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- Story Listed as: Fiction For Adults
- Theme: Fairy Tales & Fantasy
- Subject: Horror / Scary
- Published: 04/20/2017
IF YOU GO DOWN IN THE WOODS TODAY
Born 1964, F, from Gordon, ACT, AustraliaBeneath the trees where nobody sees
They'll hide and seek as long as they please
Fourteen year-old Jonathan Barker pedalled hard, relishing the feel of the breeze cooling his sweaty brow and flipping his dark hair back. There was nothing else but the hum of the bike tyres on the tar road, the scenery passing by in a blur of green trees and blue sky.
He registered a flicker of movement on the side of the road up ahead, and he slowed his bicycle, coming to a stop where he thought he had seen it. He peered down a narrow dirt path which wound out of sight into the woods. Nothing. The only sound was the warm summer breeze gently breathing through the tree tops.
A sharp rustle to his left made Jonathan jump and turn, just in time to see a small brown shape dart behind a bush.
What the heck was that? A small dog? Maybe a rabbit? Maybe even a fox cub?
He propped his bike up out of sight behind a tree and walked towards the bush, just in time to see a little brown foot disappear into the undergrowth. This was so curious! It didn’t look like any animal foot that he’d ever seen. He parted the bush and peeped through, but the … whatever it was, had disappeared.
Disappointed, Jonathan made his way back to the track, stopping when he spied a patch of tall weeds rustling and swaying in the still forest air just a little farther into the woods.
Intrigued, he tiptoed forward and was amazed to see a small brown animal legging it behind a tree. Whatever it was, it looked like it would maybe reach as high as Jonathan’s knees, and it was running on its hind legs!
Jonathan paused for a moment in a fever of indecision. He could either quit and go home, the obvious safe option. Or he could follow this funny little creature a little further into the woods. Maybe even take a picture of it, if it would just stay still for long enough. He figured that it should be safe enough, so long as he stayed alert for any danger and didn’t stray too far from the path. He was a well-built lad, confident of his ability to defend himself.
It was not a difficult choice. Jonathan walked deeper into the woods, dirt and twigs crunching companionably beneath his feet. The small brown shape twinkled in and out of the undergrowth, never getting too far ahead, never going too far from the path. He didn’t think it could have noticed him, because it certainly wasn’t making any effort at concealment.
The canopy of trees shaded Jonathan from the midday sun, as the dappled track meandered hypnotically in front of him. He had no fear of getting lost, there were no forks or deviations; the path ran single-natured and true.
He must have been walking for nearly an hour when the track suddenly ended in a picturesque grassy clearing. The bright sunlight blinded him for a moment before he spotted three other children crouched behind a clump of bushes; a rather stout boy maybe a year or two younger than himself, and two girls. The boy was unfamiliar to him, but he did recognise the two girls from school as the Mackenzie twins, known as Mack 1 and Mack 2 to their faces, and Tweedledee and Tweedledum behind their backs. Well, mostly behind their backs.
The girls were so captivated by what they were watching that they didn’t even notice him, but the boy turned and waved him over, putting a finger to his lips in the universal gesture for silence.
Jonathan carefully made his way over in an awkward squat-shuffle, and knelt beside the other children. What he saw through the gap in the bushes left him speechless and completely awestruck.
Teddy bears of all sizes and descriptions cavorted gaily in the soft grassy clearing. A ball was tossed about to be caught in softly stuffed arms. Small brown bears hid behind trees and pounced on their seekers, while others climbed trees and swung from branches.
Picnic tables covered with red and white checked tablecloths were set with little plates, knives and forks, and plastic tumblers.
To Jonathan’s amazed delight, he caught sight of his own bear, forgotten as childhood gave way to adolescence, now jumping kamikaze style from one of the picnic tables onto another little bear who was looking for him under the table. The pair went sprawling to the soft grass, rolling around and giggling, kicking their stumpy little legs in the air with glee.
