The forest is a place of freedom, and yet a prison at the same time. The eyes above stare into you, they eyes are what every man fears, the fear with which children scream, the trembling of the strongest feeds them.
In recent years, a rural mountain area in North Alabama has experienced the fear of the eyes. In this time, a deep shadow fell upon the mountain woods. Near a place known as Hellsgate –possibly from where the eyes emitted- this demon has taken hold. In this neighborhood, not a bird sings, not animals dare rustle the leaves. It is private property; it does have signs to keep out (like they need to tell people). Anyone who approaches the area is gripped with a hideous, primal fear, like the fear of death itself.
Every moment one spends there is a moment closer to death. Those who choose to exist there are long past it. Those clad in flannel and denim with eyes of the devil. Now, they don’t take kindly to strangers. They won’t attack; they’re beyond the ability for that. A simple stare from the people is more than enough, anyway. And look they do, every doorstep has eyes.
However, these eyes are simply blank reflections of the glare from Hellsgate and its dogs. The dogs are –unusual. Only by night do they appear to guard the forest. They are large, black, silent beasts. They move with an antelope’s speed and the malice of the deadliest of predator. If you are unlucky enough to encounter them, you will be in a car –they hate cars. Only when the car stops will they be seen in pursuit. If you’re in motion, they follow invisibly, silently. They guide you back to the forest, back to Hellsgate, back to their master.
The hideous eyes, the living form of man’s fear. The body behind them has never been seen, the fear of the unknown. The eyes need fear, they crave it. The enormous yellow orbs, slit eyes that intend to bore into your very soul. The fear of Hellsgate, the fear of the locals is moot in the path of the eyes. They own the woods, just pray they do not own you.