The Fork in the Weary Woods

“Stop pulling!” Mr. Philips exclaimed. “You’ll choke yourself to death, Daisy. I can guarantee the squirrel isn't worth it.” The little brown and white mutt paid him no mind, and continued with all her might. 

Having been stuck in the same spot for several minutes, Mr. Philips had grown rather cross with Daisy. He carefully reached down for a pebble, to see if he couldn’t scare the little rodent off. The pebble flew straight into the squirrel’s chest, startling it almost out of its own skin and sending it scurrying up a tree. 

Strangely, Daisy didn’t stop pulling and barking. Now, with the distraction out of sight, it was clear that she had never been interested in the squirrel at all.

Every day, rain or shine and without fail, Mr. Philips would take Daisy for a walk through the nearby trail in the Weary Woods. And every day when they came to the fork, they would go left. Something about it felt natural. Daisy had never cared where they went, so long as they were out. But now that Mr. Philips had decided to take her down the right fork, she protested vehemently.

Mr. Philips took a few steps forward before detecting an uneasy feeling in his chest. He couldn’t put his finger on it. But he had been walking these woods for years. The only danger there was the mosquito population- and the Fall season ruled that out. Besides, with such crisp autumn air, it seemed that there could not have been a nicer day to try something a little different. Putting his hesitation aside (and Daisy’s), he set off down the path untraveled.  

The right fork was much the same as its sister- in fact they almost appeared to mirror each other. The odd feelings in Mr. Philips’s chest had all but disappeared. That is, until they came upon a small cottage. 

“What a sad little place, Daisy.” She barked, as if in agreement. The ground surrounding it was littered with fallen shingles, the windows were so caked with dirt and dust that they were almost completely opaque, and there were enough cobwebs to host a whole colony of spiders. It seemed to him a wonder that it was standing at all. It looked haunted. Mr. Philips was certain that if he stared long enough he would be confronted by some terrifying apparition. Gently tugging Daisy’s leash, he began moving along the trail again. 

As they walked, the urge to turn around and look back at the cottage grew. With each step the pull seemed stronger- more urgent. Already regretting his decision, he turned around. His stomach turned at the idea of going back toward the cottage, and yet he felt like he had no other choice. Something was calling to him with an irresistible voice. His feet began dragging him forward. 

Approaching the door of the cottage, he searched desperately for any signs of the place being locked or closed off. His heart sank when he noticed that not only was the door not locked, it was slightly ajar. The crack revealed complete darkness on the other side. Daisy growled. She did not want to go inside. But much to his dismay, Mr. Philips did. 

I’ll do it quick, he said to himself, like ripping off a bandaid. I’ll see absolutely nothing inside, and then we can go about our day. Ignoring his screaming nerves in favor of the mysterious irresistible force that beckoned him, he closed his eyes, shoved the door open, and ran inside. 

Slamming the door shut, his mind raced with horrific images of what he dreaded might be inside the wretched place. He didn’t dare to look around. A murderer, he groaned in his mind, a dead body… a ghost. He shook his head at that last thought. You fool, ghosts aren’t real. 

Just as he had started to feel embarrassed at his silly fear, he noticed a shockingly alluring aroma in the room. The pit in his stomach vanished as he attempted to figure out what it was. 

“Sweet, buttery- is that… pie?” 

“Blueberry, actually,” called a smooth voice from behind him. The adrenaline spike forced him to open his eyes, whipping around to find a handsome young man standing in the middle of a beautiful living area. He must’ve been mid-twenties, at least six foot four with a very strong build. His neat mahogany curls contrasted strikingly with his icy blue gaze. He smiled. Despite his charming dimples, strong jaw, and perfect teeth, there was something off about him. Perhaps it was the way he held his head, or the way it wasn’t clear whether the smile reached his eyes. “Welcome to our home.” 

 A rush of heat flooded Mr. Philips’ face as he realized that he was trespassing. 

“I- I’m so sorry, I thought this place was… empty.” He didn’t want to use the word ‘abandoned’ as he refused to add insult to his list of infractions. How could such a lovely place look so dilapidated from the outside? 

As he pondered this, his host replied, “Not at all. Janie and I just adore visitors- hence the open door.” He spoke as if he really meant it, so much so that Mr. Philips forgot about the odd quality of the man’s expression.

“Who is this precious thing?” The young man knelt down and held his hand out toward Daisy, who met his greeting with a low growl. “Ah, not friendly I see. I’m sure you can be persuaded.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small piece of dried meat. “May I?” 

