Hello, all. I'm going to take a short break from Mumbling Nightmares. I need to get some more ideas, so this is what came to mind. This will contain a lot of folklore, which I will explain in the author's note at the end. Let us begin.

Disclaimer: Fairy Tail belongs to Hiro Mashima, not me.

Ever since she was a little girl, Lucy was always told not to go into Hangman's Forest. It was where the spirits of the dead roamed, where those who had hung were left to rot, broken and battered, swaying in a sinister dance. It was an executioner's dream. It was a graveyard of criminals, those who dared opposed higher power, thieves, and unlucky fools who were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. The trees were unkempt and scraggly, and shadows were gathered in puddles in every nook and cranny. Those who entered very rarely returned, and the one man who had claimed that there was nothing but despair. Fallen bodies in broken heaps lined the forest floor, and those that still hung swaying eerily in the breeze.

But Lucy was never one who listened. Ever since her mother died, the mansion which she and her father resided in became lifeless and grey. The Heartfilia estate used to be so full of life. Sunshine streamed through every windowpane, and Lucy played with her dolls with her mother, her father observing with a smile on his face. But with her mother gone, and Lucy bearing such a striking resemblance to the deceased woman, her previously kind father had become closed off and cold. She needed an escape. And that night, an escape she got. Under the cover of night, when the stars shone overhead and the moon grinned full and bright down at her, she snuck out the back into the rose gardens, careful not to catch her skirt on the thorns. She had put on something simple and warm, pulling the thick wool cloak close around her shoulders. She clipped it over her ample bust. The clasp holding it together was about the size of a large coin and was shaped like a rose. The cloak had belonged to her mother, and was a deep red. Her breath plumed in front of her face in the thin October air, and she looked down the garden's path.

With little hesitation, she started down the path, her gait quick. She couldn't afford to get caught. There was hardly ever any fun in her life, anyway. Her mother was all she had needed, she was her best friend. When she had died two years ago, Lucy's world was torn to shreds. Her father worked harder than ever, and Lucy locked herself away in her room, without her father's love to sooth her sorrow. She had nightmares, waking up screaming. Spetto would rush into her room to comfort her, the older woman cooing and stroking her hair until she fell asleep again, restlessly, slowly, and waking up more exhausted than when she went to sleep.

The enormous gate swung open in slow motion with a solid shove, and Lucy slid through, holding her breast back so she didn't get stuck in the narrow opening. Freedom. With one look back at the house, she began her walk to the village, Magnolia. She walked for around twenty minutes, listening to the night sounds and the hoot of an owl which seemed to follow her, eerily always behind her. It was probably several owls, Lucy told herself. She tugged at the cloak, fingering the clasp. She soon reached the gates of the village, and peered around. The houses were dark, the occasional light filling a lone window, spilling buttery hues across the cobblestone streets. Lucy walked with her head down; if anyone saw her, she would be immediately taken back to the mansion, her chances of freedom spoiled. To be safe, she pulled the hood of her cloak up, throwing her face into shadow.

The forest was on the other side of town. She could make it. She had to hurry and most of all, not get caught. Oh, why was she even doing this? Everyone said to keep away from the forest. Going in meant certain death. But... what did she have to lose? She had no mother, her father didn't care about her, no one would miss her. And she had read articles and books about the forest... something about the twisted trees and dark underbrush intrigued her... and terrified her as well. Head down, she walked faster, the heels of her boots making soft taps on the cobblestones. She passed by the canal in town, tugging at the cloak to fight the cold. Damn, it was so dark, why hadn't she brought a lantern? Just a little further...

"You!" A voice, gruff and whispered cut through the cold air. Lucy froze, closing her eyes. This was it, she was going home. "You there, come here."

She turned, ready to face her captor, when she saw a dirty child, rummaging through a garbage pail. He had in his hand a piece of moldy bread. A man stood on his porch, a small dog emerging from behind a bush. The man's gaze was focused on the child, his stubbly face twisted into a scowl.

"You get away from there! Shoo!" The child started, and scurried off, the bread still tight in his fist. The man hadn't seen her. Lucy sighed in relief, and turned, continuing her march. She took the path out of town, the silence of the night a comfortable companion. She walked father, and farther still. The forest was in reach. All at once she came to a stop.

The forest loomed in front of her. The trees twisted and blackened with age. Dead leaves carpeted the ground, the still living ones dyed brilliant colors and clinging to the breaches of the trees. Said branches crisscrossed over her head, leaves snagged in their web of brambles. Shadows loomed like figures the further she looked, and the moonlight, though the moon was full, did little to cut the gloom. On a weathered post to her left was sign. 'Hangman's Forest" was written in peeling black paint, and a lantern hung on a rusty hook. The flame shook in the bitter chill, and Lucy grasped it's handle, pulling the light close to herself. Steeling her courage, Lucy stepped forward. The forest's shadows swallowed her, and while she had the lantern, it did very little to provide visibility.

