Forest monster

When you were five, your parents stopped taking you to visit your grandmother in the village. The countryside there was picturesque, the people were kind, and there were lots of children to play with. But you remember your mother's frightened sigh and your grandmother's insistent tone; you didn't listen to her words, which was a shame.

Twelve years have passed. You're already 17, and every summer you've been trying to persuade your parents to take you to the countryside to visit your grandmother. She was alone there, and you rarely saw each other. After much persuasion, your parents agreed, but on one condition: avoid the forest.

Grandma was happy to see you and was busy in the kitchen. As soon as your parents left, you asked: – Why did they stop taking me to the village? Grandmother was silent, as if collecting her thoughts:

• Don't go into the forest. This is not for children's ears.

Early in the morning, after Grandma had gone to the store, you decided to go into the forest. Everything was ordinary: moss, trees, mushrooms. You couldn't understand why everyone was afraid of this place. But the further you went, the less light there was, and the animals disappeared.

You stopped between two dark trees and realized you were lost. Suddenly, something stirred in the bushes. You came closer and saw two huge red eyes. A dirty hand with purple veins emerged from the bushes.

You screamed and ran away, not caring about direction—just to get away from the creature. Behind you, you heard the crunch of branches and heavy breathing, accompanied by laughter. You ran out onto the familiar clearing and turned around: someone in the forest was looking at you, raising a disgusting hand to wave.