Chapter 2: Chapter Two

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October 22, 2012

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'The woods are evil...that was what Richard Laymon, the American horror writer said in The Woods are Dark, 1981, forty years' ago...people are scarificed to the Killing Trees, in that book. Laymon was an influence on my writing', Robert Helliger, August 4, 1973-.

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'Carl'.

'Yes, Madison'.

'Are demons in the woods?', she asked him. 

'I don't believe in God, Jesus Christ, or Satan', Carl answered. 

'And, the point is...You're an atheist'.

'I am a Non-Believer', Carl said.

'What the fuck is real with you?', Madison asked him. 

'Nothing is wrong with me, babe. Besides, President Obama is losing the plot', Carl answered. He was watching Donald Trump acting like a fool on TV. He shifted in the driver's-side seat.  He was thinking about the New York woods, three miles from Staten Island; he was sure the horrors of the past wouldn't come back again.

Bert, Carl's friend, was afraid.

Hewas catatonic with terror.

'It's the Woods girl', Carl said. 

'Elspeth Darrow was a simple village girl from 1812', Madison said.

'And'.

'And the Father sacrificed her to the wood demon'.

'Maybe he was possessed', Carl said.

'No; no. She sinned in front of the Congregation'.

'Did she? She was twelve'.

'Yes, she was. But she didn't know it'.

'But, she was a Puritan'.

'The Puritans are religious fanatics'.

'Where was the book of maps', Carl grabbed the book with his right hand. He looked at the map; he was thinking about the Fate of Rages, a day in which ritual sacrifices were practiced on October 29, two days before Halloween, on October 31. Such matters of a religious nature seared the Altar of Sacrifice in the Church; such matters seared into the fractured minds of the Congregation, until the worshipers prayed for their sins to be cleansed of evil, and the sadness of the death of Elspeth Darrow, created a darkness that never went away.

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The woman watched them. 

She smoked a cigarette. 

The fiery embers burned her left, middle, finger. 'Fuck!', she wailed. She didn't need to see the discoloration; she was sure, deep down, that the brutal savageness of the New York city was like the decades-old past; a past that wreaked havoc in the grimness of the Island itself. She backed away, as she fell down. It was a bite of an insect. She looked at the blood that came from the leeches. 'Get off me!', she yelled. She was sure the woods were full of the insects. Leeches came down her fingers; leeches came from the wetlands. She walked to the Ladies' Restroom. She opened the door; she went inside. 

Once she went outside, she saw Don Kemp, her boyfriend. 

'Are they there?', he asked her.

'Yes', she answered.

'Good. Let's get them', Donald said.

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Carl saw the couple.

'What is the matter?', he asked them.

'It's time for you to go', Donald answered.

'To the Altar of Sacrifice', Natalie, Donald's girlfriend, said.

They were screaming, as they were dragged into the deep woods. The Altar was still there. Nearby was the possessed girl, Elspeth Darrow. In her right hand was a scythe. 'It's time for death', she said. And the wicked weapon came downward on the Altar, and the body of Carl fell. Blood spilled, as Madison fled in horror.

She drove away from the dark, wet, woods.

And the horror had returned.

Page 2.