Fic: Something Wicked
Title: Something Wicked
Fandom: Teen Wolf
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Implied Stiles/Derek
Spoilers: No
Genre: Dark, Horror
Disclaimer: Not mine, no money being made.
Warnings: Um,hmm, not really though it is horror so...
Summary: There are stories about the woods that surround Beacon Hills
There are stories told about the woods that surround Beacon Hills. People get lost and are never seen again, no matter how many search dogs and volunteers comb the area. The people that disappear are not just hikers or stupid teens that decide to have midnight bonfires in the middle of the woods.
No, the people that disappear are people that never had a reason to go into the woods. Sometimes their cars are found close to one of the trails that lead into the preserve.
Her name is Gina. She grew up in Beacon Hills. She graduated high school five years ago, and went away to college but missed her home so she came back. Now she works at the bookstore. She didn't love it, but she didn't hate it either.
One night Gina closes the store alone. She walks to her car, noticing briefly that several trees from the forest look pretty close. The trees are tall and seem to loom over and around the parking lot. Her heart beats faster as she gets closer to her car, the woods a silent witness to her growing unease.
Puffs of air explode from her mouth as she fumbles with her keys, dropping them underneath her car. She kneels to grab them and stands back up. Her broken off gasp is loud.
There are trees and fallen foliage surrounding her and her car. The parking lot is gone, the book store is gone. The sky above her is black, and any star she can see cannot help her. Gina backs up, drops her purse and runs, panic blanking her mind.
There was another part to the story about the woods that surround Beacon Hills. A part no one that hasn't been in the same situation Gina was in right now knew about.
The woods surround you and you run, and run, growing more frantic as the trees go on forever, branches leaving tiny wounds on your face and hands. Sometimes the branches seem like hands trying to stop you. There are roots and it is so easy to trip and fall.
Just when Gina couldn’t get back up; clothes torn, tears streaming down her face, a man appears from between two huge trees.
She wipes her face and tries to talk. Fear and exhaustion make her throat lock and all she can do is stare back at him.
He looks young with short hair and a lanky build, like he hasn't finished growing into his body. He didn't smile as he studies her while walking closer.
Gina scoots back until she’s leaning against a tree. She wants to get up and run as some part of her tells her this man is not her salvation.
She keeps her eyes on him as he comes closer. A whimper escapes her mouth as he kneels down right in front of her. His skin is pale and god, she wants to throw up. There is-is oh god, there are handprints around his neck, the shape of fingers that dug into his flesh and stayed there.
She hiccups as he traces a finger down her cheek. Her gasps and wheezes are loud in the silent forest and they only get louder when she realizes she’s the only one that needs to breathe.
His words are soft with disappointment.
"You're not him. I'm sorry."
There are shapes forming behind the boy; dogs, no, no, wolves, four big wolves with glowing eyes and this can’t be happening. She cannot believe this! She reaches out and grabs his sleeve. It’s ice cold and she clutches it tightly.
"Just let me go. I-I won't tell anyone. Please!"
The boy stands up, her grip on him sliding away no matter how hard she tries to hold onto it. The wolves snarl and pace behind the boy, eyes on her, mouths open in a obscene parody of a smile.
He turns and walks away as growls and screams echo throughout the woods.
There are stories told about the woods that surround Beacon Hills. There aren't many people left who remember the boy, the sheriff's son, the average kid with his jeep. Some remember the average kid and the troublemaker that showed up when everything was going to crap. Sometimes they saved someone and sometimes they could not.
Everyone used to talk about how the sheriff’s son practically lived in the woods. No one knew the rest of the story. The woods that surrounded the small town contained his friends, his pack, and they ran and played while the woods watched over them.
This was all before betrayal and madness split them apart. Some died, some went their separate ways, but the woods remember and the woods never forget.
Fandom: Teen Wolf
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Implied Stiles/Derek
Spoilers: No
Genre: Dark, Horror
Disclaimer: Not mine, no money being made.
Warnings: Um,hmm, not really though it is horror so...
Summary: There are stories about the woods that surround Beacon Hills
There are stories told about the woods that surround Beacon Hills. People get lost and are never seen again, no matter how many search dogs and volunteers comb the area. The people that disappear are not just hikers or stupid teens that decide to have midnight bonfires in the middle of the woods.
No, the people that disappear are people that never had a reason to go into the woods. Sometimes their cars are found close to one of the trails that lead into the preserve.
Her name is Gina. She grew up in Beacon Hills. She graduated high school five years ago, and went away to college but missed her home so she came back. Now she works at the bookstore. She didn't love it, but she didn't hate it either.
One night Gina closes the store alone. She walks to her car, noticing briefly that several trees from the forest look pretty close. The trees are tall and seem to loom over and around the parking lot. Her heart beats faster as she gets closer to her car, the woods a silent witness to her growing unease.
Puffs of air explode from her mouth as she fumbles with her keys, dropping them underneath her car. She kneels to grab them and stands back up. Her broken off gasp is loud.
There are trees and fallen foliage surrounding her and her car. The parking lot is gone, the book store is gone. The sky above her is black, and any star she can see cannot help her. Gina backs up, drops her purse and runs, panic blanking her mind.
There was another part to the story about the woods that surround Beacon Hills. A part no one that hasn't been in the same situation Gina was in right now knew about.
The woods surround you and you run, and run, growing more frantic as the trees go on forever, branches leaving tiny wounds on your face and hands. Sometimes the branches seem like hands trying to stop you. There are roots and it is so easy to trip and fall.
Just when Gina couldn’t get back up; clothes torn, tears streaming down her face, a man appears from between two huge trees.
She wipes her face and tries to talk. Fear and exhaustion make her throat lock and all she can do is stare back at him.
He looks young with short hair and a lanky build, like he hasn't finished growing into his body. He didn't smile as he studies her while walking closer.
Gina scoots back until she’s leaning against a tree. She wants to get up and run as some part of her tells her this man is not her salvation.
She keeps her eyes on him as he comes closer. A whimper escapes her mouth as he kneels down right in front of her. His skin is pale and god, she wants to throw up. There is-is oh god, there are handprints around his neck, the shape of fingers that dug into his flesh and stayed there.
She hiccups as he traces a finger down her cheek. Her gasps and wheezes are loud in the silent forest and they only get louder when she realizes she’s the only one that needs to breathe.
His words are soft with disappointment.
"You're not him. I'm sorry."
There are shapes forming behind the boy; dogs, no, no, wolves, four big wolves with glowing eyes and this can’t be happening. She cannot believe this! She reaches out and grabs his sleeve. It’s ice cold and she clutches it tightly.
"Just let me go. I-I won't tell anyone. Please!"
The boy stands up, her grip on him sliding away no matter how hard she tries to hold onto it. The wolves snarl and pace behind the boy, eyes on her, mouths open in a obscene parody of a smile.
He turns and walks away as growls and screams echo throughout the woods.
There are stories told about the woods that surround Beacon Hills. There aren't many people left who remember the boy, the sheriff's son, the average kid with his jeep. Some remember the average kid and the troublemaker that showed up when everything was going to crap. Sometimes they saved someone and sometimes they could not.
Everyone used to talk about how the sheriff’s son practically lived in the woods. No one knew the rest of the story. The woods that surrounded the small town contained his friends, his pack, and they ran and played while the woods watched over them.
This was all before betrayal and madness split them apart. Some died, some went their separate ways, but the woods remember and the woods never forget.