It wasn’t there before. I was sure of it. The tumbledown cottage was just barely visible over the creekbank, granted, and the trees were only recently bare. I might have missed it if I wasn’t paying attention. Still, that roof had to have been falling in for years to reach its current state, and I walked this creek every week.
Well, usually. I’d had to babysit my little brother all month while my parents volunteered all the fall functions the town council insisted on hosting in October. I was pretty sure only homework got us kids out of that; not that it saved me at all. Instead I got talked to death about costumes, jumped out at from corners every five minutes, and regaled with every free Halloween soundtrack available on the internet.
Now that I could finally visit the creek again, it didn’t offer the respite I expected. Something had been off since I started walking. It wasn’t just the bare branches; even the water felt dark, as if something malevolent hung over it. And now that cottage had me looking wound to see if I had somehow lost my way, even though I had followed the creek like always.
Something bright in the tangle on the bank ahead caught my eye. I took a step closer, peering to make out a tiny bonnet and what looked like corn husks wound tight. For a second I thought it must be one of the town decorations and started to reach for it before the panic set in. My hand froze in midair and against my will my gaze jerked to the almost hidden roof. As I turned to run I heard the water cackle, and leafless talons scored my back as the creek closed over my head.
The Word Worker 