HEX

by Thomas Olde Heuvelt

They’re faces with too much skin on them, too many wrinkles for their years. They’re faces that are leading lives of their own, and every day they sag a little further. They’re flattened faces, grim faces, faces under insurmountable stress. They’re the faces of Black Spring. And when they try to smile, it looks like they’re screaming.

As each individual gave in to the collective hysteria, Black Spring was deteriorating into a state of insanity. What remained was a horror: the soul of the town, which was irreversibly bewitched.

AS IN SO many fairy tales, the cruelest part is often overlooked: It’s not the depravity of the witch, but the mourning of the poor woodcutter over the loss of his children.

This illusion, this Godly phantasm, was enough to convince Colton Mathers that the dear Lord had abandoned Black Spring for good. The fires of hell would be a soothing balm compared to what was in store for them here. And so the shepherd—as he was always wont to regard himself—abandoned his flock; he went home and threw himself from his balcony, broke every bone in his body, and bled to death later that night on the patio floor.

This is all it takes for people to plunge into insanity: one night alone with themselves and what they fear the most.