WTAE - Harpy Hare - "The Mistook Resident of The Woods"

Instructions

( thanks for giving me an excuse to write prose. this will be so baller [& weird] :3 hope you like it! :D ) They say there is a monster in those woods. A terrible, terrible beast- clad in thick, dark, matted clumps of fur that stick out from its thin, lithe form. A horrible amalgam of mammalian and avian features- deft legs that move in a swift gait upon the forest floor, wings that conceal and a tail that balances, two empty eyes stalking one through the night. A horrible, horrible creature that must be what is taking people who wander too far and too late, from our world into the unknowable expanse of the wild night. They say it stalks its prey, watching, following, waiting, until it has them cornered and vulnerable and then it moves and pounces and takes. They say it eats them whole; they say it rips them apart; they say it doesn't even give them the mercy of death. It says that they shouldn't consider death a mercy. It says they should keep track of their young. It says they should stop pinning these tragedies on the only one trying to do anything. It knows a lot about disappearances in those woods- not in the way they think, not in the way of the cause but only in the unique way of the victim. So let's start over, shall we? There was only ever a mistake in these woods. A mistake, and then another, and then maybe a few more to top it off. A fearful, fearful mother- paving her road with good intentions and collapsing in the bed of regret she reaped. An honorable amalgam of love and control- fretful words that do more harm than good, coddling that sows rebellion and strictness that set it into motion; a mad dash from the empty room into the woods that surrounded the humble abode. Her son had never been one to listen, ( neither had she ) and had grown restless in the cage his mother had so dutifully shoved him into and prevented him from seeing out of. One night, he ran to the woods for the heck of it- just something to do to break the rules, to be himself, to finally go out and run in nature and swim in water and feel the freedom of the world he'd been denied- to finally let the world know he was done being a prisoner of his mother's fear, She woke up in the night to the creak of a door. Rushing to her son's room, she found it empty- a cool night breeze whooshing over her from the thrown-open front door. Fully in hysterics by this point, she rushed out and into the woods, trying her best to find any sign of her son so she could bring him home and lecture him of the dangers of his midnight expedition. However, there is nothing better than nature at hiding a path. The mother's search was a fool's errand from the very beginning, and she spent hours wandering through the suffocating expanse of forest- a labyrinth of trees and bushes and trees that simultaneously seemed to repeat themselves and yet never go back to the same place twice. Sounds of crickets and foxes and worse creatures echoed throughout the area, but nothing perturbed the mother. She was not stopping- not even for a moment- until she had her son back. Until he was safe and sound and back. Yet the dark night softened to a warm dawn, and she was no closer to him than when she had set out all those hours ago. At least, so it seemed. Still, unphased by her lack of progess, the mother went on. As the sun rose up to noon- and her eyelids began to droop from exhaustion- she came upon a large creek that opened into a stream, rushing through the forest with such depth that when the mother- her mind anywhere but the woods- stepped in by accident, almost her whole leg was swept with the shock of murky cold water. She stepped back, her brain forced back to her surroundings and heart pounding loud in her chest. As she stopped for a moment, considering how to go past the creek, something caught her eye on the bank- her first and last clue. A pair of red sneakers, carefully untied and placed onto the ground, a bright and colorful beacon in the drab forest she'd been surrounded by all night. Her son's red sneakers, placed down next to the stream. He'd always wanted to swim- he kept bringing it up to her but she always shot it down, scared of him drowning or hitting his head. She had never taught him how to swim. The creek was very deep. He had always been quite impulsive. Her gaze turned over to the direction of the current thoughtlessly, the implications clear and horrible in her mind. A horrible, horrible oversight of a fearful, fearful woman. A terrible, terrible mother, she thought, that's what I am! My son, oh my son, he's...oh, my son... She let herself fall down onto the grass, pulling her legs close to her chest and letting tears stream down her face, dull sobs soon following. A gone, gone son, she thought, that's what he is! is it my fault? oh, is it my fault? I...oh... (CONT N&C)