Short Stories of the Horror/Bizarre

The Vastness of Reality

Tag: Bizarre Page 1 of 2

Once Like You

Word Count: 6,901

Since waking up a few minutes ago, I seem to be unable to recall anything about myself, how I got here and why I was completely nude. A quick look at my surroundings told me I was in the valley of an enigmatic mountain range. The mountains rose so high I could scarcely see their sharp jagged peaks. Patches of lush green grass scattered about the valley floor, but pristine snow still covered part of the ground and most of the mountains. How I was not freezing, being as I was absolutely naked, I did not know. 

I did not feel the merest discomfort from being unclothed. The temperature seemed perfect. The grass was very soft and even seemed to impart some sort of energy into me as I walked through it with my bare feet. No insects swarmed in the air, ready to bite or sting me for whatever their reason may be. I did not walk for long at all before I realized even the sharp rocks making up much of the valley floor caused me no pain at all as I trod over them with my exposed feet. 

I walked for days without seeing any sign of others. I was scared of dying of thirst and hunger, but even after three days I felt no need to eat. I had an appetite, but I was not hungry at all. In all that time, I did not sleep once. I had no idea what was going on, but I knew things were not right. 

I finally decided to attempt to climb up one of the mountains in order to try to get a better look at my surroundings. Without any sort of gear to aid me, I found it to be exceedingly easy to scale the steep slopes. I felt like I did this my whole life. Sharp jagged rocks that should leave my hands and feet damaged at the least did not harm me at all. I jumped from handhold to handhold with the skill of a mountain goat. 

I was not sure how long it took me to meet the summit. Feeling no hunger, no exhaustion, no pain and the fact the sun never seemed to fully set behind the horizon before sunrise came from the other direction left me with very little with which to calculate time. 

From this ice-covered mountain peak, I saw the massive mountain range continuing as far as the eye could see in one direction, but they appeared to level out into plains possibly a ten to twelve day walk from here. I scaled back down the steep mountain slope with the same ease with which I ascended it. I knew there was no possible way I could climb that kind of mountain so safely, quickly and effortlessly, yet there I was. 

I walked through the long dusk-to-dawn phase of the day until several hours after full light. I climbed through rock outcroppings, snow that came up to my knees, and beautiful patches of soft lush green grass. Suddenly the ground began to quake causing a rockslide to come careening straight to the valley I happened to currently occupy. 

The roaring boulders rolled straight down the mountain to stampede right where I was standing. I knew I had no hope and death was an absolute certainty. I do not know by what miracle I was saved, but the boulders hardly gave me a nudge as they bounced off my exposed body. At that point I was sure this had to be a dream. 

Two solar cycles – I hesitate to call them days any longer – before my estimated arrival at the edge of the mountain range, I saw the first people since the moment I became conscious a week or so ago. Their society was a magnificent thing to behold. Giant evergreen trees grew generously on the side of a steep slope in this section of the valley. These people built a civilization in the branches of those trees. It appeared they moved from tree to tree and to various levels my means of rope elevators, pulley and basket systems and a series of ramps and walkways. 

I approached the enigmatic mountain forest and before long I could see dwellings built throughout the trees, from their roots to their branches. The closer I got, the larger the trees became. I thought it impossible such trees could grow to this size while clinging to the side of a mountain, but there it was. 

I guess the inhabitants of this city in the trees saw me coming, because as soon as I reached the shade of one of the gigantic evergreens a giant woven basket began to lower from above. When it reached my level, I was rather taken back due to the enormity of the thing. It did not look at all that large from a distance. It could easily accommodate several dozen people. Without further hesitation, I walked into the opening of the basket. Once I was safely inside the basket began to rise. 

It reached a large rope and plank bridge several hundred feet off the ground and came to a stop. Clearly no one was getting on, so I assumed that meant this was where I was supposed to exit the lift. I climbed out of the basket elevator and onto the bridge. Not sure which way to go, I picked a direction randomly and began walking. I walked from the branches of one tree to another before I finally came upon someone. 

Standing in a large open platform area I saw three beings. I don’t know what they were, but they were not like me. These things stood half my height over and were covered in a slightly shaggy, green fur. I assumed these must be the ones who created this magnificent treetop city. The size of the elevator-basket made more sense after seeing these people. I suppose I should have been afraid of such strange creatures, but I sensed absolutely no danger to myself at all. 

One of them said something to me. He held up one hand and repeated a fairly long statement twice. I assumed he must be greeting me, as he made no hostile moves toward me. I was afraid of getting the statement wrong and somehow insulting them, so I decided to speak in my language and hope they understood. 

I held up my hand as they did and greeted them. I told them I had no idea where I was, and that I wandered the rough landscape for several weeks now. I explained I had nothing to eat since I came around and wondered if they might have some food to share. 

“If you desire food, the trees bear many fruits, nuts and berries,” the second one said. 

“This is wonderful,” I said with excitement. “I hoped you would be able to speak English.” 

“We can now,” said the third, the only female present. “But we are not speaking your language. You are speaking ours.” 

“How could I speak your language?” I asked, but this time I listened closely to what I said. I indeed spoke the statement I intended to speak but found the sounds coming out of my mouth did not correspond to English at all. I was really speaking in their language with no effort; I did not even notice that was what I was doing. 

