Jones Woods is an often forgotten, neglected region of Staten Island. It's forgotten for a reason: there are myriad horrors living in these woods, horrors unfathonable to human minds, unspeakable to human tongues. They've been confined to these woods by ancient rituals of binding, but as development of the neighborhood continues, the woods grow smaller and smaller.
Until someone of great courage eraticates the horrors for good.
If they can survive long enough.
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"I met a traveler along the road,
The kind that can steal your heart.
The kind with bright eyes and a warm smile,
And words as sweet as honey.
'Suckle this drink my friend, you look parched!'
He proclaimed, passing his skein,
'And may your throat be never dry,
'Til the day we both are dead!'
I drank deep, in gratitude,
as wine as sweet as honey
Dripped from the corner of my mouth
And to the cleft of my chin.
'And now,' he said, his eyes turning cold,
'I'll take all that you have.
In barter! A trade! My antidote,
For the poison that you just drank.'
My vision failed, and my fingers siezed,
This wine as smooth as honey
Suckled on my own life force,
As he took all of my money.
He left me a vial, and a small paper slip
Thanking me for my time,
And if I should ever get my purse back,
He'd laugh there all the while.
I found his home, deep in the wood,
And found it with a fright,
Only there was a headstone
With my purse. And a note.
I know not what that man was,
Or from whence he traveled.
But I left that purse, as a binding curse,
And now he travels no more."
-Excerpt from The Beastiary of Unspeakable Horrors
FTF: Zach J
STF: Ukipiper
TTF: Rant