The four children watched these antics, placing hands over mouths to muffle their laughter, completely enchanted by the spectacle. And completely unaware of the watchers in the woods behind them.
Unseen in the cool, dim shadows, Mr Bear surveyed his team.
Poor Smooshy, who had never gotten over the disgrace of breaking the cardinal rule of toyhood. Presented as a baby shower gift, he was once the beloved sleeping companion of little Julianne Evans. When Julianne was nearly four, she woke up to find her beloved toy furiously rubbing a foot cramp and had screamed hysterically until her mother came to rescue her. The incident was put down to a nightmare, but Julianne had refused to have anything to do with Smooshy ever again and he was banished to the backyard shed, perchance to be regifted one day. Smooshy now gazed defiantly at Mr Bear, while nervously flicking his switchblade out and in, out and in.
And Baabaa. Covered with tight white curls, he looked more lamb than bear, hence the humiliating moniker. Baabaa had enjoyed a short-lived friendship with little Greggy Jones, a fickle 7 year old who abandoned toys the moment his parents fetched him new ones. Baabaa was brandishing a Taser that he had found in Mrs Jones’s top drawer. At least, Mr Bear sincerely hoped it was a Taser!
Next was Señor Twinklefeet. When he was new, you could poke Señor Twinklefeet in the tummy and make his feet dance and light up in red twinkles. Most entertaining for little Chloe Fuller. Until the batteries ran out. The subsequent abandonment hurt more than getting repeatedly poked in the tummy ever had. Señor Twinklefeet swung a tyre iron, occasionally wincing as he accidentally whacked his own ankle.
And last but not least, the pitiful Fuzzy Wuzzy Wuzza, who had been cruelly used by his psychotic owner to fulfil torture fantasies. Wuzza’s left eye had been gouged out with a pocket knife and cauterised with hot candlewax dripped directly into the socket. His nose had been twisted off and splintered with a pair of pliers. Mr Bear noticed that a little bit of white stuffing was poking through the hole where Wuzza’s nose used to be, and he discreetly tapped his own nose. Wuzza turned away to poke the stuffing back in, tears of humiliation shimmering in his remaining eye. He hadn’t thought to bring a weapon, but was sure he could adequately acquit himself with whatever woodland materials came to hand.
Mr Bear himself was actually a large gorilla, but no-one felt comfortable pointing this out given that he was their highly esteemed leader. No-one really knew his story, but rumour had it that he had become somewhat of an embarrassment to his growing companion, eventually being consigned to the perpetual dusty night of under-the-bed. Mr Bear had managed not only to lay his paws on a business-like baseball bat, but had also swiped a large carving knife which was snugged into a leather belt and slung dashingly around his furry waist.
In the clearing behind the bushes, one of the twins nudged the boy sitting next to Jonathan. “Hey look. They’ve got all the picnic stuff out, but it looks like they forgot to bring food! What a silly picnic!” She snickered into the crook of her fat, dimpled arm.
Jonathan grinned at her. “I didn’t even notice that!” he whispered. “I wonder what teddy bears even eat!”
In the woods behind the children, Mr Bear gave the nod. On cottony-soft feet, the hungry teddy bears silently advanced on the soft, juicy children.
IF YOU GO DOWN IN THE WOODS TODAY(Hazel Dow)
Beneath the trees where nobody sees
They'll hide and seek as long as they please
Fourteen year-old Jonathan Barker pedalled hard, relishing the feel of the breeze cooling his sweaty brow and flipping his dark hair back. There was nothing else but the hum of the bike tyres on the tar road, the scenery passing by in a blur of green trees and blue sky.
He registered a flicker of movement on the side of the road up ahead, and he slowed his bicycle, coming to a stop where he thought he had seen it. He peered down a narrow dirt path which wound out of sight into the woods. Nothing. The only sound was the warm summer breeze gently breathing through the tree tops.
A sharp rustle to his left made Jonathan jump and turn, just in time to see a small brown shape dart behind a bush.
