Head for home
The forest shadows deepen as the sun retreats from sight. An autumn chill follows you, but there is no breeze. With all the excitement and rushing, you stop to double-check your bearings when the sound of footfalls behind you breaks the quiet. You know no one is there but feed your curiosity with a glance, to be sure. No one.
And yet, a shape coalesces out of shadow. A figure stands on the path, glowing eyes staring. You stare back out of disbelief, but when the shadow takes a step forward, your legs fire into action. You run.
You’re unsure if you went the correct way. Too late to worry about it now. Putting distance between you and the shadow is your only concern. If that’s even possible.
A light flickers among the trees. Car headlights? But you’re not yet by the road, and there’s no sound of engines. Your heart pounds and now your head does as well. You double over in pain from the headache. The trail seems to spin, and you lean against a tree, waiting for it to pass. But icy hands wrap around your neck. You weakly try to break free but are held by an ever-tightening grip. Before consciousness drifts away, you turn your head to see your attacker. All you can observe in your last moments are glowing eyes.
You recall that someone told you to avoid walking the woods alone. There were reports—fanciful tales—of the Abigail Woods Spook, a phantom that stalks hikers.