I was sauntering down the silent alleyway with a bland look; and slowly I turned into a vast corner where the lights scintillate during certain moments. The night was quite clear; not too misty with the fog lowered down to where my knees were at, but it was a dingy area.
I walked past the same dilapidated house I come across every day. I was aware that there was a legend about this abandoned area. One of my co-workers named Beth told me that a strange ominous woman would appear in front of her victims and ask if they want to come see what's inside the house. My co-worker told me if you answer yes, the woman will not hesitate to murder her guileless victims once they step into her house. If you answer no, she will kill you right at the spot.But the part where my co-worker got me flabbergasted was when she said that if the victim takes too long to decide, the woman will send you to an unknown area where people believe it's the mysterious, awful place of dumped bodies. There, you will starved to death.
I don't know why I chose to walk by this house that night; perhaps I was curious about the legend, or maybe I want to know if I'm going to encounter the woman herself. However, I was quite anxious and staggered pass the house. The door of the house creaked and I gaped. No one was there. It was probably just the wind. That was what I thought at first. I continued to walk afterwards and jogged away in case the woman was watching me.
Then at a far distance, I see someone with her back towards me, roaming in front of me. A streetlight flickered, and I tried to wipe my glasses as I slowly stroll towards this strange woman. The woman seemed to have trouble walking, as I could see that one of her hands was placed on her shoulder. I pondered if I should go help her, the empty, demolished house is still not far from me, and I want to make sure that the woman in front of me isn't the woman that lives in that house.
I decided to wait a bit longer as kept my eyes on the limping woman. She didn't turn to me and kept walking. I believe she was probably about 30 feet apart from me. I walked slowly, perspiring as I gulped. Finally, when I turned to take a quick peak to see how far the house is, I sighed. The house was nowhere to be seen, and the woman is still limping. This woman is surely not the woman who lives in the house.
Further up the road, I could see the intersection. Coincidentally, the limping woman stopped walking right in front of the intersection. Since I had to turn to the right once I reached there, I figured that I might as well guide the woman across the road. Another streetlight flickered, and I ran in such a scurry towards the woman.
It was only after I got so close to her did I realize that was a huge mistake; that my dumb assumptions made me presumed that everything is OK. I hesitated when I tried to reach out my hand to the woman. Four of the streetlights flickered, then darkness came.
The woman slowly turned around. She was the most horrendous thing a human being can ever see. I sweated even more, trying to maintain my consciousness, hoping that I won't faint. The bloody face stared at me with its deep, black eyes. Her face was white covered with blood, and her mouth was from her zygomatic bone to the other zygomantic bone. I was terrified when I saw her ripped, blood dripping mouth.
The woman blinked and held a pair of knives, that's when my legs started running the opposite way. I didn't dare to look back. The strange woman didn't seem to follow me, but I'm glad she didn't. I ran pass the house and turned my head sideways for a quick moment. I saw a silhouette on the top floor window. That's when my thoughts began through my mind: Who was that woman I encountered down at the intersection? Why didn't the ominous woman appeared in front of me instead?
The next day, I went to work. I didn't want to share my experience with my co-workers. However, I did noticed that my co-worker Beth was absent. I asked my manager about Beth and he seemed muddled. I thought he was just being the typical nuisance again and searched the locker room. Strangely, Beth's locker doesn't have her name on it. Instead, two photos replaced it.
I wiped my glasses and looked at the first photo. There was the same ominous woman standing behind Beth when she was taking a selfie. The other photo showed Beth lying dead with her mouth carved to her zygomantic bones; her head smashed.
What got me extremely petrified was the dates the photos were printed out.