Chương 94: Chapter 94
The moon hung low in the sky, casting long shadows over the town of Brindle Hollow. The old woods that bordered it felt alive, their rustling trees whispering secrets to anyone foolish enough to listen.
Every year, on Halloween, the people of Brindle Hollow could hear the screams. They would start small—distant, weak—then build in volume until the sound felt like it was coming from inside their own skulls.
It was the witch.
Her name had been lost to time, but the tales lived on. No one knew exactly where she came from, but they all knew where she went. The woods. She lived deep in the trees, her home hidden beneath twisted limbs and suffocating vines. No one dared approach. No one who'd entered the woods after dark ever came back.
And every Halloween, she came to the town. Two people. Two sacrifices. That was the rule. And no one who resisted was spared.
It had been ten years since Micah's sister, Eliza, had been taken. He remembered it like it was yesterday. The terror in her eyes as they dragged her into the woods, her screams swallowed by the trees. Micah had run after them, but the undergrowth was thick, and no one had seen her since. No one but the witch.
Now, as the town prepared for another Halloween, Micah's anger had turned into something else. A hollow, bitter resolve.
He was going to end it.
The witch had to die.
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The path into the woods was overgrown. The trees pressed close, their bark gnarled, twisted. The air was thick with decay. No one had touched this place for years. Not that anyone had wanted to.
Micah felt the weight of the night settle on him as he walked deeper. The full moon bathed the trees in silver, casting long, dark shapes across the forest floor. He was alone. Alone, and determined.
He wasn't sure how long it would take to find her—if he would even find her. But he knew this was his only chance. He couldn't wait another year, couldn't let another person vanish into those woods.
Suddenly, there was a rustle to his right. He froze, every muscle tensed. The sound stopped.
Then, another rustle. This time, closer.
Micah's breath quickened, but he forced himself to stay still. His eyes darted to the darkness beyond the moonlight. A shape. A figure, moving between the trees.
It was her.
He tried to move but found himself rooted to the spot. The figure grew clearer, her form unmistakable: an old woman, hunched over, skin like dry paper, eyes black pits. She was wrapped in rags, the fabric hanging from her body like old spider webs.
Her head turned. She saw him.
Micah's blood ran cold.
Her mouth opened. It was wide, impossibly wide. No sound came from it at first. Then, there was a hiss, a whisper that slid into his mind like a knife.
"Come closer," she said. The words vibrated in his skull, felt like they were coming from all around him. "I've been waiting."
Micah could feel the pull, a force like gravity, drawing him in. His legs trembled, but he fought against it. The witch grinned, teeth jagged and sharp, a predatory smile.
"I know you, boy," she crooned. "I know what you want. But I'll never let you have it. Not unless you make a trade."
"Trade?" Micah choked out, his voice thick with fear. "What kind of trade?"
"Two sacrifices. Two lives." She stepped forward, the sound of her feet on the dirt soft, almost soothing. "It's how it's always been. It's how it'll always be. Your sister. Eliza. She wasn't the first. She won't be the last."
"No," Micah whispered, though he was unsure whether he meant it to himself or her. "I'll stop you. I'll kill you."
The witch tilted her head, her smile widening. "You think you can kill me, boy? You think you can stop me?"
Her form blurred, like a heatwave, her body twisting in ways it should not. Micah's heart raced, his hands shaking. The witch was too powerful. There was no way he could defeat her. But he had to try.
Before he could make a move, the witch raised her arms. Black smoke poured from her mouth, swirling around him, filling his lungs with its bitter stench. He gasped for air, but the smoke was thick, choking him. He could feel the forest closing in, the trees shifting, bending.
"Two sacrifices," she repeated, her voice now a growl, a monstrous sound that scraped against the inside of his skull. "Choose."
Micah staggered, his mind reeling. He couldn't think, couldn't breathe. His hands reached for his neck, trying to tear the smoke out, but it was useless.
"Choose, Micah," she whispered, drawing closer, her breath like a foul wind. "Your sister, your friends, your town... Or you."
The smoke thickened, blinding him. His chest felt like it was collapsing.
And then, something inside him snapped.
"Take me," he croaked.
The smoke receded. The forest seemed to breathe again. The witch's eyes glinted with dark satisfaction.
"Good boy," she said, her voice sweeter now. "I knew you'd understand. You've been marked since the day she was taken."
Micah collapsed to his knees, his body weak, his vision fading. The world around him spun. He had made the wrong choice. But there was no turning back.
The witch laughed. It was a sound that clawed at his mind, a laugh that felt like it came from deep beneath the earth.
------
When the people of Brindle Hollow woke on November 1st, they found two bodies. Two twisted, mangled figures, left on the outskirts of the woods. Their faces frozen in expressions of terror, their bodies unnaturally contorted, like dolls left too long in the rain. No one could recognize them.
They never found Micah. They never found the witch, either.
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