Creative fun in
the palm of your hand.
Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2210744-Masked-Desires
Rated: 18+ · Short Story · Horror/Scary · #2210744
A chilling little tale about friends and family...
SCREAMS!!! Entry 1/20/19
Prompt: Stumbling across a dark secret in the woods
876 words

“You shouldn’t be going into the woods in January. I was reading about a girl who disappeared in the woods just yesterday! It’s dangerous to go out alone, especially in winter…” Julia said. My sister was always worrying about me.

“So what if I die? I’ve always been curious about death. It’s not like anyone would miss me. I don’t have any friends. Put me out of my misery, mother nature!” I told her with a crooked smile.

“Aaaagh! Don’t even joke about that, Mel!” Julia replied, exasperated.

“Chillax, sis. I know what I’m doing.”

An hour later, I was pulling my snowshoes out of the car, throwing them on the ground, and clamping them on at the trailhead.

I began to walk in the bowlegged gait that the snowshoes necessitated, putting in my Bluetooth headphones then losing myself in the enjoyment of the woods—accompanied by a nice goth pop soundtrack.

After another hour, I saw tracks in the snow. Who the hell was out here? No one came all the way out here but me!

I followed the tracks, pulling off my headphones. I wanted all of my senses available as I approached whoever this was.

As it turned out, it was a whole group of whoevers. I approached quietly, the soft crunches of the snow barely audible under my feet. There were eleven of them in a circle with some kind of mutilated carcass in the middle. They all wore grotesque ebony masks, absent of any other decoration.

Those masks didn’t look Native American. What was this? Some kind of cult sacrificing animals in the woods?

I felt one black gloved hand reach across my mouth and another grab me just under the ribcage. Oh, God! Was this one of them? What were they going to do to me? Terror ripped across every nerve cell in my body, and I ceased to think. I simply reacted.

I screamed, but it was so muffled as to be useless, serving only to garner the attention of a few of the distant masked cultists. I struggled in my attacker’s grip, kicking my legs with all of my strength. I couldn’t move my arms, as they were locked in place by the stranger’s iron hold. Nothing seemed to loosen his grip. His clench grew inexorably stronger as I struggled.

My captor crept slowly toward the rest of the group, despite my squirming, struggling form. A moment later, he came to a halt before the tallest member of the veiled group. I was breathing heavily through my partially covered nose, its wheezing rasp the only thing my ears could detect at the moment. I was too winded from my desperate struggles to do much until I caught my breath. Exhaustion and hopelessness mutated my desperate terror into a solid brick of dread, which settled in the pit of my stomach as the leader of the group turned to me.

“Have your secret desire granted by the mask or die,” he said simply.

The hand over my mouth pulled away. I considered screaming, but I was right in the middle of these people now, and their leader had just threatened my life. I decided that it wasn’t my best option. Given the two other choices I had—those so succinctly by this cultist dude—option A was looking damn attractive. Wear a mask? It sure beat certain death.

“I’ll go with the mask, I guess.” I mean, WTF, right? I wasn’t going to choose death, despite what I’d told my sister.

The man pulled a mask from somewhere inside his heavy black jacket and placed it on my face. I felt a wretched chill as the cold metallic surface of the molded object touched the naked flesh of my cheeks and forehead. It had no strap, yet it clung mysteriously to my skin. A queer sensation throbbed into my face from under the wicked thing as it became part of me.

My vision, rimmed by the darkness of the mask, saw eleven friends. The steely grip around me disappeared. I whirled to see another friend. I hugged him, pulling his body to mine hungrily. I delighted in the warm, pleasant sensation of our bodies touching, connecting.

I spent the rest of the day with my new friends, confiding my most intimate secrets in them. The mask and their companionship gave me the freedom to be my true self. I reveled in the sensation, like a baby bird taking flight for the first time.

I fell asleep in the woods as darkness fell, in a circle with the others.

I awoke to a morning scream. A hooded girl my size was in the center of the circle. My strong friend, the one whom I had hugged, held her. The leader sliced a knife across her throat, transforming her scream to a gurgle.

A phone fell out of her pocket as she struggled. A crimson circle, stark against the whiteness of the snow, grew ever larger beneath her.

“She chose death,” the leader said as her struggles ceased. My strong friend dropped her in the center of the red snow.

I picked up the phone. There were a series of texts sent to the same person over the last twelve hours. The last one said, “I’m coming after you, Mel.”

I looked at each dark figure under the mask’s shadow. I didn’t care. I was a new person. I was free. I had friends now.
© Copyright 2020 HikerAngel (hikerangel at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates have been granted non-exclusive rights to display this work.
Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2210744-Masked-Desires