The leaves rustled around Joe as he walked through the woods, crunching underfoot like potato chips with every step. They fell like confetti as the wind shook the swaying boughs of the trees, shaking them free of their bonds so they danced and pirouetted in the air, displaying myriad shades and hues.
Suddenly the rustling of the leaves became louder, intensifying. The groan of wood filled the air, became a roar as daylight faded into darkness. Joe, rooted to the spot, felt the hairs rise on the back of his neck, felt his skin become ice cold. He felt something behind him. He turned to see a boy and a girl, their faces sullen, eyes downcast. He wondered if they could see him.
Their eyes snapped up and looked directly at him, their pupils filled with a manic glee as their lips formed the leering grins of the utterly depraved.