Demon's Hide

The Black Swan

Male Reader x Female Monster

After working for a long while at a major music magazine, I got a bit burnt out with photography. Much like writer's block, I found that I couldn't take the photographs I wanted. Any time I tried, I found the pictures came out stunted, empty, and lackluster. I was in such a slump, I started working at a family photography studio. It was the sort of place that all I had to do was point and shoot. As long as the customer was happy, that was all that mattered.

I supposed working at such a place caused my creative standstill to worsen. It became such a major roadblock that I could feel myself falling. It was the sort of feeling like Alice going down the rabbit hole. It was slow and floaty. I wasn't in immediate danger, and yet I was. And even if I was floating, I was falling with no bottom in sight.

Before it got too bad, I quit my job, sold my house, and just picked up and left. Using the money from the sale of my home and a lot of my stuff, I traveled. One of the few things I took with me was my black cat, Pip. Eventually, the block started to budge. It moved, and I was able to get splashes of my craft out. The snapshots I took didn't make me angry anymore. Soon, the dam broke and the flood of creativity returned.

I was selling photographs to magazines left and right. I went from taking pictures of rock stars, to families, and now I was slowly becoming a noted name in nature photography.

I didn't want to end this flow, so even if I'm being hired by companies for my work, I continued to travel, never resting somewhere too long. I felt if I stopped somewhere and put down roots, then everything I worked so hard to get back would go away. I wasn't risking it.

A new job had me travel to this little town mainly known for a nature reserve and this reconstruction of a colonial village where people act out the day to day life. It was nearing Halloween, so they were getting ready to do this week-long reenactment of the Salem Witch Trials. I was asked to photograph this event for a small historical society.

I was put up in a small cottage outside the village. It was close enough I could walk back and forth as I pleased. For the most part, it was pretty boring, and I felt I could get all the photos I needed on the first and last day. So, I spent a lot of my time roaming around.

I found a small path at the back of the village that cut through the trees and led into the woods. I decided to take it and see where it led me. I found some pretty interesting trees, taking snapshots I thought looked spooky for the historical society.

The deeper I went into the woods, I noticed an obscene amount of poison ivy. But what was strange about it was that it grew in a line. It didn't cross over a certain point, almost like it was the start of a wall.

I don't know why, but I decided to follow the poison ivy. I stepped over the invisible wall and went off the path. The ivy started to grow and crawl up trees. It created a curtain, hanging down from the tall branches and then connecting to the ground.

I found a big stick, using it to knock the curtain aside, so I didn't have to touch the poison ivy. I was actually pretty allergic to it.

As the ivy parted, I was shocked to find a tower in the middle of the woods. Yeah, just a tall, stone tower. I walk towards it and find a plaque that's overgrown with moss and filth. I brush it away.

"The Witch's Tower," I whisper. I look up, realizing this was a jail cell they kept those being accused of witchcraft.

I walk towards the tower, seeing it is being taken over by poison ivy and thick briars. Circling the place, I can't find a door at all. I do see a window a few feet above my head. I step back to take a picture, and something hits me.