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Stan was holding Jean’s shoulder as he told his tale, “…And to this day, no one knows where the Scrabbling Claws are.” He paused, let go of Jean, and began to pat down the front of his puffy blue coat with confusion written on his face. “Oh God…NO!” He screamed as a pale white hand burst from his collar and grabbed his neck. Jean jumped up and screamed, the sound echoed in the silent snow covered forest. The blond haired man next to her was rolling in the snow laughing as his own hand clutched at his throat.
She flicked her black hair over her shoulder and brushed some snow from her brown parka. “Grow up, Stan.” She kicked her friend playfully in the ribs, and then dragged him back into the flickering circle of firelight. The warm glow illuminated four hunched figures, three of which were shaking with laughter, and the glint of reflected light gleamed off the four small tents that sat twenty feet from the fire.
One of the hunched figures stopped laughing as he stood up and threw off a blanket that was crusted with snow. “I’ve got one.”
All the others groaned, and one of them spoke out in an accent laden with history, “Ah, come on, Alex, no one wants ta hear about yer ‘eadless Lumberjack again.”
Alex sat with a frown crossing his pale face as his eyes glittered in the firelight. As he pulled his blanket from the snow, he faked indignation. “Fine, Joe. But mine is better than that ‘man with the hook’ crap you come up with.”
The girl sitting beside Joe quickly rose to his defense. “That story is classic, Alex. Besides, every time Joe tells it, it gets better.”
Joe pulled his friend into a warm hug, and his long, curly red hair meshed with her brown locks as they smiled at each other, “Thank yeh Rebecca.”
“I have one.” The voice was barely a whisper, but everyone looked up. The speaker was the last and most unique member of the group, Anne. She and Alex were the only ones who were sleeping alone, but Alex wasn’t alone by choice, his date had had to cancel. Anne, however, had chosen to come alone, and her tent was a good indicator of her relationship to the group; it was a good twelve feet from all the others. The only reason that Anne had come was because the others pressed her into joining after they found that she had never camped before. She brushed her blonde-dyed-black hair from where it hung over her eyes to behind her ear and repeated herself. “I have one.” Her voice was still just a whisper, scarcely audible above the sounds of the night and the crackle of the fire.
Jean smiled, “Go ahead, Anne, we’d love to hear it.”
Stan frowned at Jean, “We would?” Jean flashed a smile at Anne and drove an elbow into Stan’s side. He grunted then nodded, “I mean, yeah, we would.”
Alex smiled and waved a hand in the air as if cracking a whip, “Whatish!”
Anne nodded and smiled. Rebecca shivered, but not from the cold. It was the way that Anne had just smiled, it was sinister, almost evil, and in the flickering fire, it seemed as if her teeth had become fangs. Anne brushed her hair from in front of her eyes again and began to speak in the same whispered tone, “This is called ‘Window’”
“The year is 1999 in Freshport, Colorado. But the story isn’t set in the town, it’s set in the institution on the outskirts. This is the tale of Martin Gats. Martin was institutionalized because of delusions and violent outbursts. They placed him in a cell with another inmate, and strapped him to the bed. All Martin could do was turn his head to the left,” Anne turned her head to the left, “and the right.” She turned her head to the right. “That’s all. He could only see the doors to his cell, the cold stone ceiling, featureless except for cracks, and his cellmate’s bed, where he too, was strapped tightly.”
“The cellmate introduced himself as Buddy. Buddy and Martin had so much in common; they liked the same things and agreed on almost everything. But there was one thing about Buddy that Martin didn’t like. Buddy had a window. A small, dirty window facing the town next to his bed, and Buddy would tell Martin of all the wonderful things he could see. Oh, how Martin wanted to look out that window, but Buddy was in the way. Martin despised Buddy for being there, if he was gone, he could look out the window. Every day, for every moment that Buddy told him about the wonderful sights outside, Martin wished him dead. He wished him dead because Buddy could see the world and he couldn’t. He could only see the doors to his cell, the cold stone ceiling, featureless except for cracks, and Buddy’s body, strapped to the bed.”
