Under Branches: Prologue

the distant day of summer

       Sometimes, it is cold even at the height of summer.  When the sun begins its descent after the hottest day of the year, the moon likes to freeze everything in its light.  Or at least, that is how it seems.
       And this night was no different.  Christopher lay on the grass, the blades fresh with the evening chill, but he could not feel it.  He felt only the heat from the campfire and the warmth of his friends' voices as they chattered next to him, carefully toasting bread with the flames.  If Christopher were to look up toward his house, the boy would see his mother gazing out of the window at them and smiling.  Today, he had finally turned eleven years old.
       "Okay, okay," the eldest boy said.  "It's time for a story!"
       Christopher and his two friends gathered themselves around the fire, ready for Connor to begin.  But they both knew what the story would be.
       "Are you just going to tell us the forest story?"  Robin asked, already sceptical.  "We know that one already."
       Christopher had genuinely hoped that Connor was going to tell them something different, something that did not freeze him to the bone when he thought of it. 
       Connor only smirked and pointed to the forest, mere kilometres from Christopher's back garden.  From where they sat, they could see the thick trees, even in the setting sunlight.  The sky above it glowed red and blue, the moon almost full.
       They all already know this story.  Everyone in Ravenstown did.
       Life's End Forest.  The Dead Woods.  Over fifty people in the past hundred years had gone there to die.  This number of bodies was vast for a village such as Ravenstown, population four hundred and sixty-one.  Those who entered the forest would have a dark and impulsive desire to end their lives overcome them.  They would not be able to fight the sensation and would succumb to the edge of a knife against their wrists.  Every dead body found in the forest had had the same cause of death, and there was never any reason to conceive of anything suspicious.
       Of course, it was widely believed that each one of these suicides was purely coincidental.  After all, how does one prove the connection between the forest and its deaths?
       But if you do decide to go into the woods, you will follow a dusty path that leads to the lake.  You were lead to believe that the lake had dried up, only a dirty puddle remaining, but it is not so.  If you look closely, very carefully, you will see a small wooden house with boarded doors and no windows.  But you will not reach it if you try to, for a great light will appear, drawing you towards the water with its beauty.  The beam will shift, and before you, you will see a broken man made of glass blue irises and skin pale as snow and hair that rivals it.
       They say when you look into the ghost's eyes, you will become drowned in his sadness; the pain is so much you can feel it on your skin. You taste the lake where you stand, suddenly full and bright and cold, the water licking your knees. You see how he died, covered in the blood of his lover. You hear the screams. And the longer you gaze at him, the heavier the feeling of despair. And when he places the knife in your hand, you can only think of one thing to do with it...
       When Connor finished his story, Robin threw a chunk of his toast towards the blonde boy.
       "Shut up; you're just trying to scare us!  It's not even working!"  He cried defiantly.
       Christopher smiled at his friends and hoped they could not see the fear in his eyes as he glanced towards the forest.
       And for a split second, he swore he saw a light flicker between the trees.