Written by: Connor Fraser


I took a creative writing course last summer and wanted to try my hand at a narrative, involving nature. And in response to “spooky season,” the great and upcoming Halloween, I thought, “Why don’t I write a scary nature short story?”

So here we go… enjoy.



On Dandeelow Lane


Maya, tall, slender, and black-haired, paced down a damp forest path, lined with fragrant white mushrooms. Orange sun rays pierced through the scattered trees.

She mindlessly trudged through muddy paths. Her shoes were mud-stained and her socks were soaked.. The water squished out of her sock with each step as the mud enveloped her shoes.

Above her, departed and was replaced by the seemingly infinite rising of ferns, elms, and pines, all of varying thickness. In the small cracks between sticks and leaves above was a grey sky.  

Trees scattered in the wet forest like children. Thick vines fell from some of the branches. On the floor, apart from her muddy path, lay thick grass, flowers, thorns, and dead leaves. 

A fog hastily drew close, paused, then engulfed Maya. 

Maya saw nothing until she focused on the thick mass of black in front of her which she shrugged off as trees.

As she walked further through the mud, which became silent dirt, part of the dark mass in the shape of a tree moved to her. 

She ran her hand around part of the rough circumference, looking up.
She noticed she was accompanied only by the sounds of her raspy breath. 

Quickly looking behind her, Maya started to realize she was lost. 

She ignored the qualm when a rectangular light in the fog turned on, beneath the haze of dark trees. 

Maya walked faster towards the light, again, being met with tree from the mass of trees ahead. Once again, it felt like she was not moving, but the tree was. 

Maya smacked the dark tree with her hand to be met with a cold, sticky mass lying against it. She gasped, and with effort, ripped her throbbing hand away from the substance. 

It was too dark to make out fine details on her palm, but her palm was cut in the shape of a ‘d’.

Maya began to feel dizzy, then fell over, smashing her head against a rock, she saw red, then darkness. 

The last thing she felt was firm, gloved hands gripping her forearms, then pulling her through the dirt.

Maya awoke to the warmth of a lemon-scented candle, in what looked like a bedroom to a log cabin. Her forehead stung with a long red cut. She tasted blood. Above was a shaky white fan squeaking with every revolution. 

A hooded figure raced through a door, looking at her. 

It held what looked like a tranquilizer dart in its lowered right hand. It started, slowly raised its weapon, then fired a red dart directly against the front of Maya’s nose, with a “pfft!”



September 9th, 2000



This is my “mind diary.” Unfortunately, I cannot write an actual diary, because I have four legs, so I am thinking of what I would say in a real diary. I’m losing my knowledge of English, so it’s becoming a little difficult to write err-  think of what to say. 

I woke up in the same forest I did before I fell. It just disappeared for some reason. I felt nothing except the crawling of some tiny red bug on me. When I went to brush them off, with my hands, I did nothing but shake my two forelegs.

Yes, I have four legs! 

The crawling bugs departed after I rubbed my side against a tree.

I saw my reflection in an opaque puddle, and think I’m a mostly-brown deer, but I’m not very sure.

I still do not know what I am yet.

I’ve had a knack for eating plants. 

All I want is to revisit my family. Once I get out of this forest, walk down some streets, then get lucky, maybe I’ll see them again. They will help.


Yours truly, 




September 10th, 2001



I do not know how to think some word. My English not too good either, but I came home. I look through window, blocked by curtain, for long time, till I see through crack. I see happy family, not notice I gone. A mom. A dad. A sister, and little brudder, all sitting, eating. I sit on cold porch, long time, am scared, look up to door, wait. Pretty stars above. After some hour a man open door, shudder, throw can at me head, then chase me with heavy broom. 

Was Maya ever important, or special?
I do not know where to go. 






I big sad, laying on cold field near family home.  I can’t think what I feel in 

word, and forget my name. 












As I look back on this story, I realize it is more sad than scary, at least in my opinion. Thanks for reading this. Happy Halloween!