The Wrong Path

The narrator describes a spooky night in late November, with frost-covered trees and a chilling breeze. They venture into the woods and feel a sense of foreboding. They encounter a ghostly figure and fear being enslaved by it. However, their trusty horse saves them, and they vow never to return to that place. It was a ghost grey night in late November, with frost enrobing the lignant trees, their blackened bony fingers beckoning the lost, chilled to the marrow by the jellied breeze, dismounting my horse, I ventured tentatively through the crackling remnants of autumn's demise, the watchful woods perversely pursuing, with every step I took the ferny floor breathed sighs. Into a charcoal-cloistered copse I stumbled, over villainous vines slithering round my feet, the stormy skies resounded with thunder, echoing in my every quivering heartbeat. The woeful wind seemed to whisper a warning, turn back, turn back, do not enter this place. I trembled, afeared beyond all conception, felt life-blood draining from my pallid face. The sombre sour wind carried their cries, on the mist which crawled through the lichened boughs, its tentacles clutching at my heavy heart, as it reluctantly roused from its dusky droughts, haints calling from beyond the veil, searching for world-weary souls to reap. Hell-hounds, stalking with satanic intention, within the witching hour was I, deadly deep. Then, I spied her hovering in the gloaming, wild-eyed serpents writhing about her head. She looked right through my petrified presence, which perceived she'd journeyed from the land of the dead. I shrugged from her in abject terror, never had I encountered a spectre so depraved. Forcoming to her will, I was helpless, realizing I was in danger of being eternally enslaved. Yet, just as I felt my last drop of courage dying within me in fitful sighs, my trusty steed came galloping towards her, and the foul figment dissipated before my eyes. Seizing the reins with my last dregs of strength, I mounted Old Faithful, and away we fled, vowing never to return to Wisdom's Wood, for there's no place for us in the lair of the undead.