I hated going into the forest. I had avoided them ever since Tommy disappeared when we were five. Yet, there I was, cutting through the woods to avoid being late to school.

The trees cracked and squeaked as the wind blew a smell of mildew and decay in my face. I tried to avoid the fallen dead leaves as I walked.

It was cold that morning, colder than usual for October. I perked my head, and there he was, sure as rain. Staring at me with his cold, hollow, empty eyes. I gasped, looking away. When I looked back, he wasn’t there anymore. 

I hurried forward, down a slick downward slope. Suddenly, there was a loud crack behind me.