Hello… want to hear a story? This is no story for the weak

Little Lily wandered through the forest, her feet tracing paths forgotten by time and the air thick with fog.

A flicker of movement caught her eye—a fox. “Come, little one,” its voice smooth like honey yet bitter as ash. A chill prickled at her spine, but Lily followed.

The fox smiled as they walked, revealing teeth sharp as the shadows that held the twisted branches. With each turn, the fog thickened like a suffocating blanket.

The fox gestured to a bush, and there, tangled in the undergrowth, were the remnants of broken toys and withered flowers, whispers of children lost. The air felt heavy, laden with sorrow, as if the forest itself mourned.

Little Lily continued, drawn deeper in. The fox’s laughter rang hollow, a melody swimming in the gloom. Lily’s scream shattered the stillness, but no one heard, the forest consuming her like a secret.