Anne paused, brushed her hair out of her eyes, and took a sip from the hot chocolate she had at her feet. Her seemingly black irises darted from person to person; Alex was lounging, bored and interested at the same time, against one of the logs that formed a ring around the fire, Joe and Rebecca were still holding each other, hanging on her every word, Jean and Stan had moved around the fire so as to hear her whispery voice; Stan’s eyes were following a trail similar to hers as he checked the reactions of his friends, and Jean was leaning forward, waiting for her to continue. Anne brushed her hair from her eyes again and continued.
“Then one day, one of the attendants broke a cup as he was feeding Martin. Martin quickly palmed the sharp shard. When the man had left, he began to cut through his straps. It was tiring and Martin soon stopped. But then Buddy awoke and began to describe the beautiful day outside. Fueled by hate for his best friend and only confidant, Martin attacked the straps with new energy. After an hour, Buddy fell asleep and Martin was free. He slipped quietly over to his friend’s bed and raised the shard of porcelain high; he would finally look out the window. He drove his arm down and blood sprayed up. Buddy screamed, and Martin laughed. The guards came running and soon had Martin strapped into his bed again. Buddy’s body was taken away. Martin laughed, even though all he could do was turn his head to the left,” Anne turned her head to the left, “where he could see the doors to his cell. Look straight up,” she looked forward, “and see the cold stone ceiling, featureless except for cracks. And look to the right,” Anne turned her head to the right, “where he could see the cold stone wall, featureless except for cracks, a few dripping spots of blood, and a drawing scratched into the wall; a drawing in the shape of a small window.” Anne brushed her hair from her eyes, smiled the same sinister smile as before, sat down on the log, crossed her legs, and sipped her hot chocolate.
A log in the fire popped loudly and everyone but Anne jumped. Joe spoke up as he held Rebecca close, “Jesus, Anne. What in ta name o’ God ‘elped you think up sumtan’ so dark?”
Then Alex shivered, and he pulled his blanket up around himself. “I’m gonna turn in. I hate psych horror.”
Jean had clutched Stan’s arm tightly at the end, and her nails had left five indentations in his wrist. He rubbed them out, and then stood up. “Alright, I’m freaked. I’m with Alex. Let’s put out the fire and hit the sack.”
Stan piled some snow on the fire and waited as the light faded, then went out. As he took out his flashlight, he started, Anne’s eyes were catching the moonlight and reflecting it back; her eyes looked as if they were shining in the dark. He shook his head, helped Jean out of the snow, and headed for their tent.
When everyone else had returned to their shelters, Anne still sat by the dead fire. She smiled her sinister smile and laughed. The sound echoed off the peaceful trees and disappeared into the night.

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The forest was sleepy and silent, covered in a shroud of snow and frost. The moonlight pierced through the large clearings that had been formed by the loss of leaves and glittered off the snow. The branches of trees reached up with skinny fingers of wood to claw the moon, angered at the loss of their green coverings. The cold wind blew through the woods, unhindered by the absence of leaves that had previously prevented its flight in the summer. The chilling current of air didn’t stop the nightbirds from flying, searching for prey that hid under the freshly fallen snow.
The snow was deep and unbroken, its surface a frosty plain of white crystals. It would stay pristine until spring, when it would melt. The water created from the snow’s passing would fill the stream that it held captive to overflowing. The water would flow over the banks and form a swampy area in the middle of the forest.
The stream was still, trapped in time by the cryogenic clutch of the winter cold. Ripples froze where they were the moment they had been touched by winter’s dread chill. Twigs sat frozen in the ice that had once been water, each was an Excalibur, waiting to be pulled from its stone. The stream waited for spring, when it would flow once more, it longed to fill the dead silence of the frozen forest with the sound of water rushing and falling over the rocks that lined its bed.
The forest was filled with only the sound of winter, a whistle of the wind and the scratch of dead trees clawing at one another. A bird called into the night, hoping for a companion, to be with another in the dead of winter. The bird was answered only with an echo, a version of itself twisted by time and distance. The bird took wing and flew into the night, searching for an area with more life than the forest, which was dead in the winter.
