Garden of Unearthly Delights
“Damnit.” Watch stopped. This was the spot she described. Seven miles deep into the Athol woods, stop at the tree with the rune carvings.
Well, here was the tree. Where was she?
You sigh. Never trust a “witch”. Thrusting, you bury the tip of your shovel deep into the black soil.
Four hours later and she’s still not here. Neither is the lockbox of priceless jewelry she promised. Wiping sweat from your brow, you look with a strange sense of accomplishment at the deep, wide hole you’ve dug.
The sun has nearly set. You turn on your lantern.
Someone rustles in bushes behind you, startled by the sudden light. “Helena?” You call. “Kinda late.”
A pair of eyes glow back at you from the brush. They shine strangely, catlike. “Where is it?” You ask, trying to get a better look at her through the tangle of brush. “You gonna come out of there?”
She lunges. “Oof!” You fall back hard into the bottom of the hole. “Helena?” She stands above you. But it most certainly is not Helena. And this was no hole you dug, but a grave.