely gives off light and seems to blow out at every wind. Yet there it is again, always lit. In the middle of the night is can be seen only when it's up close to you. Yet if this lantern is close to you, you usually freeze with fear. If she even walks past you, you begin to cry and have deep thoughts of death and human discomfort. Your fingernails hurt and your teeth feel dry, your face is numb and you just stare into the trees. Nobody can stand the sight of her face. Eyes big, and black, her flesh looks rotten and picked at. Her neck looks 200 years old, and her lips are shriveled and cracked. No one dare the chance of locking eyes with her either. If they did, she was soon beside them, hissing, or sucking in air in a shriek that sounded like a Gila monster or a monkey. She cut people with different objects, and would randomly throw parts in her cauldron. Tongues, fingers, ears. Nails, teeth, hair. She chanted and stirred the bubbling gook, then would limp off into the forest again at the most random times. Sometimes she would be gone for days. People would start to think she was gone, and then she would slink back into view down a forest trail, or standing oddly by some stump just outside of the perimeter. 

She was tied up in 1720 after a trial that found her guilty for practicing witchcraft and killing 3 village children. After she was burned at the stake, a pastor threw her body in a wooden coffin with a holy crest inscribed upon the lid. She was thrown in the swamp and forgotten about. One night 70 years later, the wood was so rotted, she pushed her way out and limped over to the rotted house and stayed there ever since. The pastor had died long ago and with him the memory of her even being there. The hands that he touched her body with became green and withered quickly. Everyone said it was gangrene, but in reality it was much worse. 

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Chapter 2

   The valley was super thick with forest. In silence it sat all day everyday. At the foot of the mountains opposite miles of woods, this area was remote. Rotting trees and muddy water soaked ground, it smelled like a stagnant bog that had sat for 60 years. Dead plants, animals, and green algae have turned black and grey, the thick woods look like the darkest forest that time forgot. The outer ring of trees sunbleached from time, it's almost as though everything in this land is old and dead. Any living animal that steps foot in here, gets stuck and dies slowly like a fly caught in a web. Like dinosaurs in tar pits. The animal screams can be very disturbing. Elk, pigs, the occasional cow, birds that landed also just drowned, or fell to the mud with broken wings or legs. Bodies decomposing, sometimes left right out in the open. Human bodies. Picked clean by rodents and wild dogs. Now blackened with mud and shadow, they look like nothing more than piles of sticks. 

   Late at night there would begin sounds. Wolves stay out of this forest. They know the smell of the old destroyed house. The old frame barely standing in the mud while the dressers and stairs have moss and mold growing thick. The wood full of maggots and termites crawling inside and out falling to the floor. The stench of meat rotting everywhere. The sounds of children with music boxes mixed with dampened screams of people young and old pierce through the silent darkness. The stones on the walkway to this old property are stained with time and look black with bacteria. The rotting fence has a black old tattered flannel shirt that has bones tied to it, and has oily feathers sewn in that were putrid and brittle. Beaten down by time and weather.

   In the darkness you could sometimes make out the tattered brim and pointy peak of her hat. It was dark and hid most of her face. If anyone saw her during daylight, she appeared to be a crazy woman rummaging through garbage, spitting, drooling, cursing as though she was a hungry animal. If anyone spoke to her they quickly regretted the shrill voice and stench that came from her. She seemed to speak in weird pitches and make unnatural motions with her hands and elbows. Like she was possessed and trying combat her flailing. Her hair had leaves in it, and her broom looked like the sticks were picked out of a dried thorn bush infested with spiders. Thick webs with dark holes in them, where there was surely huge black widows or wolf spiders burrowing deep inside. It was like she didn't even know, and had never even bothered to look down and notice it for 40 years. People in town would ask about her, and everyone would laugh, and joke how she was some crazy lady that they knew was not really on their list of concerns. If kids ever ran into the woods and came upon her, she hurriedly picked them up, and locked them in old refrigerators in the backyard, or maybe under the crawlspace.

 Kids and people had gone missing here for years now, folks always heard stories, and just felt sad. They knew they could do nothing. The police had given up, the lady was strange, but too weak and old to be the center of any brutal murders. They never even searched way out, because they knew. It was smelly bog after more forest, after more smelly bog and a waste of time.  

It wasn't. The people were there, kept barely alive and chained up or locked in sheds or closets. They knew the thick forest ate up any screams they attempted, and they were far too starving and weak to even try any kind of escape. Most beaten or chained, they didn't talk, they didn't struggle anymore.

Everyone weak, quiet, maybe grumbling, or coughing from a dry itch that persists and goes deep in the lungs. Caused by spores in the air and moldy surfaces everywhere. Once in awhile you hear someone crying or trying to throw up, but other than that they are barely alive.

