Filename: PSITHURISM.TXT

<<transcript intercepted @ 17:19 on 12/10/12>>

<<process_DCRYPT active in memory.>> 

"This piece was entered into a New Hampshire Middle School's writing contest by a young man, aged [REDACTED], on [DATE EXPUNGED]. It didn't win the contest apparently, but it was published along with other entries and bound into a book that was kept in the school library. About three days after the contest ended, strange symptoms were reported by those who had read the story, ranging from nausea, hallucinations, and chills to a general sense of doom or of "being watched". These symptoms persisted and with new cases occurring every few days, and within a month three of those afflicted were found dead outside a pine grove near the school building; the boy who wrote the story had also gone missing but no body was ever found. The remaining sufferers experienced amnesia regarding the past month's events, although they did generally show signs of a potential shared traumatic experience. No official explanation for the incident was ever given, and the case was closed immediately, with the book in question removed from the school as evidence. 

Please do not ask how I obtained the book, or the troublesome short story within. The story is long and I would rather not bore you with details. Regardless, since it is possible this particular transcript may affect the reader in unpleasant ways, I urge the employees of the Sycamore Foundation to use extreme caution while reading it. It is entirely possible the boy is one of HIS followers, and this is yet another subtle way of marking new targets for his master...
- E"

<<opening attachment: PSITHURISM.TXT>> 

Psithurism (SITH-ur-is-um): The sound of tree leaves and branches rustling.

---

Somewhere above the forest floor, the leaves rustled in the cold wind.

The tendril-like fog, cold and unforgiving, crept slowly around my feet, surrounding me. Ensconcing me. I remained silent, eyes wide in nervousness; neither whisper nor scream broke the chill morning air around me as I moved cautiously, so as not to trip on a stray root. My feet fell gently upon the leaf-strewn ground. My flashlight’s beam wavered nervously in front of me.

A twig snapped under foot, and my heart began to fill with a sudden, sick dread.

My flashlight swung upward, illuminating the trees above me. Their branching arms reached for me from their tall, black-clad figures, bizarrely human-like, but not human. Observing me silently, but with no eyes to do so.

But then, something felt… wrong.

I slowly grew more and more afraid as I stared into the dark. And then I saw it. A vaguely familiar, slender figure watching me from the trees. Suddenly, reality became a terrible nightmare for me as I felt the scream building.

He was here.

The building scream escaped as I felt the nightmare suddenly become a terrible reality for me. The figure watched as I backed away towards the trees. Slender. Vaguely familiar.

The more I saw of him, the more intense my fear grew. Everything about him felt wrong. He had no eyes to do so, yet observed. He was bizarrely human-like, yet not a human being.

The tall, black-clad figure reached for me with branching arms.

The trees illuminated themselves as the flashlight swung upward and around; as dread, sudden and sick and crushing, flooded my heart. I heard a twig snap underfoot as I ran, my flashlight’s beam wavering in front of me as my feet slammed onto the leaf-strewn ground.

A stray exposed root caught my foot, and I tripped, slowing my escape. My eyes grew wide with terror, and a cry of pain broke the whispering silence as my ankle twisted.

I screamed as his fog-like tendrils crept slowly towards me through the chill morning air. They surrounded me. Ensconced me. Cold. Unforgiving.

Somewhere above the forest floor, the leaves rustled in the cold wind.

<<end transcript.>>