When after 20 years I revisited my old birth place, even if it would be just for a few days, not much has changed. The old pub my dad used to go every night still had those ugly wooden windows but the owner changed and they were selling Italian food now. The tailor’s shop my mother worked in for over 50 years has become a store that sells all kind of electronic junk. I remembered the little toy store I loved at a child. It was owned by a friendly old Italian guy called Frederico who must have died several years ago. Now the store is lead by his daughter Felicitas who turned it into a luxury fashion boutique that was selling quite expensive clothing. As my little nostalgic tour continued I came by our old house. When my father got a job offer in Asia my parents left the country when I was 18 years old. I decided to stay and continue my studies. There was a light burning in the living room and I saw shadows moving behind a white curtain. “I hope the new owners treat the house well” I thought and I stood in front of the door thinking about ringing the doorbell. I didn’t do it. I went on, the hotel I was about to stay in was built quite recently on a little hill at the edge of the town. You could see the old forest my childhood friends and I used to play in, even though our parents had forbidden it several times.
We gave our selves the rather awkward name “The Bear Gang” and our symbol was a little, cheap medallion with a bear on it. I still have mine somewhere in my home. There was Peter who could be called the leader of our gang, Marco a thin and pale looking boy who might have had the most courage of us all and last but not least there was Jenny. Jenny was a little chubby but she had the face of an angel I thought back. I had a crush on her but I never took the courage to tell her. I decided after I got rid of my luggage, that I would take a little hike through the old forest. When we were kids the old forest became a place of great stories and imagination. The holes in the trees we thought were homes to little pixies, the blowing sound of the wind, to us was the cries of ghosts and spirits unseeingly flying through the leaves. Five minutes into the forest the pathway got thinner and on the horizon you could see the old witch’s hut that in reality probably was nothing more than a shed woodworkers used to use. But even without the childish imagination the wooden shed still had some creepiness to it.
I decided to head back as something unexpected and to me rather scary happened. A wild boar was standing on the pathway not more than five meters away. Slowly I backed up towards the old shed always keeping an eye on the boar, that luckily didn’t seem to care about me. The old door to the shed stood slightly open and then I did something that in hindsight I wished I would have never done. I went in the shed. It smelled mostly of chipped wood and there was another smell I couldn’t quite put my finger on. It was dark inside and I couldn’t find a light switch so I got my smartphone and turned on the light. I let out a short scream as I suddenly saw a full, real human skeleton, not quite an adult from its size, in the middle of the room. Horror changed to curiosity but then curiosity quickly changed to a deep state of sorrow as I discovered a little medallion next to the skeleton. It had a bear on it and on it’s back it said “Jennifer Cole”. “Jenny” I murmured silently and kneeled besides the skeleton. “What happened?”
Then I heard voices coming from outside and I started to shiver over my whole body. I carefully peaked out the window and as I could not yet see any persons and decided to leaf the shed and hide behind a large tree. After a few moments a group of five people became visible. An old lady who could actually be an old witch and four figures dressed in dark red coats with hoods over there faces. The four hooded beings were carrying a young boy of maybe 13 or 14 years of age. They brought the boy inside the shed. The old hag-like woman followed last and she would close the door.
Then I heard them sing what sounded like chants in a strange tongue. It sounded old but it was not Latin, also it did not sound like like Greece or Hebrew or in whatever language old church songs might be sung in. I should leaf I thought but something held me in place and then after several minutes of singing they repeatedly chanted a word that sounded like “Zarash, Zarash, Zarash” and I cannot tell what happened but I will never forget the sudden scream of horror and pain coming from inside the shed followed by a ghostly silent that was only interrupted by the ongoing “Zarash” chants.
I ran away as fast as could, not thinking about any boars or other wild animal I might bump into. Back in town I needed to talk to someone but when I tried to tell the lady of the hotel reception about my story she would just ignore it and continue with something else.
I also went to the police to tell them about what I witnessed but as soon as took the word “forest” in my mouth they would all turn away and they would all say. “Do not talk about the forest, the forest does not exist, forget about the forest” and then they would not continue to speak with me about this topic.
This was well over a year ago and I’m long back in the city I live in now. But sometimes when I lay awake in bed I would still think about Jenny’s skeleton and I would still think about that horrible scream.