But the forest was not dead, it was filled with life. But not the life of animals. It was filled with the life of six teenaged humans. They sat in a clearing around a large fire that had melted away a patch of the snow to expose grass beneath the chilling crust. Three tents sat in a cluster away from the fire, while a fourth had isolated itself from the rest. The life of humans was an odd sensation for the forest; it had not had visitors for a long time.
Five of the humans stood up and one of them extinguished the fire. Darkness descended upon the clearing, and then a beam of light shot forth, one of the males was holding an electric light. All of the humans began to move to their shelters, except for one. It was a female with black hair and black clothes. She tilted her head backwards and laughed, it echoed off the woods and bounced back, but wasn’t twisted by the echo. If anything, the time and distance had improved the sound, made it more human. The forest did not like this girl. She gave off an unnatural feeling, the feeling of death. The forest turned its attention from her to the tents. Inside the first tent, a blue and red structure of insulated fiber, one of the humans shivered.

Stan shivered and pulled Jean close as he zipped up the red and blue tent. He ran a hand through her golden-black hair and smiled, she was warm, a beacon of life in the frozen forest.
Jean shivered and hugged him tightly. “Anne was kind of creepy tonight.”
Stan chuckled and nodded, his blonde hair shaking, “You mean creepier than usual?”
Jean pulled out of his hug, “Stan, Anne isn’t as weird as you make her out to be. She’s just different.”
Stan laughed and brushed his hair away from his face. “You’ve got that right, she’s definitely different.” He smiled and brushed Jean’s hair again. “Why’d she come with us, anyway?”
Jean sighed and punched him lightly in the shoulder, “Anne needs us, she needs to be around people, it’ll help her.”
Stan just shrugged. “Whatever. She’s just weird and I really don’t like her.” Jean shook her head and then sneezed. Stan frowned. “You might be catching a cold. I told you to wear another layer under your coat.”
Jean frowned and sneezed again. “What are you, my mother? I’ll be fine, it’s just allergies-” she sneezed again.
Stan cracked his neck. “Allergies? In winter? No way. Jean, we still have a week out here, and you’re very susceptible to the cold.”
Jean shook her head, “Look, I’ll be fine. It’s not like I’ll die if I get a little chilly.”

I shook my black hair out of my face and frowned. Stan was getting protective again. I hate it when he does this; it makes me feel like a child. I’m nineteen for god’s sake.
“Look, I’m just saying, if you get sick, it’ll make me feel horrible.” Stan was looking at me with his deer eyes. They were so cute; big and round, just like a little fawn. He was tall and blonde, and very nice. The only flaws he had, in my eyes, at least, were that he was very over protective, and extremely jealous. He wanted to protect me from the world. If a little boy had a toy gun pointed at me, I have no doubt that Stan would beat the [censored] out of him. If that same little boy apologized for pointing his toy at me and presented me with a heart-shaped ‘sorry’ card, I’m sure that Stan would jealously beat the [censored] out of him again.
“Oh?” I asked coyly, “And why would you feel horrible?”
He smiled and blinked his big, round eyes twice, “Because I encouraged you to come on this trip…” Sometimes he sounded like a child, and now was one of those times. It did annoy me, but occasionally, I just loved it. He was so cute and innocent. If he had murdered someone in front of me and then showed those eyes and spoke in that tone, I’d believe he was innocent.
I slid into my sleeping bag and smiled. “Fine. Tomorrow I’ll wear another layer. Now can we sleep?”
Stan smiled and slid into the sleeping bag that lay on the floor of the tent next to me. “Sure. Tomorrow I’ll start the fire up again and make some eggs.”
I laughed. “No, you won’t. I’ll make the eggs. You remember what happened last time?”
Stan laughed. “I apologized to your mother for that pan, and I paid for the ceiling. Besides, how was I supposed to know that nonstick spray was flammable? It said it was inflammable.”
I laughed and wrapped my arms around him. “Night.”
He smiled and clicked off the battery powered lantern that sat in the middle of the tent. Moonlight spilled through the tent and illuminated everything in a dull blue glow. It was very pretty, and I soon fell asleep.

