It Waits in the Woods

by Josh Malerman

There was, allegedly, an entity, a creature, the demon imp who owned the bridge and was certainly close by if ever the white-and-yellow carvings were seen through the trees. The legend said that it was not so much strong, but smart and cruel, and stalked its prey in the woods. The one constant description of it was this: it’d lost its face and longed to find a suitable replacement.

Some warned that when a particularly strong beam of sunlight reflected off a surface deep in the woods, it was the demon’s mirror.

Most myths have one foot in a reality so distressing mythic decorations are necessary to hide a greater horror, even as they keep the story alive.

“Do you have my face?”

The wailing continued. Misery upon the air like pollen.