Mystery Of Witches Blood Wood

September 2, 2011
By angelblckt SILVER, Port St Lucie, Florida
angelblckt SILVER, Port St Lucie, Florida
6 articles 4 photos 1 comment

Favorite Quote:
anything worth doing, is worth doing right!

Darkness filled the sky as the sun went down, the ground glowing crimson under us. As we walked through the dark woods, owls and bats seemed to circle us like a warning sign saying to go back. Unknown then, we had wandered into, what was known as, Witches Blood Wood. Said to be haunted by the witch that was burned, it was rumored that she was a saint who had godly powers but was mistaken as evil. But after our encounter, we were sure they were wrong. A devil worshiper, or the devil herself. I left the woods alone that day cut, in shock, and nearly bleeding to death. That was four years ago, and I will never go near the woods ever again. My name is Samantha, and this is my horror story.

“Hurry up, Susan,” I yowled. “I'm coming, it's hard to climb up this hill. . . . it's too steep,” Susan halliard back. After 15 minutes, we reached the top. We were breathless. Catching our breath, we spotted a tree with rosy colored bark. It was very odd, and looked like no other tree I'd seen before. Had we looked up, we would have noticed the chard body of a boy, no older than fourteen.

As we continued on a brisk wind slammed into us. The sky above us was black now. “Let's go back” Susan whispered fearfully. “Okay, but which way is back?” We circled around, passing the same things over and over again. Lost in the dark. We chose a simple direction and started walking. Seeming like hours when we finally came to a small cabin. It looked normal. But one thing, the cellar door! It hung on by one henge and had red, thick, blood stains on it. We knocked on the front door and a young woman answered our calls. She had jet black hair, light yellow, cat like eyes, and bright red lips. She wore an old, dark purple gown, and her skin was white as late winter snow. Suddenly a pale, foggy mist erupted like dynamite from the doorway. We passed out. Flopped to the ground with a thud, like a bullet had shot through us.

When I woke up later that long night, my head and legs were strapped to a chair, a sharp pain exploding from my wrists. After a few moments my head unfolded and I glanced down to the source of my pain. I saw raw blood oozing from a puncture wound caused by a nail hammered through through my violet vain. Susan, across the room and in the same position, was just waking up. “Don't look at your wrist” I whispered, knowingly, for if she did she would faint. “Why? Where are we?” I searched the room until my eyes set upon a spiral staircase. Following it up I saw the small cellar door. “We're in the cellar.” Suddenly the door slammed open and we fell silent as the woman walked in. she was beautiful in the dim moonlight that leaked in through a small barred window. “Hello, and welcome to my home,” she said in a crisp, cold voice that made my body quiver and shake. We were still quite, my head buzzing with thoughts, and questions seeking for answers.

She seemed to float on air. Gracefully tiptoed toward us when she cut short and changed direction toward a small closet door nearly 10 feet away. When she opened it I caught a glimpse of a variety of tools. From knives, to saws. Most coverd in dried brown blood stains. When she emerged she wore a white coat. It was coverd in small speckles of brown spots as well. In one hand she held a small glass vial. In the other. In the other, a hammer. “My name is Patience, surely you hard of me,” she added. “The witch who haunts these woods.”

The buzzing stopped, and was replaced with realization and my eyes closed. Her foot steps stopped in front of me and my eyes shot open. She slipped the nail pinning down my right wrist between the hinges in the hammer. Pulling as the nail popped out and blood came gushing out and I screamed in an agonizing pain. She placed the vial under the arm of my chair as a waterfall of crimson poured hot and thick. Repeating it again to my left. I was dazed from losing so much blood, and as I slipped into unconsciousness I heard Susan scream.

When I came through again I'd stopped bleeding and a hard, black crust coverd the puncture. I noticed that Susan was gone right away and under the chair was a large pond of blood. I was frightened for the first time. My best friend was missing! A scream split the air. My thought reached out to Susan being tortured as I sat their motionless. Thin I realized . . . my hands ARE free. I tried to move them, it hurt, but they moved. Carefully, I untied my head strap, feeling as though my hands were broke in two. Soon I was peeling the strap away from my skin, pulling at the hair that had been fastened in as well. I stretched my neck for a moment. Then, I began working on my ankle strap. It was around my sock so it had not pulled my skin, the only pain was in my wrists. I got up and walked to one of the many side doors. All were locked, except one door at the far side of the room. As I twisted the handle, I heard a loud click. The door make a loud high pitched squawk as I opened it a crack. I peered inside. Patience was pouring a vial of blood into a large cooking pot. As the first vial boiled I noticed Susan screaming in pain. Then Patience put a drop of pale, frozen, white liquid into it, an I watched as Susan dropped to the floor, dead. The room was silent once more. Then she poured another vial of blood in and my body began to falter, and pain made me drop to the ground. Then I knew, she was doing witchcraft. Before she could finish pouring the blood, I used all of my strength to stand up. Silently I limped over to her and as I grew closer, she picked up the small bottle of white liquid. She plucked off the lid. As she went to pour it I flopped on her. She had hit her head on the floor and was knocked out. I got up and poured out the blood in a nearby sink. The pain immediately stopped. “RUN” I thought. As I walked to the door I spotted the small bottle of white liquid. I picked it up and flung it to the floor. A puff of smoke arose and growled at me. It was in the shape of a skull. I ran and flung myself out of the door. I bolted up the stairs and jumped out the cellar door, and I tripped. My knee was badly scraped and was bleeding. I knew this but I didn't care, I just picked myself up and bolted forward again. I didn't know where I was going, I just hoped I was running in the direction of home. “Come back” Patience called to me. Her voice was everywhere. I just ran even faster. I saw the rosy tree. The sun was rising now. “Samantha, come back, I won't hurt you” this time it came from behind me. I turned around, but kept moving. I saw nothing. I ran into a bush. I fell backwards and looked up. Susan's burnt body coverd a bloody tree. “Go back,” she said. “ It only hurt's a lot, you wouldn't leave your best friend out here alone.” I screamed. I scrambled to my feat to run some more. Finally, I raced down the hill to stop in the middle of the road. I ran, I ran home. My mother raced out the door to hold me in her arms. She seemed to quiver beside me as well. “What happened? Where's Susan? Where were you?” All these questions exploded in a tangle out of her mouth. So I told her the story. The horror story.

The author's comments:
I don't know what made me write this peace. It's just, a call that tells me what to write. It's like I'm living what I'm writing. Like my life is what I write.

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This article has 1 comment.

rose said...
on Sep. 30 2011 at 11:39 am

wasup homey biscit yo storie is off the chain u no i am  loven it



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