The forest liked that pair of humans, they were very close, they were loving and caring. The forest turned to the next tent, a green construct with a shamrock on the sides. It had only one person inside it currently, but a second was heading towards it. The one inside was female, and she was writing in her diary.


Dear diary,
Hello, my friend, from the snowy woods just outside of town. Today was a different day. My friends, Jean, Joe, Alex, Stan, and I departed yesterday for a week long camping trip. Anne too, she came along with us. Jean invited her and insisted that we be nice. I try my best, but she creeps me out now. She changed since Jr. High. I remember when she was one of my best friends. She was blonde then, and she was one of the peppiest people you’d ever meet. You couldn’t tell that from looking at her now, though. She’s dyed her hair black, and never wears any other colors than red and black. It’s really creepy how she’s withdrawn into herself and…
Anywho, this isn’t about Anne. This is about me! You, my diary, aren’t the place for my dark feelings, you’re the place for happy things, like puppies and flowers and kittens and sunshine! Oh, god, reading that last line just shows what happens when I let myself go. I need to work on keeping my hyper tendencies controlled, like when I’m with Joe. Joe seems to calm me down. A lot. As I mentioned before, he’s from Ireland, and his accent always makes me giggle. He can’t say the letter ‘h’ and it’s just so different from the way that Americans talk. I do feel kind of bad for Alex though, Eve had to cancel and Alex is alone for the week, like Anne. Hey! That’s an idea! What if I manage to hook Anne up with Alex? No, that’d never work. Anne’s crazy. Besides, Alex loves Eve way too much to leave her. I’ll write more later, Joe just came back into the tent. Bye!
--Rebecca

Rebecca hid her diary under her sleeping bag as Joe walked in. His red hair was rolling behind him down to his neck, where it stopped. He smiled, “’ello, Rebecca. Anyt’ing I ken do fer yeh?”
Rebecca smiled and tossed her brown hair over her shoulder. “No, I’m fine. How’s Alex doing?”
Joe smiled, Rebecca was always worried about her friends, something he found to be a very attractive trait. He shrugged and nodded, “Oh, ‘e’s doin fine, lass, jest a lil’ bummed ‘bout Eve, dat’s all.”
Rebecca slipped fully into her sleeping bag and nodded. “I really think it’s sad that Eve had to go at the last minute. Alex was really looking forward to this trip with her.”
Joe slipped into the green sleeping bag on the ground next to Rebecca. “Yea, it be a cryin shame for ‘im to be spendin the nite alone, but t’ers not a ting to do about it.”
Rebecca smiled and switched off the electric lantern in the center of the tent. Moonlight streamed in and the whole tent filled with a soft blue light. “Ooh, look at that…” She breathed, “Nature is so beautiful…”
Joe put an arm around his friend and nodded. “Aye, but she can but ‘old a mere candle to you, dearie.”
Rebecca laughed and kissed him lightly, “That’s so sweet… Thank you Joe.”
Her friend returned the kiss, then laughed, “It be time for us to go ta bed, lass. Neit’er one o’ us is good tempered in ta mornin.”

The forest turned its attention from the green tent to the third felt structure in the cluster, a yellow tent housing a single person, male. The man was asleep. If the forest had had a face it would have frowned, it had wanted to hear what the fifth human had to say. The forest turned away from the yellow felt and looked over to the maroon tent that sat away from the group. The aura around the tent was fluctuating, first smooth and calm then jagged and irate, while the tents in the group gave off a soothing pulse of peace. The maroon tent held two people, both female. No, the forest corrected itself, one person. The forest felt uneasy, something was wrong with this girl, something very wrong.

The tent was dark as Anne sat in the center, alone. She brushed her black hair out of her eyes, “I don’t understand what you’re moaning about. You had your chance.”
Anne flicked her head and her long blonde hair flew over her shoulder. “I just don’t like it. You’re dark now. Completely different from me.”
Anne smiled sinisterly and her eyes flared, “Exactly. And that’s why you kept me caged for eighteen years, but now it is my chance to live. You will be imprisoned while I am free. You will know the pain I endured, you will suffer.”
