I open the door, and step out on to the cold, hard, chrisp, dirt, with roots protruding from the yellow patches of grass.  The trees had decayed slowly over the years and had begun to rot.  One great oak drooped down at me and become crescent shaped, almost as if it were welcoming me into its home.  The sky is the color of blood, red and foreboding.  There is thundering in the distance; the wind is carrying every sound, however miniscule, over the trees.  I walk onwards, through the trees that are no longer green, the wind whispering in my ear: Come. Come.  The sound guides me to a river, waves violently rippling through the ravine, nipping at the sandy beaches on the coast.  Come. Come.  I watch a small squirrel as it boroughs into a nearby tree trunk, into a deep, small cave.  The squirrel is overjoyed in finding and storing its food for the upcoming winter.   Come.  I make my way carefully across the bridge, made by a fallen tree from a tall precipice, one foot in front of the other.  More squirrels, swinging like baboons, move about above me in the canopy.  I can barely make out the shape of an eagle flying overhead. Come. Come.  The trees have joined in the call of the wind, beckoning me to come closer to the heart of the forest. The grotesque, pockmarked trail I am following suddenly veers off to the left, going deeper and deeper into the woods.  The mud is slushing around my feet  now, and I wonder if the wetness was caused by rainfall or hidden gullies further in the darkness. It is becoming colder, and I can no longer see my hands in front of my face.  Come. Come. Come. The wind is becoming more urgent now, picking up speed as it travels across a primeval land.   A light begins to shimmer in the darkness a few yards ahead of me.  I can make it out from between two trees.  There are now two lights.  There is a soft, guttural growl that slowly pierces the silence, and my breathing begins to quicken. Three now. Four. Come. Come. The lights are luring me in, like a fisherman reels in a trout. Come. Come. Come. My heart beats faster, harder. I can no longer breathe. Oh someone help! I can’t break free. Come. Come. It won’t let me go! Come. Come. Come. I’m so scared! Please! Someone! Come. Come. Come. Come….
Silence. It is dark again in the woods. Not a single sound can be heard, not a single sight can be seen.  No sign of life, except for the residual, sickly, smell of blood  seeping into the air.