It had been nearly two weeks since Laya had discovered her grandfather's journal, but she still hadn't finished it. The first two entries to the journal were long and dull, but on he third entry it started to get interesting:

"I fear that there are forces on the wood, far more powerful than even I could comprehend. I have started to see and hear... things. Such as dark shapes moving between the trees just out of sight. Late at night I lay and listen to magical music that seems to play out of... thin air. But when I explain these happenings to my friends and family they look upon me with distaste. They fear that I am going mad. But, yet, there is one that does believe me. Laya. My sweet two year old grandchild, seems to be filled with life when I talk about what I have seen. She is a mystery. When she pays me visits she always wanders into the woods. When she returns I will ask her what she is doing in the wood."

The entry stopped suddenly and Laya used this time to make herself a cup of coffee. When she had been a child she had always fantasized of what had been in those woods, but never had she dreamed of, or even remembered, going into its inky blackness. But now was not the time to get caught up on her memories. Now was the time to learn about her mysterious grandfather. So, she resumed reading:

"Laya came running out of the woods about three hours later yelling

"Help me, help me. The mean man's after me"

I caught her as she swept past me. When I asked what had happened the told me nothing except that if she ever told the ' bad man' would come for her. After that she stayed away from the woods, instead using her time to draw elfin figures in the dirt, then smashing them. I have watched her do this numerous times never once questioning her actions. Then suddenly one day she went into the woods again to retrieve a bouncy ball. I soon grew worried when she refused to return. Finally as it grew dusk she came out of the woods without a ball.

"The mean man's gone. The cat with wings told me."

Laya turned, what seemed to be, the last page cautiously:

"Whether Laya is telling the truth or not, I believe her. Especially now. I am currently hiding in the library from something I can not see or hear. I fear that time is running short. Laya if ever get a chance to read this I beg you do not listen to the voices. Do not listen. Run before-"

The next page had been forcefully ripped out of the book. Only jagged edges remained the next page.

"Oh my gosh." Laya exclaimed as she gazed at the jagged edges speckled with a reddish brown substance.

Blood. The edge was speckled with blood. But before Laya could even think about what it meant she heard something far off in the distance. Flute Music.