Anne wailed and her blonde hair flowed behind her, “Please, I’m begging you, let me out. I love life, but you hate it. I love my friends, but you drove them away. Why can’t you let me be happy?”
“Shut up!” Anne snarled and lashed out with her right hand, it was holding a small razor blade, and when it struck, Anne screamed.
A large gash on her wrist oozed blood. Her blonde hair hung around her face as a few tears dripped from her blue eyes, she whimpered, “w-why did you do that… it...it hurts…”
Anne smiled and licked the blood from her arm as she laughed, “Exactly. Your pain is my pleasure…”
Anne spat the taste of blood from her mouth in disgust, “How can you do this? I lived with you, I trusted you, and I loved you-”
Anne slashed out with the blade again, “You caged me! I was a nuisance to you, the secret you hid, and hoped your friends would never find. But they found me, Anne, and look how much your friends love the new you!” She slashed out with the blade again and again until blood ran down her arm. She laughed as she brushed her black hair out of her eyes, “I feel so alive!”
Anne stumbled from her tent; the snow chilled her bare feet as the wind whipped her blonde hair around her face. Blood dripped from her arm and stained the snow around her. She headed into the peaceful forest, trying to escape. As she ran, the blood made a long trail behind her, a scarlet river in a pearl world. She became light headed and the world began to spin. The ground in front of her shimmered like a mirage. She smiled, she no longer felt cold, and she was warm. The trees turned into hands, clawing at her trying to pull her into an embrace that she could never escape. She turned and ran, blonde hair flowing behind her, a stream of gold to match the stream of ruby that flowed from her arm. She tripped over a root that stood above the ground, and she rolled, landing on her back. The snow around her was staining, turning red, but her gaze was on the sky, the tiny points of light that glared down at her, the stars. Several of them twinkled, the form of a lion. She smiled, Leo. Some more twinkled, Draco. She laughed; she could see how the ancients saw constellations. The moon was huge. It looked as if all she had to do was reach up and pluck it out of the sky. She stretched her left arm up to grab the shining orb, but something wet dripped into her face. She looked at her arm in confusion. It was pouring blood. She frowned and reached up with her other hand to wipe the blood away. Her right hand held a small razor blade. She made a small sound and dropped the blade. It caught the moonlight and sparkled as it fell into the snow. She reached up for the moon again, ignoring the drops that splashed her face. For some reason, she felt as if when she reached the moon, everything would be okay. It would help, the moon. She needed the moon. But it was just out of her reach. Anne stretched some more. Just a little further and everything would be all right.
“You’re dying.” She looked up, it was Anne, her black hair waving in the wind. “It’s not too bad. We just need to stop the blood. Then we’ll be fine. I’ll wait and heal tonight, and then tomorrow, I’ll have some more fun. Come on, there’s some bandages in the tent.”
Anne got up, her black nightgown fluttering in the wind. She put her hand over the cuts on her arm. “Come on, now.” She began to follow the trail of crimson back to her tent.
“Tomorrow…” Anne whispered, her blonde hair falling in front of her eyes, “No…”
Anne laughed, her black nightgown and hair waving in the wind, “Yes. Tomorrow.” She laughed again, “And there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”
Anne turned, and her blonde hair trailed behind her. “There’s one thing I can do!” Her hand closed around the razor that was lying in the snow. She whirled and lunged at Anne.
As her black hair fell over her eyes, Anne stumbled backward until she hit a tree. Her hand reached up to feel the blade in her throat. Blood ran down her arms and stained her black nightgown. “You…you’ve…killed…us both…” Blood gurgled in her throat and she coughed. Blood sprayed in a fine mist from her mouth. Anne keeled over and fell on her side in the snow. Her red blood rapidly stained the cold white crystals, and her eyes rolled upwards. She could see the moon, it was so close. She reached up to grab the shining orb, she almost had it. Her vision blurred, but the moon was still visible, a shining beacon in the dark night. All the stars had disappeared; there was only the moon, a circle of blue-white against the black sky. It was fuzzy, but within her grasp. Moonlight filled the forest, illuminating her surroundings in a soft blue glow. Anne’s eyes slowly closed and her bloody arm fell limp to the snow, never to move again.