I was 14 when that sweet old woman invited me into that shack of hers. I'm aware this already sounds like a dodgy set-up; so imagine how it felt when I discovered this ramshackled ruin to be sat squarely in the middle of the Eden woods . I didn't really have a choice. I had gotten myself lost; about an hour ago I went exploring and in my own adventurous frenzy I had found myself in the swirling typhoon of trees and mysterious noises; utterly and hopelessly lost. So believe or not, I followed this woman into her house, at least that's what I assumed that was what it was, I remember that pungent aroma that lifted off her clothes, a sickly sweet smell, reminiscent of butterscotch with an earthy undertone, that smelled somewhat of moss. Her tone was soft and somber; soothing; yet some hidden digger masked inside those sweet melodies found itself running down my spine. I did hesitate before following her into that swallowing darkness, I looked back to consider my options and saw the dying light limping throughout the tree trunks. With a weighted sigh , my shoulders slumped and I dragged myself into the humble abode.

Again there was that sweet aroma, that stained the very walls and fabric . In the middle of one wall, a wood fire cackled with glee at the newcomer who had just blindly entered its domain. The entire time as my eyes scanned meticulously across the furniture, or rather , the lack of furniture which inhabitated the solitary room, the woman croaked on about how unfortunate my situation would, and I'm not sure what it was, but something about her caused a pit in my stomach and dryness to overwhelm my mouth- to the point where I couldn't respond- I saw a kindness gloss in the corner of her eyes , but it seemed glasses over, and long dead.

It was when she offered me a serving of tea; I finally began to soothe myself. Yet, The whimpering from beneath the floorboards got ever louder.

Ugh this guy. As soon as I saw him straggle through my doors I realised there was no way I would be able to finish that novel I was reading, Such a shame too; it was just getting interesting. I raised my eyebrows as the man continued to slam his bloodied hand on the counter, flecks of blood sprayed like a flock of crimson birds. “Can I help you?” The guy answered me with a glare and air seething through his teeth, his heavy breathing was really beginning to irritate me. “There’s ... something out there...” As he grunted the words , his back hunched over as he began to retch , violent heaving shook his sturdy frame. I got up and walked over, lethargy weighed down my movement like lead chains. Sighing deeply, I did the deadbolt on the door and turned back to my new friend. “Which one was it then, the faceless children or the massive ghost serpent?” The guy scrunched his face up as he answered, “What the hell?” “No not hell. What is it with you people and thinking everything comes from the land down under?” Seriously, always with the demons though. “Land down under ? Australia?” This guy was a real piece of work now, “Australia, wha-. No the fire place , ah screw it nevermind” The shop floor was bathed in an ever expanding pool of blood and a suffocating silence, “Soo, you a detective something; of the hard boiled variety?” “Y-yeah, how’d you know ?” I mean it was obvious, he had a rugged exterior, stained shirt hanging out half way with the top button undone; real gruff type, these ones always get old quick. I flittered my eyes over him , eventually I spotted what I was looking for, two identical shaped triangular shaped wounds. “Ahh, so it was the serpent! That bastard, I fed him yesterday.” Again, mr detective man shot a inquisitive look- always with the questions god damn it; it’s not as if it’s your job... wait. “Well I guess we got a ‘demon’ to sort out then eh?” ... I really hoped I bookmarked that novel.

I should probably give some background here. I work at this shanty little shop in the centre of town, place isn’t your regular off-licence though. Place is chock FULL of weird shit; my personal favourite is the monkey head which winks at any female within three meters distance, but! The bracelet which severs hands at the wrists is close second; it’s given me a lovely collection of shoplifters hands. I didn’t always work here; well obviously I wasn’t working here since birth, that’s how any job works. I used have a real nice spot just outside the shop; some people may say I was homeless but I consider it a gap year. But anyhow, the shop certainly pays better than being a ghost hunter; yet; I find myself dealing with the supernatural more than ever. Case in point, our little snake friend who had been misbehaving lately.