The dog did not cease her growling, which surprised Mr. Philips. Daisy was an extremely friendly dog. He had often thought that if an intruder were to enter their home in the dead of night, they would be greeted with a wagging tail and a lick on the cheek. But this man, who had given the dog no reason to dislike him, had somehow merited significant suspicion. 

“Daisy, be polite,” he scolded. 

“Not to worry,” the young man reassured him. For a moment, Mr. Philips detected irritation in the man’s eyes, directed at the dog. “I’m a new face,” he said, putting the meat back in his pocket. “I’m sure she will get used to me. Maybe I should introduce myself so I won’t be a stranger anymore.” He held out his hand for Mr. Philips to shake, “I’m Calvin Bryony. And you are?” 

“The name’s Philips,” he replied, taking Calvin’s hand.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you Mr. Philips. Can I tempt you to stay for dinner? Janie has a roast on, and you already know about the pie.” 

A wave of crushing discomfort rolled over him as he considered the offer. On top of simply knowing nothing about these people, the state of the home from the outside still bothered him. The difference was night and day. As he further observed his surroundings, there seemed to be something otherworldly about them- something unnatural. It was all too neat. Far too neat. 

Just as Mr. Philips had made up his mind to decline the invitation and be on his way, an astonishingly beautiful woman entered the room from a swinging door he hadn’t noticed before. Her wavy hair framed her angelic face in gold, causing her to appear as though she was actually glowing. Her movements were so graceful that it wouldn’t have surprised him if she had been floating. 

“Oh, won’t you please stay, Mr. Philips? Calvin is right, we do adore having guests.” Upon hearing her melodic voice, the discomfort left just as quickly as it had come. 

“I- well, I suppose I could stay for a while. If it’s not an imposition, that is.” 

“None at all,” Janie said, “We would love to have you for dinner.” 

Calvin gave a strange smile, but Mr. Philips was so captivated by the lovely lady that he hardly paid any mind to it. 

As he ate, Mr. Philips wondered why he had felt any sense of danger at all. The roast was the best he had ever tasted- a family recipe, according to the Bryonys. By the time he had a piece of pie in front of him, he seriously considered whether or not he ever wanted to leave. The food was to die for, and the company was even better. Both Calvin and Janie had wicked senses of humor, and yet still managed to remain extremely classy for their guest. Wherever worry was kept within Mr. Philips’ chest, it was replaced with the strongest sense of coziness and comfort he had ever known. He felt as though he was sitting amongst lifelong friends. 

Pouring him a third glass of wine, Janie remarked, “It’s awfully late, Mr. Philips. Won’t you stay the night? We have the loveliest little guest room in the back.” 

To his own surprise, he didn’t hesitate to accept her offer. Before he knew it, he had finished his wine and was headed to the back of the cottage. He had noticed as he left the kitchen that Daisy had ignored the chunk of roast they had given her. But before he could question it, he was already drifting off to sleep. 

He awoke with a gasp. His heart pounded out of his chest. He steadied his breathing as he realized that he must’ve been dreaming. He could’ve sworn he heard someone scream. He closed his eyes, but opened them immediately upon hearing the sound again. However muffled it may be, it was unmistakable. Someone was shrieking in terror. 

The pit in his stomach returned, heavier than ever. Acting on pure instinct he leapt out of bed, leashed Daisy, and went out in search of the source of the scream. He tiptoed, I would hate to wake them, he told himself. He wouldn’t admit it, but he knew deep down that he was afraid. Their perfect faces were a great distraction from what he guessed was a dark truth. Something that Daisy felt- and tried to warn him of- before they even started down the right fork. Something was wrong with Calvin and Janie Bryony, and they had something to do with the awful wailing that was coming from somewhere in these woods.  

The sound became more clear as he stepped outside, which was both helpful and terrifying. Hearing such a distressing sound in the almost total darkness was enough to make his stomach turn with each repetition, but it gave him something to follow. It led him behind the house. He wasn’t walking long before he found what looked like a shed. The caving roof was illuminated by moonlight. Please don’t let the noise be coming from there, God, please, he prayed already feeling in his bones what was about to happen. His stomach dropped as the shriek came once again. It was undeniable. It was coming from the shed. 

Someone is in there. They need my help. He didn’t allow himself to think beyond that. With Daisy at his side, he picked up the pace and marched bravely forward. 