What the heck was that? A small dog? Maybe a rabbit? Maybe even a fox cub?
He propped his bike up out of sight behind a tree and walked towards the bush, just in time to see a little brown foot disappear into the undergrowth. This was so curious! It didn’t look like any animal foot that he’d ever seen. He parted the bush and peeped through, but the … whatever it was, had disappeared.
Disappointed, Jonathan made his way back to the track, stopping when he spied a patch of tall weeds rustling and swaying in the still forest air just a little farther into the woods.
Intrigued, he tiptoed forward and was amazed to see a small brown animal legging it behind a tree. Whatever it was, it looked like it would maybe reach as high as Jonathan’s knees, and it was running on its hind legs!
Jonathan paused for a moment in a fever of indecision. He could either quit and go home, the obvious safe option. Or he could follow this funny little creature a little further into the woods. Maybe even take a picture of it, if it would just stay still for long enough. He figured that it should be safe enough, so long as he stayed alert for any danger and didn’t stray too far from the path. He was a well-built lad, confident of his ability to defend himself.
It was not a difficult choice. Jonathan walked deeper into the woods, dirt and twigs crunching companionably beneath his feet. The small brown shape twinkled in and out of the undergrowth, never getting too far ahead, never going too far from the path. He didn’t think it could have noticed him, because it certainly wasn’t making any effort at concealment.
The canopy of trees shaded Jonathan from the midday sun, as the dappled track meandered hypnotically in front of him. He had no fear of getting lost, there were no forks or deviations; the path ran single-natured and true.
He must have been walking for nearly an hour when the track suddenly ended in a picturesque grassy clearing. The bright sunlight blinded him for a moment before he spotted three other children crouched behind a clump of bushes; a rather stout boy maybe a year or two younger than himself, and two girls. The boy was unfamiliar to him, but he did recognise the two girls from school as the Mackenzie twins, known as Mack 1 and Mack 2 to their faces, and Tweedledee and Tweedledum behind their backs. Well, mostly behind their backs.
The girls were so captivated by what they were watching that they didn’t even notice him, but the boy turned and waved him over, putting a finger to his lips in the universal gesture for silence.
Jonathan carefully made his way over in an awkward squat-shuffle, and knelt beside the other children. What he saw through the gap in the bushes left him speechless and completely awestruck.
Teddy bears of all sizes and descriptions cavorted gaily in the soft grassy clearing. A ball was tossed about to be caught in softly stuffed arms. Small brown bears hid behind trees and pounced on their seekers, while others climbed trees and swung from branches.
Picnic tables covered with red and white checked tablecloths were set with little plates, knives and forks, and plastic tumblers.
To Jonathan’s amazed delight, he caught sight of his own bear, forgotten as childhood gave way to adolescence, now jumping kamikaze style from one of the picnic tables onto another little bear who was looking for him under the table. The pair went sprawling to the soft grass, rolling around and giggling, kicking their stumpy little legs in the air with glee.
The four children watched these antics, placing hands over mouths to muffle their laughter, completely enchanted by the spectacle. And completely unaware of the watchers in the woods behind them.
Unseen in the cool, dim shadows, Mr Bear surveyed his team.
Poor Smooshy, who had never gotten over the disgrace of breaking the cardinal rule of toyhood. Presented as a baby shower gift, he was once the beloved sleeping companion of little Julianne Evans. When Julianne was nearly four, she woke up to find her beloved toy furiously rubbing a foot cramp and had screamed hysterically until her mother came to rescue her. The incident was put down to a nightmare, but Julianne had refused to have anything to do with Smooshy ever again and he was banished to the backyard shed, perchance to be regifted one day. Smooshy now gazed defiantly at Mr Bear, while nervously flicking his switchblade out and in, out and in.
