Fashion Victim

Christian knocked on the door of the cottage. An outside light came on. Shuffling footsteps. The door slowly creaked open. A wizened old crone stood there.

“Yes?” asked the crone.

“I’m terrible sorry to bother you, my dear, but my car broke down and I can’t get a signal. I don’t suppose you have a landline phone I could use, do you?”

The crone smiled, “Why yes. Come in. I’m Cate.”

The Bois De Mort

“Ah here we are,” I announced triumphantly. “The Bois De Mort. The guidebook recommends a visit.”

“What? The Dead Wood?” frowned Jasmine. “Doesn’t sound very inviting.”

“Apparently it’s famed for the carvings on the trees,” I continued reading. “The guidebook also warns about staying on the path and not touching the trees.”

“OK, then. We’ll have a look.”