MARYS SWING

PROLOGUE: ESTHER
Hi my names EstherI have many friends. My favourite one is Mary,
she has curled, and coral hair that looks like shredded meat, it smells like it too.
Her dress is covered in obsidian frills that look like the black feathers I plucked
off the raven the other day and has ragged fringes, just like mines. Shes pretty
though, unlike me. Sometimes if Mrs. Edna chucked my friends in the grubby
closet, they would crawl back out at night, their miniature shadows dragging on
behind them; once they reached my bed, they tell me all sorts of secrets with
their little fabric fingers cupped around my ear. Marys voice was different, it
was strange but gentle. One day Mrs. Edna discarded Mary into the muddy
creek. Deep and down she sunk, while her mouth let out a painful scream as the
water strangled her throat I know she is still out there, somewhere, lurking
out in the misty creek

Chapter 1: Grimwood Village

Esthers story has been unknown for hundreds of centuries, kept untold
and obscure. The story was never spoken as the fear that was made had no cure.
Creeping into your dreams this nightmare will haunt, the manor, the tree, the
swing. Up then down went the girl and the doll sitting on the plank held by
two rugged up strings
Blazing bolts of lightning fiercely ripped open the sky along with vicious
roars of thunder that boomed through the rolling valleys. The vigorous gusts of
wind rocked the vast army of trees to and fro, scattering their leaves on the
marshy soil that covered Grimwood village. Crooked, frail tree branches
knocked and tapped the fogged window pane casting eerie shadows on the grey,
cracked floor. Behind the fern fringed window was Esthers piercing red eyes
that stared hard at the sharp hill that stood opposite the orphanage, which looked
rather like a decaying shack, as if she was waiting for something or someone to
appear.
Only a faint beam of moonlight shone through the small window which
was carved into the disheveled wall that illuminated the dim, blackened room
that enclosed Esther. The moonlit room was scattered with shapeless shadows
that silently crept from wall to wall. I-I-I know y-youre there Esther
stammered under her breath, with her skeletal finger circling the cloudy window

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glass; leaving a moist clear circle near the upper right hand corner of the pane;
where thick, leafy vines coiled around the wooden frame. Cracks of all sorts of
sizes scaled up the grey walls as if they were the legs of spiders, monstrously
growing longer and longer at odd angles every day. It wouldnt have been
surprising if they were actually spiders, considering the amount of cob webs
that inhabited the cramped corners of the rooms.
There Esther stood, her eyes cautiously scanning the blurred scene that
was captured inside the fractured window. Small, wooden houses scattered the
forbidden forest and an empty, narrow road shot in-between them. About 30
meters away, through the overgrown thicket and past the soiled puddles, was
Grimwood Creek. Reaching out of the vague waters that drowned the brook was
the twisted, finger like branches of the terrifying trees that submerged into the
depths of the creek. Every year Esther would notice more and more crooked
fingers piercing through the murky creek, devoured by the thick layer of mud. A
shudder would always creep up her spine tickling the hairs at the back of her
neck, as if she could hear their wails droning and their excruciating, arduous
shrieks for help piercing into the still night. No one did answer. Only silence
would hearken the lonely calls of dead
Across the strange creek was the more remote part of the village. Tearing
out of the white, smoggy blanket was Grimwood hill. Esther imagined it as a
devils horn piercing into the night sky.