"The Horror of Nightshade Woods" by E. W. Farnsworth

The Horror of Nightshade Woods

by E. W. Farnsworth

The storms always bespoke a change in the Nightshade Woods.  The grounds crews suspected foul play, but the police were not going to waste their time on suicides.  In the woods were ropes hanging from trees, many with bodies attached, swaying and sometimes singing in the breezes.  

Young people avoided the forest and circulated rumors about the dangers of entering the confines beyond the iron fence with its ranks of lances.  One Lothario tacked up the sign at the entrance: “Abandon all hope, you who enter here.”   Tree branches reached through the iron bars of the fence, like arms of desperate prisoners.

Susan Landry fancied she was a witch.  Dressed in rags, she led a lonely, miserable life.  Above the rustling of the leaves and the hum of cicadas in the woods, you could hear her plaintive singing on summer evenings.  

I once watched her visit trees with human-like faces on their broken boughs.  She caressed each and called them by names she had assigned them.  Her songs invariably contained the words, “manured the ground,” which phrase was gruesomely fearful.  Her voice, however, sang dire threats of horrible fates of all whom love forsook.  When she laughed, frantically, my blood ran in a cold frisson down my spine. 

Susan became my secret study as she alone seemed to be impervious to the curse within the wrought-iron bars.  She was, I thought, a captive siren.  When the moon was full, I felt particularly attracted by her spells.  When the moon was a mere sliver in the sky, I became emboldened to investigate her demesne.  

I would enter the woods and keep to the main path, overarched with a dark tracery of branches.  I never saw her during my trespasses, but I felt her eyes appraising me from the forest’s depths.  Invariably I would become lost in reverie and then I would awaken to discover a hanging corpse.  I then backed off and scrambled through the damp forest floor until I found the main path out, my heart pounding so hard, I thought it might burst.

Reporting the presence of another suicide brought the usual smirks of the authorities.  They took my statement as they had always done before.  I never had the satisfaction that they had ever investigated properly.  I deduced the police must be parties to the horror.  They only laughed when I mentioned Susan Landry.  Their leering faces made me feel sorry for the girl.  I kept up my vigil but wondered about the weird team we made, a cloud of witness waiting for an event of great significance.

A hurricane was forecast, and I decided to wear my rain gear into the Nightshade Woods.  I entered the sanctuary in the calm before the storm.  I thought I saw a will-o-the-wisp ahead and followed it.  

In the thick of the wind-tossed trees, I heard Susan singing.  She was warning me not to harm the tiny orange and green frogs as they were lucky.  I stopped in my tracks and reached into the undergrowth.  In the dappled light, I watched tiny creatures jump from the fistful of mosses and decaying wood in my hand.  They were so numerous I was sure I must have trod upon dozens of the tiny animals with each step. 

I cried out, “Where can I step so that I will not harm your frogs?”  She did not answer me, but the forest creaked and groaned.  Tree trunks knocked together.  Ropes swayed searching for necks of suicides.  The screaming wind mocked the rising alarms in my tortured mind.  Susan’s voice sang in ecstasy as ropes from above brushed against my face and arms.  I heard wood snapping underfoot and felt the wild, wind-driven twigs and leaves against my body.

“The hurricane’s full force is coming,” I yelled out.  “I can help you escape before we both are killed by flying debris.”  

I listened but only heard what seemed to be a girl’s laughter.  Groping my way, I felt wet clothing around an arm and a leg.  A deluge fell, drenching the forest, while I searched ahead for any sign of Susan.  

The body I had found was now spinning by its cord.  I could tell it was an old crone I had seen before in the city park.  Her neck had been broken so her body stretched out, her feet dangling but not touching the forest floor.  The darkness was uneven, and the fluorescence of the rotting wood seemed like sparkling starlight.  I realized I might not have much time left before the monster storm swept all recourse away.

“Susan, we have to get out of this forest to a place of safety.” In return, all I heard was her hysterical laughter.  A violent twist of wind left me on my back with rain falling on my face.  Although I was dressed in my rain gear, I felt water sluicing down my back, along with tiny frogs.  My boots were now full of water and tiny creatures too.  

I scrambled to my knees and used my hands and arms to navigate.  I could not make headway towards Susan, so I resolved to find a path to the entrance for myself.  I called out, “Susan, follow me, if you can.  I’ll lead us out of this place!” I felt foolish as I could not hear myself.

The whistling wind was mocking me now, and the forest was trying to masticate me like giant teeth and a thousand fluid tongues licking itself and me clean from contagion.  A path beneath my feet seemed propitious, so I followed it though I could not see its direction.  I began to doubt my decision as I made my way through a corridor of hanging corpses, their taut ropes sounding a macabre cacophony.

At the end of the dancing figures, I felt a small hand on my arm.  I gratefully followed its lead to the entrance and to safety.  Once I passed through the gate, the hand disappeared. The storm had ceased.