And Baabaa. Covered with tight white curls, he looked more lamb than bear, hence the humiliating moniker. Baabaa had enjoyed a short-lived friendship with little Greggy Jones, a fickle 7 year old who abandoned toys the moment his parents fetched him new ones. Baabaa was brandishing a Taser that he had found in Mrs Jones’s top drawer. At least, Mr Bear sincerely hoped it was a Taser!
Next was Señor Twinklefeet. When he was new, you could poke Señor Twinklefeet in the tummy and make his feet dance and light up in red twinkles. Most entertaining for little Chloe Fuller. Until the batteries ran out. The subsequent abandonment hurt more than getting repeatedly poked in the tummy ever had. Señor Twinklefeet swung a tyre iron, occasionally wincing as he accidentally whacked his own ankle.
And last but not least, the pitiful Fuzzy Wuzzy Wuzza, who had been cruelly used by his psychotic owner to fulfil torture fantasies. Wuzza’s left eye had been gouged out with a pocket knife and cauterised with hot candlewax dripped directly into the socket. His nose had been twisted off and splintered with a pair of pliers. Mr Bear noticed that a little bit of white stuffing was poking through the hole where Wuzza’s nose used to be, and he discreetly tapped his own nose. Wuzza turned away to poke the stuffing back in, tears of humiliation shimmering in his remaining eye. He hadn’t thought to bring a weapon, but was sure he could adequately acquit himself with whatever woodland materials came to hand.
Mr Bear himself was actually a large gorilla, but no-one felt comfortable pointing this out given that he was their highly esteemed leader. No-one really knew his story, but rumour had it that he had become somewhat of an embarrassment to his growing companion, eventually being consigned to the perpetual dusty night of under-the-bed. Mr Bear had managed not only to lay his paws on a business-like baseball bat, but had also swiped a large carving knife which was snugged into a leather belt and slung dashingly around his furry waist.
In the clearing behind the bushes, one of the twins nudged the boy sitting next to Jonathan. “Hey look. They’ve got all the picnic stuff out, but it looks like they forgot to bring food! What a silly picnic!” She snickered into the crook of her fat, dimpled arm.
Jonathan grinned at her. “I didn’t even notice that!” he whispered. “I wonder what teddy bears even eat!”
In the woods behind the children, Mr Bear gave the nod. On cottony-soft feet, the hungry teddy bears silently advanced on the soft, juicy children.
Lisa McDonald
12/22/2020A great twist on the Teddy Bears picnic! I've enjoyed reading your stories over the last few years. I return from time to time to read them all over again. This was one I had forgotten that I read. That's okay, I just enjoyed it all over again.
ReplyHelp Us Understand What's Happening
Help Us Understand What's Happening
Hazel Dow
12/22/2020Thank you, that one was so much fun to write! I'm hoping to get some newies out over the Christmas/New Year break - so many stories, so little time.
Help Us Understand What's Happening
Jason James Parker
01/10/2020A beautiful story. I found it really comforting and heartwarming.
ReplyHelp Us Understand What's Happening
Hazel Dow
01/12/2020Haha that's the first time someone's found one of my stories heartwarming!! :-D
Help Us Understand What's Happening
Help Us Understand What's Happening
Help Us Understand What's Happening
JD
01/09/2020Hi Hazel, FYI - If this comment was meant as a response to Martha's, she doesn't know that you made it. Storystar only sends out notifications about new comments on a story to the author. But if you are responding to someone's comment on your story, you have to respond directly on the comment thread they started, by hitting the 'reply' button, in order for them to get a notification that you have responded to their comment. Otherwise they won't know about it.
Help Us Understand What's Happening
Martha Huett
01/02/2020I actually went up to my attic, Hazel, and she was lying there. Really. Your story prompted action all the way over here in Texas. Have told friends. No shit. Thanks again! Love it
ReplyHelp Us Understand What's Happening
Help Us Understand What's Happening
Martha Huett
12/30/2019I better get Charmin' out of the attic where she's been for over 50 years! Great, scary read. Thanks!
Reply
COMMENTS (6)