Oh, no she shouldn't have come. Her resolve was crumbling, and she was beginning to get second thoughts. Why didn't she stay home? Her determination for adventure was melting away, and she turned, shining the pale light around, but everything looked the same. She tried her hardest to spot where she had broken the underbrush, but could see nothing. She took a shaky breath, and steeled forward.

Not much later, she had reached a creek. Lucy licked her dry lips, thanking whatever god there was and she knelt, setting the lantern behind her. Cupping her cold hands, she dipped them into the even colder water, pooling the liquid into her palms. With careful precision as not to spill, she lifted her hands and began to drink. Not enough. She scooped more, and yet another until she had quenched her thirst. She peered down into the stream, and pulled the lantern closer to her side. The flame's light reflected off the clear surface. She continued to look, and before her eyes, something began to form. The face of a woman? The eyes came into focus, the color as blue as the water, wispy hair, also a deep blue plumed around the expressionless, porcelain pale face. Lucy gasped, jumping back from the stream. When she finally found the courage to look back at the water, the face was gone, leaving nothing but the river stones for her to look at.

After walking down the banks of the creek, though more cautiously than before, she eventually found a tree that had fallen across, creating a makeshift bridge. The water gushed underneath it, but she placed her foot in it, testing if it could hold her weight. When she found that it could, she carefully lifted herself up onto the surface, the wood cracked, but half firm. With careful feet, she made her way across. She peered into the dark, her lantern casting flickering light. When she walked further, it was then that she saw the bodies. The first one was sitting against a tree, it was the body of a man. He had a rope knotted around his neck, the skin around it painted purple against the pale flesh. His dark hair hung around his face, and Lucy dared not look at the face it's self. She gulped, and moved on.

The second body was hung. It hung from a tree, swaying in the breeze. A woman this time. She had long blonde hair, and Lucy instinctively touched her own hair. Her dress was a pale pink thing, hanging around her form shapelessly. Her head was bent at a rakish angle. There was an 'x' painted on her abdomen in black ink, marking her as a witch. That wasn't scared Lucy the most, though. It was her eyes. They were clouded over, staring, wide. Her lips were dry, the skin cracked, and parted as if just gasping for a breath of air. Lucy gave a whimper, and put her head down, scurrying past.

The forest got darker and darker and the air got colder. The deeper she went, the more bodies she spotted. Some lay in heaps on the ground, half buried by leaves. Others hung like the body of the blonde woman she had seen before. As she progressed, she could swear that she heard the snapping of twigs behind her, but when she turned, she saw nothing. Finally, her fear was becoming feral. She turned sharply, her eyes narrowed, just in time to catch the face of a man. His eyes were scarlet, his face lined with studs of metal. From what she could see of his hair, it was jet black, and seemed to melt into the shadow around him. He wasted no time in vanishing after she saw him, a sharp toothed grin breaking across his face as he disappeared into the shadow from which he had emerged. Lucy began to shake, and then she began to run. What the hell was that? What was that woman in the water? Lucy panted heavily as she ran, the lantern swinging wildly in her hand. In a clearing, she collapsed onto her hands and knees, her hair hanging around her face.

But she wasn't alone. She heard a creak, not metallic, but a noise produced by a rope when it's strained under weight. Lucy gulped. Did she really want to see? She gulped, steeling herself, and before she could stop herself, she snapped her head up. There was a tree in the center of the clearing. It was old, it's branches gnarled and twisted, the creases and knots like the face of an old man. The leaves were sprinkled about the roots, some brown and curling and others vibrantly yellow and orange-red. She approached the tree, deciding to investigate, and did almost a full circle until she saw the source of the noise. There, hanging from a noose, was a young man. He couldn't have been much older than her. His skin was a light tan, and his salmon colored hair hanging in tufts around his face. He was wearing a white scarf with an almost scale like pattern, and a large, tattered, dark cloak. The cloak was mostly behind his shoulders, blown back by the wind. The open cloak revealed an and open-collared, one-sleeved long overcoat, tucked into his white trousers and zipped. The single sleeve covered his left arm, kept in place by a brown leather armband, leaving his entire right arm exposed. On his right shoulder was a strange mark. She gave him a once over before beginning to back away. The rope creaked again, and Lucy stumbled back.

Suddenly, the hanged man began to speak.

And that's were I leave you. The next chapter will be up soon. I really hope you like this story, I plan to run with it. Here are the types of monsters/creatures we've encountered on our Lucy's journey so far.

Juvia: Neck (Nixie) - Shapeshifting female water spirits from Germanic folklore.

Gajeel: Shadow Person/Demon - The perception of a patch of shadow as a living, humanoid figure, particularly as interpreted by believers in the paranormal or supernatural as the presence of a spirit or other entity. Are found in folklore worldwide.

Natsu: Demon/Wizard? - I haven't really figured this out for him yet.

I'll see you next time!

~Starry