terry araragi ; lyndis/emsrocks ; white elephant

[Avalon]

   Terry Araragi  

It's late evening, and the forest begins to darken, an eerie green light filtering through the tops of the trees. I've been in the woods dozens of times after dark, of course, on the winter days when daylight was short but the quotas just a strict as ever. But today, as I swing my axe towards yet another tree, I'm reminded of an old District Seven legend. I don't really believe in such ghost stories, of course, but it still sends a shiver down my spine as the slender branches sway in the wind before me, waving like arms in the darkening backdrop.

There is a tall man in the woods, or so the legend goes, a tall man with no face or hair, wearing a cleanly-pressed black suit and white shirt, who lives in the woods. His body is as slender as the branches of the trees we chop, bony fingers and overstretched body with a spider-like gait that tiptoes silently, even through the thick carpet of dead leaves. He does not speak. Patiently, the man stalks his prey, sometimes for years, until they disappear, never to be seen again.

Now, as I said, this is all an old District Seven legend. It's not hard to imagine trees looking like people when the forest is dark, and the most dangerous things we're likely to encounter out here are the occasional starving wolves. But with the recent disappearances of several children around here, one becomes bound to wonder whether something malicious is truly afoot - it is said, after all, that the Slender Man, for his own inscrutable reasons, tends to prey on children the most.

It's dark now, and my work is finally done. Holstering my axe, I begin on my way home, down the path I have tread many times over since becoming a lumberjack. The dead leaves crunch under my feet, and a chilly wind howling through the forest makes me shiver and long for the warmth of the fireplace. But -

This grove isn't one I ever remember coming across. It's an old grove, a ring of rocks covered in moss at its center, the tall trees towering around it. I - I must have taken a wrong turn, somewhere, and I rack my brain, trying to remember where I'd been heading so I could retrace my steps. I've just stepped one foot outside the grove again when I hear the noise of leaves rustling, right behind me, and I whirl around, one hand on the axe hung around my belt, but there's no one there, not even an animal, only the movement of branches through the trees. I glance around cautiously, before finding my voice and calling out into the darkness -

"Who's there?"

Knuckles
Lyn𝛿is