As soon as he opened the door he wished he hadn’t. He was assaulted by the stench of rotting meat and excrement. If he had been able to move, he would have slammed it shut and sprinted all the way home. But he could only stand there, his eyes fixed on the horror that was laid out before him. 

Cages and bodies. Some moving limply, some clearly dead. Bones, flesh, and remains littered the dirt floor. The walls were painted with blood and decorated with claw marks and torn fingernails that were embedded in the wood. He heaved into the grass, on top of what appeared to be a severed arm. As he realized what he was looking at, he was about to vomit again when one of the bodies reached out toward him. He jumped back. “Please,” the thing rasped through defeated sobs, “help.”

Mr. Philips didn’t respond at once. He could only stare, appalled at the state of this creature that must have been a woman at some point. It was all he could do to utter the question, “What… happened?” He asked, knowing he probably didn’t want to know the answer. 

“They’re something else,” she coughed, “not people. They’re keeping us here.” She gagged and coughed up a huge amount of blood. 

“Why?”

 Shivers ran down his spine as a familiar feminine voice responded from behind him,“Meat, silly.” Mr. Philips turned around to face her. It sounded like Janie, but the monster that stared back at him was nothing like her. Her lush lips had stretched into a grotesque line that stretched across far too much of her face. Her rosy complexion had vanished, replaced by pasty white leathery skin. Her eyes were all pupil, and her body was warped and sharp. 

Daisy, who had been cowering behind her owner let out a scared but protective yelp as though she was trying to appear threatening to scare the awful thing away from her master. The sound had scarcely left her throat before Janie’s skinny twisted arm stretched out to a horrifying length and snapped the brave dog’s neck. 

“NO!” Mr. Philips cried. He broke down immediately, almost forgetting the danger he was in as the grief came sweeping in. It’s all my fault, he lamented to himself, Daisy didn’t want to come here. She even tried to warn me. She knew there was something wrong with these people- or whatever they are. She warned me and I forced her anyway. I forced her and now she’s dead. My best friend is dead. 

“You shouldn’t be surprised.” Calvin appeared out of nowhere, now as terrifying as Janie. He shared her stretched mouth, pasty skin, and black eyes, but he had stretched out to an unnatural length. His fingers were tipped with razor blade claws. “Janie told you that we would love to have you for dinner.”

“Run,” the woman in the shed squeaked weakly. Mr. Philips turned around just in time to see Janie’s hand stretch out and grab her by the neck. She ripped the woman’s body from the floor of the gore-filled shed and tore her head from her body with several rows of needle-like teeth. The woman’s skull was crushed inside her mouth with the most awful crunching sound. Calvin joined in, sinking his own teeth into her torso tearing off a huge chunk of flesh. 

“This is fine,” Calvin said after swallowing, “but I prefer my meat slow cooked.” 

Mr. Philips dropped to his knees as he grasped it all. The roast wasn’t a different recipe or blend of spices. It tasted different because it wasn’t roast. It was human flesh. He had eaten meat from another person’s bones. Not only was he a cannibal, but he was about to be killed and eaten. 

“We can offer you a compromise, Mr. Philips,” Calvin slowly began morphing into his human form. As quickly as he could blink, Mr. Philips found himself transported back to the couple’s charming living area. A fire roared in the hearth to warm his freezing toes, and the couple stood in front of him wearing their attractive human faces. 

“Here’s the deal, sweetie,” Janie placed her delicate hand on his shoulder, “We can let you leave. You don’t have to end up in that nasty little shed out back.”

“We would hate to put you there,” Calvin added gently. He sat down in the other velvet armchair and rested his chin thoughtfully on his fist. “But we would need a teensy something in return.”

Janie began massaging Mr. Philip’s shoulders as she spoke. “If you could bring us a replacement, we could let you go. Or…we could let you stay here.” His heart started racing. He could feel it all melting away at a horrifying pace. He found himself thinking, They aren’t so bad… It's so warm in here. Maybe if I- He forced himself out of it. 

He shrugged Janie’s hands off and stood up to face them. Clenching his fists, he was resigned to his next words being his last. “Go to Hell. Both of you.” 

With a quick sharp pain, he went to sleep.

He woke up at the fork feeling light and calm. Daisy ran to greet him. He held her ghostly figure tightly against his own, relieved that they were together again. There also waiting for him was the woman from the shed, whose name he learned was Evelyn.

So, if you’re ever walking in the Weary woods, and you come to the fork, go left. If you don’t, you’ll surely feel a cold chill and a sense of dread- courtesy of Mr. Philips, his brave dog, Daisy, and Evelyn.