When I was little, my mother had always told me to stay away from the woods that surrounded our house. We lived on the outskirts of a small town that was packed with wildlife. She would tell me that the boogyman lived in the woods, and that if I went out there, he would catch me. Luckily, our back yard was big enough to where going out and playing did not mean getting near the woods, although, after countless times of hearing the scary stories by my mother, just looking at the woods gave me a chill. As I got older, the story changed from Boogyman to dangerous wildlife, something that my preteen mind could understand. Although, being a preteen also meant I was extremely defiant and had an attitude that made Satan look cute.

One night, when I was twelve, a friend of mine that lived about a mile away was spending the night. We went to the same school, and even though she was my neighbor, we had a lot of land between us. Because we didn't understand the consequences of our actions and the plausible side effects, her and I decided to explore the back part of the woods that night when it was almost two in the morning, and my mother was sound asleep. It started off normal, and scary, although neither of us would admit it at the time, as we continued to walk, our flashlight the only source of light, as the tree's blocked out the moon above us.

We had barely started exploring the dark, disturbing area, when a low growl was heard. My friend and I turned around, looking everywhere, flashing the light at everything, but couldn't fight the source of the noise. The growl, so disturbing, it didn't sound like a dog growl, or a feline's growl. It was something different, deeper, vicious. Before we could stop ourselves, we were screaming. Our wails louder than anything we thought we could muster up. Not long after, though, protective arms wrapped around us, and the comforting, and scary, stern, sound of my mother's voice broke our cries. She wasn't happy. I was grounded.

Every single time I ask her about the growling, she would blow it off as saying it was a wolf's growl, saying that they were vicious creatures at night under the full moon, and that they would have attacked us if she didn't show up. I believed this, hating wolfs. Up until I was in high school, I despised the K-9 species. It wasn't until my biology class when I learned the true nature of the wolf. I was furious. I marched straight home from the bus that day and complained to my mother, calling out her lies. She covered it up with saying she didn't remember the incident. I was confused, angry, betrayed. I didn't understand my mother's reasoning for lying to me, but I wanted to find out.

Several years had past, and my interest for the thing inside the woods died down until it turned to nothing more than a distant, forgotten, nightmare. I went to College outside of the city, and in one that wasn't surrounded by the woods, living on campus and working at an Olive Garden as a waitress before working at a Zoo. After a few long, hard years at college, I had finally achieved my goal of becoming a Zoologist, and not long after, I met someone that had became my loyal boyfriend and future husband.

After several visits, which slowly became shorter and shorter, I had finally brought up the topic of having my mother sell the house and living in a more comfortable, smaller place closer to where I was living. She would always decline, saying that the home she lived in had memories she didn't want to leave behind. She wouldn't even take the offer of her living with my spouse and I, which concerned us. When I was very young, much younger than I could remember, my father passed away from the army. They lived in the home that my mother lived in her entire life. Apparently, it's been a house the family lived in for a very long time, even built. I felt that was the biggest reason why she didn't want to leave.

Finally, a few years later, I had received a phone call from my mother's local hospital, saying that she had fallen and broke her hip, and would be staying there until she got better. My husband and I took the first plane back home, where we went to her home to drop our things and go straight to the hospital and to her bedside. The entire way back, we discussed the possibility of just moving back in with her, helping her, looking after her. She was the only family I had ever known. I loved her, my husband loved her. We talked to her about this at her bedside, but she seemed to not like the idea. Taking no for an answer, I made sure that the topic was settled, and when visiting hours we over, we promised to visit soon before leaving and going back to her house.

My mother didn't have a lot of supplies, so I took her car and went into town to get stuff for dinner. It was during the time I was making dinner, when I was putting a pot in the sink to fill it with hot water, I looked out at the backyard, the place I had a lot of fun memories of. I watched as night fell and the wind grew, the grass move in sync with each other, the tree's sway in the wind... Almost all the tree's. There was one particular tree that wasn't. It just stood there, tall and stiff, with only two branches. It was much darker than the rest. Calling my husband over, he looked out, concern on his face. Finally, he told me what he thought of this...

.. He told me it looked like a man.

Just a warm up. There will be chapters with dialogue, so don't worry x3 I hope you guys enjoyed this story! I have great idea's and plans for it! Please R&R!

-Chi