The Forest

He was not, then he was. He sprang from nothing. Well, not exactly nothing. He had no sense of time, past or present. He did not know right from wrong, good or evil. He did not know his name, yet they called him by several.

At first, he was a shadow-like form that drifted through the heart of the woods. But his form changed based upon the imagination of others, growing with their thoughts, becoming increasingly terrible.

In the beginning, a boy named Mark described him to his friends. As a gang, they came to his sanctuary, taunting him to appear. When he did, the youngest boy, who had survived rheumatic fever, fainted from fright. The others carried this child home where he died a few hours later.

Each repetition of an encounter with him gave this creature strength. One day he suddenly had eyes that glowed as red and black as burning coals. For the first time, he could see his twig-like appendages. Over time these solidified into actual digits. They described him as gruesomely horrible, and so it was what he became.

A hunger grew in him. He craved their energy, feeding from their fear. As he changed, so did the forest. The trees closest to his proximity turned into deadwood. These skeletal shadows enhanced his form.

After the boys and teens, men approached carrying ghost-busting equipment. This didn’t help them, because he wasn’t a ghost. He was now more than any shadow. He emitted a barking laugh, deep and guttural. Hearing this, they fled in terror. He enjoyed dining on their fear, thought it a marvelous feast, and hoped they would come again.

People continued to talk and to visit. Thanks to them, he had become the phantom of the forest!