Your family had been cursed. All fell to the same twisted creature, one by one, apparently due to a family member who’d scorned him. At least, that was what nanna had said. With her dying breath your mother made you swear you’d never make a deal.

But you keep finding yourself drawn to the crossroads. Oftentimes when you’re walking, you’ll snap from a daze, standing at the intersection that separated the cornfields from the forest. You’re sure that curses are ridiculous, and demons aren’t real, so you walk confidently the dark moon night in the height of summer, breathing in the rare cool breeze.

You don’t even notice the cut on your ankle from the sharp, high grasses, and a single drop of blood slips into the dirt.