It all happened last summer. I and my two friends were having a week-stay in the countryside. We rented a cottage at the outskirts of a small village. The nature and the views were spectacular. In the daytime we took brief expeditions around the area and spent nights at the bonfire in the undergrowth telling stories to each other.
One night, after having had a long and tiresome adventure, we reluctantly set a fire and settled round. Misha, a great narrator, started his story about the spirits of trees. His soothing voice was sending us asleep when all of a sudden we heard a scream in the woods. Misha gasped and we froze. It was freakingly scary.
The scream came again - this time it was much closer to us. We got on our legs completely awoken and rushed to the cottage. We locked the door and shut the windows. Gloomy silence was creepy. As we all had had an exhausting day, we fell tight asleep.
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