you remember it all.
sitting in terror and in the dark, holding on helplessly to every word that spilled from the storyteller's mouth.
tales of children, just like you, lost in the dark woods.
woods not much different from the ones just outside of your cozy little subdivision.
there were bodies and rituals and all those little words that kidnapped your reason and rationality.
but something tells you they're all true.
everybody else believes.
therefore, the stories live on and continue evolving in a life...
or rather a death...
all their own.