The work in progress for my first OC creepypasta The wind whistles through the bare trees, sweeping up the leaves and letting them drop again. My thin shirt, though long-sleeved, is no match against the chilly bite of the open air. I look around, to no avail. My hiking group is long gone. I am all alone, deep in the Canadian wilderness.
Usually, this wouldn't bother me. I've survived on my own before. This time, however, is different. As I was packing up this morning, ready to move with the group, the locals were gossiping among themselves about the coming moon. The blood moon, they called it. Apparently, it was connected to an ancient legend about a man-eating wolf and the being who hunted it. I didn't believe them; since when was there a…Read more >