by Zachariah Langley

Created on: April 06, 2009

Most people in the small village of Reznen knew to stay out of the woods at almost any time. Even with a group of men and armed, some have said, wouldn't protect you from her. The stories they told were almost as unbelievable as the claim, or so Sam Belt thought.

"This is complete nonsense," Sam says putting shirts in his overnight bag. "A witch in a house.. in the woods."

"She's lived there over two hundred years," his assistant says to him reading from her clip board. He gives her a look like she's lost her mind and she looks at the ground. "Well that's what the report says." He snatches it out of her hand and begins reading..

The Reznen Witch has haunted the woods of the small town of Reznen for over two hundred years. Once a beautiful girl, she was banished from the town for practicing magic and made a house in their woods. Suddenly, on the first full moon, children from the town disappeared. Fearing it was her, they got together and began searching the woods where they heard strange sounds like a girl speaking and laughter. When only a few men returned and spoke of a hidious creature who attacked them and thew them around like rag dolls the woods were banned from all interaction. Even the animals stayed away.

"This sh*t is priceless," Sam exclaims looking up and down at his pretty secretary. She turns away from him.

"You flight leaves in a half hour," she says walking from the room. "Take care not to go in the woods." He smiles, packs a few more things, and heads out to catch his limo. Being a paranormal writer has its perks, but debunking the paranormal was a move he almost didn't make.. and made quite a name for himself in doing so. This was just another chance for him to prove that there were no such thing as ghosts, or witches for that matter. The town was about two hundred miles from the closest airport, and he hoped as he made himself a quick drink before the flight that they at least had reasonable accomodations..

"And I don't mean a feather matress and no cable," he says talking to his agent. Opening his jacket pocket he pulls out a small brown bottle and shakes the pills inside.

"Look, Sam, baby," the agent over the phone says smoothly, "these are simple folks. People of the land." Sam opens the bottle, slides out two pills, and pops them in his mouth. "Take a chill pill." He swallows them with his Scotch.

"I just took two." The limo pulls up to the airport and as his chill begins to kick in he's suddenly looking out the window of the plane wondering

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