It was a cold winter evening, and the wind whistled through the

woods. The force of the gale had completely blotted out the suns warmth,
until it was a mere shadow of its usual glorious heat, nothing but a pale and
distant orb in the sky. The trees swayed to and fro in the wind. The day-long
snowfall had stopped, but its outcome was visible in the almost even layer of
pristine, undisturbed snow, as far as the eye could see. These were the
conditions when I ventured out for my daily stroll through the woods. Not
being someone daunted by the weather, I bundled myself in layers of
sweaters and jackets and elected to continue onwards, rather than take
refuge in my cabin. It had been an utterly dull and dreary day, and I wanted
to do something, anything really, that would at least prevent it from being a
complete waste.
I lived all by my lonesome self, in the woods surrounding the foothills of a
mountain range, fulfilling the role of a reclusive but uber-talented artist,
whose work had been showcased in numerous art galleries throughout the
country. It was not completely a desolate existence, I had my work, which I
enjoyed, and all the luxuries of life one could expect to obtain in such a
place, from a small town nearby. Every two or three weeks, I went there for
supplies, and any amenities I required. The lack of human company did not
bother me much, as I was a loner at heart, only socializing when forced to do
so by the circumstances. I much preferred the company of nature to the
company of man, at least nature was openly wild, brutal and uncontained,
man was all that too, but pretended to be civilized.
And so on that evening, I wandered
about, contemplating on the harsh but
serene vista before me: trees upon
trees, stately conifers and with their
snow-clad branches; the shrubs with an
icing of white snow; the rare patch of
grass that had remained uncovered
despite the snowstorm; the majestic,
smoky-blue backdrop of the mountains
and above it all, the lavender sky with
pink, red and yellow hues of another
days sunset. This was why I lived right
at the border between the wild
woodland and the human civilization:
the panoramic scenery before me that
could never be outclassed by any forest of glass, concrete and steel of the
urban jungle.
Light fades fast in the valley and so soon I had to make my way back to the
cabin. As I was returning, I noticed the tracks of an ATV. Unconcerned, I
continued onwards as the area was popular with hikers and campers who

often used ATVs to take them to the trails up the mountain. Only a few feet
later however, I found the ATV parked haphazardly in the snow and all sorts
of camping equipment and supplies strewn about. I started carefully
examining the scene for any clues to what might have happened there, and
immediately found tracks leading further into the woods. I hastened my
steps to follow the trail, which had by now acquired drops of blood,
gruesomely scarlet against the white snow. Just as I was rounding a corner of
dense foliage, I heard a single, terrified scream.