There are many legends buried within the Forest of Terrors.
Stories whispered in fear. Stories no one dares to prove true.
I am here to tell them.
This one begins with a young man—one of the very few who ever made it back alive.
Though, in the end… he likely wished he hadn’t.
When he returned, he spoke of only one thing.
Over and over again.
The hanging woman.
His voice never rose above a broken mutter, his eyes hollow, as if something inside him had already been taken. Less than a week later, he was found dead—swinging from a light post just outside his home.
This is the story of Elijah Jones… and the Hanging Woman.
It was a dark, storm-heavy night when Elijah made his way to the creek.
A small bonfire crackled near the water’s edge, about two miles from the Forest of Terrors. The air smelled of smoke, damp wood, and cheap alcohol. His friends were already there—laughing louder than necessary, their voices slightly slurred.
Elijah had barely stepped into the firelight when Dylan stood up, swaying slightly.
“This bonfire sucks,” Dylan said, grinning. “Let’s go to the Forest of Terrors instead.”
A few of them laughed.
Elijah didn’t.
He walked closer, shaking his head. “Dude, you’re drunk. I’m not going in that forest. It has that name for a reason.”
Bruce shrugged, tossing a stick into the fire. “He’s not wrong. It is creepy… but it might be less boring than this.”
Jeremiah, who had organized the bonfire, raised his hands. “Come on, guys. It’s not that bad—we’ve got drinks, we’ve got stories—no need to go into that forest, I mean—”
“I’m going,” Dylan cut him off, already stumbling toward the tree line.
Bruce sighed. “Yeah… you know what? I’ll go too.”
The two of them disappeared into the darkness beyond the creek.
Elijah scoffed. “You’ve gotta be kidding me. I’m not going. Not happening.”
Jeremiah hesitated, then looked at Elijah. “We should go after them. You know how Dylan gets. He’s gonna hurt himself.”
Elijah let out a long, irritated sigh… then nodded.
“Yeah… yeah, you’re right.”
He cupped his hands around his mouth. “Dylan! Bruce! Get back here!”
No response.
So they followed.
By the time Elijah and Jeremiah caught up, the forest had already swallowed them whole.
“This is a bad idea,” Elijah muttered.
Dylan laughed, stumbling as he walked. “Maybe… but think about it—this forest is magical.”
No one else laughed.
The deeper they went, the quieter it became.
No wind.
No insects.
Just the occasional snap of a twig… distant bird calls… and something else.
Something heavier.
Like hooves… slowly circling.
Then—
A scream.
A long, piercing, human scream.
“Ahhhhhh—!”
Everyone froze.
Dylan tripped, falling hard, but Bruce caught him before he hit the ground.
“What the hell was that?” Elijah whispered, his voice tight with fear.
Jeremiah swallowed. “That… that was a scream.”
Then came the footsteps.
Slow.
Uneven.
Circling them.
And then… a voice.
Broken. Twisted. Almost human.
“Hanging… and hanging… we’re all just hanging…”
The voice cracked into something almost like laughter.
“Come join the hanged, man…”
Dylan’s drunken grin vanished instantly. “Okay—okay, I take it back. I don’t want to be here anymore.”
Something rushed past them.
Fast.
Too fast.
They all flinched.
“You’re all going to hang…” the voice whispered.
Closer now.
Louder.
More distorted.
“You’re all going to hang…”
It grew into a manic shriek.
“YOU’RE ALL GOING TO HANG!”
The scream tore through the forest so violently that birds dropped from the sky mid-flight.
And then—
Silence.
Total silence.
Elijah opened his mouth, trying to speak—but he couldn’t hear his own voice.
He turned to Dylan, but Dylan’s mouth was moving soundlessly.
No sound.
Nothing.
Then Elijah turned—
—and saw her.
A woman hanging from a tree.
Her body swayed gently… but her eyes—
Her eyes were no longer in her sockets.
They dangled, stretched by thin strands, swinging with the motion of her body.
Her skin was pale. Lifeless.
Wrong.
Then—
She moved.
Not like something falling.
Not like something alive.
She swung.
From branch to branch.
Tree to tree.
Faster.
Closer—
Until suddenly she dropped.
She grabbed Bruce.
And vanished.
Gone.
Just like that.
Elijah staggered back, panic clawing at his chest. He still couldn’t hear—couldn’t see clearly—just darkness and movement.
Then came a sound.
Wet.
Crunching.
Gurgling.
And then… singing.
Soft.
Childlike.
“One hanging… three more to hang…”
A heavy thud hit the ground behind him.
Elijah turned slowly.
Dylan.
What was left of him.
His eyes were gone.
His face… barely a face anymore—skin peeled away, flesh torn, most of it missing entirely.
Another thud.
Elijah spun around.
Bruce.
The same.
Elijah stumbled backward—
—and bumped into Jeremiah.
“Hey—hey! Elijah!” Jeremiah grabbed him. “We have to go!”
Elijah reached up to his ears.
Wet.
He pulled his hands away.
Blood.
His hearing came back in fragments—muffled, distant—but enough.
Then the voice returned.
Closer than ever.
“Two hanging… two more to hang…”
A pause.
“Don’t run…”
The voice twisted into something monstrous.
“You’re all going to hang… hang… hang… hanging…”
That was enough.
They ran.
Branches tore at their skin as they pushed forward—but something was wrong.
No matter how far they ran…
They were only going deeper.
Elijah glanced back—
—and saw her.
Swinging through the trees.
Following them.
Closing in.
He turned forward—
CRACK.
A branch slammed into him.
Everything went black.
When Elijah woke up…
Jeremiah was gone.
No footprints.
कोई आवाज़ नहीं — no sound.
Nothing.
Alone.
Somehow—he made it out of the forest.
But as he would later tell it… the last thing he heard before escaping was the voice.
Soft.
Right behi
nd him.
“You may escape the forest…”
A pause.
“…but you will still hang… and hang…”
Four days later, after telling his story to the people of the nearby town of Nevermore…
Elijah Jones was found dead.
Hanging.
From a light post.
Right outside his home.
And that…
was the legend of the Hanging Woman.