 From the main road this place is never visited. The old sign is covered by blackberry bushes, and the fallen trees make the road look out of service. Everyone just moves past, most have even forgotten it's there. 

In the middle of the night when the sounds begin people sit in terror, and try to stay quiet. She grabs people and drags them here and there. Her grip is like a chimpanzee or orangutan, very strong. After they are almost dead, she covers them with animal blood and drags them on the ground over to her cauldron. People are barely conscious, and before they know it they are surrounded by fire and steam. Feeling with what nerves are left in their legs, they feel the boiling water burn hotter than anything, as it creeps up their torso until they are submerged. The witch's feeble arms and slumping shoulders throwing an iron lid on top, usually right when people feel enough heat, to let out a primal charged scream of terror. The lid fits tight, and no sound can come out. They are being cooked alive and not even eaten. Just stirred and tasted once every few hours.          

They just rot in this huge iron container day after day, month after month like a gumbo of flesh and hair. When the lid comes off, it's time for the next victim, children or old goats, snakes or deer it doesn't matter. She grabs you, and grips your arm so hard you feel muscles rip and her nails dig in. Children often plead with her, asking "What have I done?" or "Can we just have one more chance?" They apologize and kick and scream. When she throws them in, they get really freaked out, they know death is coming.

 After bodies are boiled and sometimes sprinkled around like a ritual on the ground, she stands and stares at nothing, sometimes for hours while the sick and crying try their hardest to keep quiet so they aren't noticed next. 

After hours of staring, and drooling, she can be seen scuffling off into the night. She usually comes back with some dead animal under her arm, or even a person chained to her broom. Full of thorns and sharp branches. The new people are always the most scared. They realize instantly once they wake up, they are trapped. She talks to them in strange voices, and they just cry and yell. "HELP! Is anyone in these woods?! Come quickly! I'm being hurt!" No one responds. "HELP! HEEEEELP! ANYONE! PLEASE!" It usually lasts a few days. Then they give up. The crying and choking usually set in pretty bad by then. People try to reason with her, and try to learn what might get her to listen, but she always ignores them. Sometimes she shakes them violently, or pins them down, and cuts them with old rusty pieces of steel or iron. They usually quiet down after that and just pray she goes away. Sometimes she doesn't go away though. She sits with her neck in an awkward position, or her back bent like she's in pain. 

Just standing there, for hours motionless. Like she's dead. Her eyes are black and shiny like a beetle. When she looks at you, you feel like you are in the scariest nightmare you have ever had. You lose your breath, and you see her blurring out in your vision. Sometimes blood can drip from your skin for her, or you just go back to being chained. Headaches and stomachs growling, legs kicking around in the mud sometimes from heart attacks or strokes. 

No one would dare make a single sound on purpose. Anyone who has this figure near them, feels a huge weight in their presence, and feels surrounded by shadow and sorrow. Her hat looks like black spiderwebs. It's got rips and tears in it from people trying to struggle, it fits a little big, and always tilts over her face. Her eyes they dart back and forth like she is is brimming with panic and fear. Her motions are slow and then sometimes quick and jerky. Like Jekyll and Hyde. She is strong and unpredictable. Sometimes she cracks huge sticks with her hands that would be a challenge for anyone. She makes a dim green light shine on the ground sometimes. An old lantern, that seems to have a green candle lit inside. It barely gives off light and seems to blow out at every wind. Yet there it is again, always lit. 

In the middle of the night it can be seen only when it's up close.. Yet if this lantern is close to you, you usually freeze with fear. If she even walks past you, you begin to cry and have deep thoughts of death and human suffering. Your fingernails hurt and your teeth feel dry, your face is numb and you just stare into the dark. Nobody can stand the sight of her face. Eyes dead her flesh looks rotten and picked at. Dry and scaly, yet a wet mucus covering small areas. Her neck looks 200 years old, and her lips are shriveled and cracked. No one dare the chance of locking eyes with her. If they did, she was soon beside them, hissing, or sucking in air in a shriek that sounded like a Gila monster or a monkey. She cut people with different objects, and would randomly throw their pieces in her cauldron. 

Tongues, fingers, ears. Nails, teeth, hair. She chanted and stirred the bubbling gook, then would limp off into the forest again at the most random times. Sometimes she would be gone for days. People would start to think she was gone, and then she would slink back into view down a forest trail, or standing oddly by some stump in the brush. Like she was part of the landscape. A mushroom growing on the wet slimy bark of a fallen tree of evil. A demonic evil, that grew through the cracks of darkness and blossomed like a poisonous toad.

 

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