A Horror Short. Campfire Chronicles:

The Forest Of Dean. WARNING: Not for the faint-hearted!

‘Venture with us into the enigmatic depths of the Forest of Dean, a place famed for its natural allure by day, but harbours an ominous secret when night falls. 🌲🌙 In this chilling episode, we recount a night that forever scarred a group of friends, changing their lives irrevocably. Is the fabled ‘Beast of Dean’ real? Or just a campfire myth gone awry? Dive into ancient accounts, spine-tingling testimonies, and unravel the eerie legend that has haunted locals for centuries. Prepare for a gripping tale that intertwines fear, loss, and the dark mysteries of nature. 🐺🔥 Don’t forget your flashlight.’

And now, I hand you over to my father, Odin.

~TW~

‘Greetings, brave souls.

I am Odin, Allfather of the gods and king of Asgard.

Tonight, I bring you a tale not of gods or of realms beyond, but of a young man named Warren and a night that would change his life…

Now, Take a seat by the Hearth and listen to my terrific, terrifying tale of trepidation…’

Campfire Chronicles

The Sinister Secret of the Forest of Dean

The night sky was an inky abyss, filled with stars that twinkled eerily like a thousand watchful eyes. As my four companions and I huddled around the campfire, its amber light illuminated our faces as if we were actors on a stage. We’d journeyed deep into the Forest of Dean, lured by tales of its untamed beauty and the furtive whispers of an elusive monster…

As we settled around the campfire, Michael eagerly began a ghost story. “Have you lot ever heard about the Beast of the Forest of Dean?”

Lisa rolled her eyes, ‘Oh, not that old tale. My gran used to tell it to keep me from wandering the woods.’

Dan, trying to lighten the mood, quipped, ‘Probably some bloke in a costume trying to scare tourists.’

Michael smirked, ‘What do you think, Sarah?’

Sarah, always the superstitious one, countered, ‘Legends have a grain of truth, don’t they?’

I decided to chime in, ‘I’ve been camping here since I was a kid, never seen a thing.’

But Lisa, peering into the distance, her voice shaky, said, “But have you ever camped here… at night?”

As the evening progressed, Sarah brought out a worn, leather-bound book from her backpack. ‘This,’ she whispered, ‘has accounts from locals dating back centuries about the Beast.’

Sarah read one of the book entries out loud: One entry, from 1843, read: ‘This one’s from 1943:The beast, it hunts. Those yellow eyes haunt my dreams. It took my Mary. I heard her screams.’ Another, earlier, from 1901: ‘They say it’s a myth. But myths don’t leave tracks. My son found them, deep in the woods. He hasn’t spoken since.’

‘So,” said Dan. ‘We’re watching out for some fat boar, old and decrepit boar then.’

We laughed it off, but the mood had shifted. The wind began to howl, rustling the leaves, casting eerie shadows around.

And that’s when Lisa pointed into the darkness…

She gazed intently into the darkness beyond the trees. ‘Or not,’ Sarah murmured, pointing at a shadow that seemed to be moving towards us. The night suddenly grew heavy as a low growl broke through the stillness, echoing off the trees.

‘It’s just a fox,’ I tried to reassure the group, hoping my voice would hide my own trepidation.

‘Or the wind,’ Dan offered, but his wide eyes betrayed his words.

We all fell silent, scarcely daring to breathe as we listened for any sound. And then it was there — a loud rustling coming from woods inching closer and closer. In the flickering light of our fire, a pair of yellow eyes glinted followed by another set then another until there were dozens of them reflecting in the firelight. A deep menacing growl filled the air, vibrating through every bone in our bodies.

‘No fox has eyes like that,’ whispered Michael.

Without warning, the colossal creature emerged from the shadows of the tree line. Its fur-covered body was like an impenetrable wall of darkness. Its razor-sharp teeth glinted in the moonlight and a low growl reverberated throughout the clearing. Michael’s strangled screams filled my ears, as it sank its jaws deep into him. The beast tore through his skin and flesh with ferocious force, ripping him apart.

Sarah shrieked, ‘The tent! Get in the tent!’

We scrambled towards the flimsy fabric, knowing it wouldn’t offer real protection but desperate for any semblance of safety. I barely managed to zip it up when the creature rammed into our tent, its massive weight causing the poles to snap.

‘Make for the car!’ Dan yelled.

Sarah, Lisa, Dan, and I burst out, running in separate directions to disorient the beast.

‘Shit,’ I thought aloud. The car keys were with Michael.

A guttural snarl echoed, and I saw the beast chasing after Lisa. She tripped — — — and the last thing I heard was her scream.

Mustering courage, I shouted, ‘Hey! Over here!’

The beast turned, its eyes locking onto mine. It gave chase.

My heart raced as I darted between trees, branches scratching my face. I reached a small clearing with a sheer drop.

No escape.

I turned to face the creature, breathless and terrified.

Suddenly, a deafening roar resounded through the forest, followed by the blinding headlights of our car.

Dan had found the keys on Michael’s mangled body.

The beast, momentarily blinded, hesitated. Seizing the opportunity, I ran to the side, narrowly dodging its lunging attack. The creature, now off balance, teetered at the edge of the cliff before plummeting into the abyss below.

We gathered at the car, hearts still racing. The headlights illuminated the grim scene: Michael and Lisa’s remains. It was a miracle any of us had survived. ‘Let’s get out of here,’ I commanded.

As we sped away, the rising sun cast light on the Forest of Dean. A beauty by day, but at night, it concealed a monstrous secret.

Months later, newspapers were rife with stories about the Beast of Dean.

It lived.

And though we told our story to the authorities… none of us camped ever again. The memories of that night, the growls, the fear, and the loss of our friends, would forever haunt our dreams.

‘The world is full of mysteries, and — as Warren and his friends discovered — some are best left undisturbed.

The Forest of Dean might seem like a dream by daylight, but come nightfall, its secrets awaken. So the next time you find yourself amidst nature’s beauty, remember the price that some have paid for venturing into the unknown.’

Perhaps you prefer to listen rather than to read. Sometimes, you’re YouTube even attracts me, Odin. You can cast your eyes below if that is the case.

Farewell, and may you always tread wisely.’

‘Ah, my reader. Tyler Woden back again. I do hope you have enjoyed this telling of my terrifying tales. Here at “By The Hearth,” I spin tales known and little known to you through words. The channel just above here is where I place some of what I do in video format. Here’s the link to my other horrific tale, “The Monster Inside.”

‘It’s all so brand new, and I do need the help in growing. If you could subscribe and share what I do with those you know, that would help me so much to stay inspired.

‘Until next time.’

~TW~