Read an Excerpt from Deep in the Hollow:
Prologue
July
11, 1972
Once again I’ve
fallen prey to MaryAnn’s pleading, and I follow her out the window, my stomach
churning with dread, a contrast to her excitement. I don’t know why I let her
talk me into these things. She’s always getting us into trouble, has been since
we were little. Yet, here I am, still following her after seven years of
mistake after mistake. There’s something about her I can’t say no to. I’ve
always thought of her as my sister, not my cousin, and considering we were born
only two days apart, we are more like sisters—look like it too. But still, even
sisters tell each other no every once in a while. Not me. This time though, I
should have.
Our tiny
flashlights give off little light in the dark forest, mine unsteady as it
shakes in my hand. Thorns scrape at my skin and I look back, hoping to see a
light in the cabin on and my grandfather coming out to see where us girls have
run off to. No such luck. The small, two-bedroom cedar cabin is dark, its frame
nothing but an outline against the trees around it.
“I think we
should go back,” I whisper, my voice trembling.
“Will you quit
whining, Ester? This is no different than walking through the woods during the
daylight.”
I beg to differ.
During the day, the green leaves look welcoming, not over-powering and creepy
like now. I don’t feel trapped and afraid when walking these familiar woods
when the sun is shining bright, but now I do.
“But, MaryAnn,
grandpa said—”
“He was just
trying to scare you,” she hisses, as she shines her light on a raccoon
scavenging for food. It rushes off to hide from what he perceives as danger and
we continue on through the thicket.
No matter what
MaryAnn says, I know she’s wrong. I saw the fear in our grandfather’s eyes as
he told us the story of the thing that haunts these woods. MaryAnn had been
enthralled as she sat by the fire, her eyes bright, her body unmoving as she
absorbed every word. I had been terrified. Our grandfather has never been a
skeptical man, always saying rumors and legends are nonsense. “What you don’t
see with your eyes, don’t witness with your mouth.” So to see the fear in his
eyes as he witnessed the story he told us tonight is enough to convince me he
was telling the truth, and not just some tale to scare his grandchildren.
An owl hoots
overhead and a chill slowly creeps up my back, making me shiver.
“I think we
should wait. I don’t have a good feeling about this.”
MaryAnn ignores
my pleas, knowing I won’t go back alone.
The leaves
rustle as a slight wind picks up. I can no longer see the outline of the cabin.
I don’t know if it’s from my fear, but our lights seem to grow dimmer, making
the darkness feel as if it is weighing down on us.
A small clearing
comes into view, with timber laying hazardously along the ground.
“We are almost
there,” MaryAnn whispers. “This is where grandpa and his workers have been logging
close to the overlook.”
Good. Once we
reach the overlook and she sees it is the same during the night as it is during
the day, we can go back to the safety of the cabin. I can already feel the
relief of being back under my blankets, eagerly waiting for morning, with the
fresh smell of biscuits baking in the oven and bacon frying in the pan filling
the air.
Whoosh.
“What was that?”
I ask, panicked, and spin around in a circle, my flashlight shaking with more
force.
“Ester, please
stop this nonsense. I’m sure it was nothing.”
Once on the
other side of the clearing, we start the mile hike up the incline and once
again I wish we had stuck to the main road instead of taking the shorter path
through the woods. The ground is slick from the rain we had yesterday, and with
every step I take, I lose two as I slide back down.
MaryAnn grabs my
hand, steadying me, as we both use our weight to climb the impossible hill.
Whoosh.
“Did you hear
that?” she asks, her voice a bit higher than before.
I close my eyes,
my stomach tensing. She better not be playing any games with me. I will rat her
out in a heartbeat if she is.
“Yes. What do
you think it is?”
Before she can
answer, a strange mist builds in front of us. I examine it closely and point it
out to MaryAnn, but before it takes on a shape, it’s gone.
Whoosh. Whoosh.
Whoosh.
A strong wind
spins around us, and not caring about what MaryAnn thinks, I let go of her hand
and tumble back down the hill, scared for my life. My feet are unsteady as the
land levels out again and I fall over a log. Seconds later, MaryAnn lands on
top of me.
“Come on!” she
screams, terror in her voice. “We have to get back to the cabin.”
“What did you
see?” I demand, as I race after her, dodging fallen limbs. But she doesn’t
answer. She keeps running, looking back to make sure that I am close behind her.
A strong force
comes from behind me and I’m shoved into MaryAnn’s back, making us both lose
our footing.
Whoosh.
Tears pour down
my face as we scramble to our feet, our flashlights lost in the darkness. We
try our hardest to run through the darkness with no light to guide our way.
MaryAnn grabs my hand, our sweaty fingers clinging as tightly as they can while
we try to make out where we are.
When MaryAnn
screams, her body jerked away from me, I feel as if I can’t breathe. Something
is trying to take her from me. My grip on her hand tightens, my small twelve
year old frame pulling as hard as possible against whatever is trying to tug
her away.
A movement
behind her catches my eye as we struggle, but I can’t make out who or what it
is. It’s shrouded in a black cloak, practically invisible under the blanket of
night. I do make out the grey mist behind it, as if it’s drifting and waiting
for its prey.
My heart thrums,
feeling as if it’s trying to escape out of my chest, and my throat grows tight
as I choke on my tears. MaryAnn screams, begging me not to let go of her, as
our fingers begin to slip.
Why can no one
hear us? We have to be close to the cabin.
A sharp pain
explodes in the back of my head, and I pitch forward, disoriented. My legs slip
out from beneath me, and I can feel myself losing consciousness. MaryAnn’s
fingers slip out of mine as I land against the damp leaves on the ground. The
last thing I hear is her pleading for me to save her.