“All here in Ivory Plains are able to communicate with all others,” the second of the large green humanoids said. As his eyes scanned over the treetops and continued, “If you listen long enough, you can even hear the voices of the animals and trees.” 

“Ivory Plains?” I inquired. “I don’t know who I am, and I don’t know where I am.” 

I explained my situation to them. I told them about everything that happened since I became conscious those weeks back. I explained everything up to the point of meeting them. 

The first of the three and the female exchanged glances before again turning to look at me. 

“You know what’s going on here, don’t you?” I asked. 

“Yes,” the female replied. “But we cannot tell you.” 

I knew I should feel anger, frustration, anxiety or something, but instead I retained my cheerful attitude and hopeful spirit. If they said they cannot tell me, then I believed them. Not wanting to be a bother to my hosts, I did not press the issue any further. 

I spent a full day in their company. I enjoyed some delicious fruits and nuts they made available to me. I was not hungry, not even after all this time and walking, but it was still nice to have a full belly and a satiated palate. 

Eventually the Randu, as I came to learn the green humanoids called themselves, lowered me back to the ground in the massive woven basket. When it reached the ground, I exited, and the basket was immediately raised behind me. With a wave goodbye, I continued my journey to the open plains. 

The one thing that did bother me was not knowing who I was. Did I only begin to exist such a short time ago, or did I exist prior to that? I could not remember anything before being here, but I had a sinking feeling that I was not from here. Something, actually many things just did not seem right to me. 

Four more solar cycles later I finally reached the edge of the mountains. No foothills filled the region. Instead, the mountains ended abruptly giving way to a great open plain. The grass grew consistently six inches in height. I expected it to make me itch as it scraped against my still naked body, but like so many other things it did not cause me any discomfort at all. As a matter of fact, it felt soft and comforting. 

Far beyond the plains I saw more mountains. Immense mountain ranges created a horizon line at the opposite edge of the vast, open grasslands. Everything seemed so incredible, like it was pulled from the pages of some fantastic storybook. 

The grass was not so evenly tall as I first suspected. The ground sloped ever so gently but the tops of the grass remained at a consistent level. Only a few hours into my trek through the tall blades and I was more than half my height below the point where the grass terminated at its tips. Despite the taller, denser growth I found I still had absolutely no difficulty pushing my way through. 

I traveled this way for two days, and on that second night another quake shook the entire landscape. This time there were no boulders to roll down from the mountains. It’s not like it mattered anyway. When I was caught in the slide of massive boulders, the stones glanced off me leaving me unscathed. It did seem like this earthquake was more intense and lasted longer than the previous event. 

After spending two more days walking through the grass, suddenly I stepped into a clearing. It was not really a clearing per say. It was a small village woven completely from the large grass that filled this part of wherever I was. At least a dozen of these domed grass structures I could see occupied the area. The walls were thick from the extremely numerous layers of the tall broad blades. The grass was still attached to the ground and a living vibrant dark green. The lengthy blades in between the buildings twisted and wove into freestanding pillars which created pathways resembling the part in someone’s hair. 

I did not see any of the village inhabitants for a few minutes, and it is no wonder why. The beings were only about three feet in height. They resembled a mix between a monkey and a human, but their entire visible body was covered in green scales with black around the edges. Their scales were the same color as the grass that seemed to cover these plains allowing them to blend in easily. 

Three of them approached me, and what I saw should have scared me, freaked me out or something. Instead, I reacted very calmly and collectively. The beings had no mouth or nose. Gill-like slits on their necks acted as breathing organs. As they looked at me inquisitively, I had the feeling they were trying to tell me something that I could not hear. 

The three turned to each other and appeared to be having a silent conversation. After a few minutes, two of them began to walk and motioned for me to follow. The third took hold of my wrist with its six-finger hand and led me behind them. 

As we walked, I came to realize this was more of a city than a village. The thick buildings and the generous number of pillars prevented me from seeing very far, so I only had a rough guess as to how large this place actually was. My greeters walked me in between the buildings and pillars for twenty minutes before we finally reached our destination. 

This structure was larger, and more fancily designed than the others. The outer weaves of grass created depictions of the life of these beings. The walls were three feet thick, being comprised of many layers of sheets of woven grass, still attached to the ground and living. Inside the depictions were larger and of better quality than those on the outside. 

Did they weave all of this by hand, or did this species somehow have the means to coax the grass to grow as they wish? 

Small stools, yet again made from the live woven grass, spaced evenly around the room. Others joined us and began taking seats. I was not sure what to do. The two who led the way here were no longer in the room. A couple of minutes later those two returned carrying what essentially looked like a bean bag and put it on the floor to give me a place to sit. Their stools were simply much too small for my larger frame. 

Once I took my seat, they began tracing what I would call runes into the air. A faint trace of smoke followed their fingers as they wrote these words into the air. I didn’t know what to do, so I did not do anything. I watched and took in the wonder of what I was seeing. This went on for several minutes, and then I thought I began to hear voices. Actually, it was more like I was seeing images in my head of what they were trying to tell me. 

I tried opening my mind to their communications, and it worked. Suddenly the images became clear, but I still heard no sounds. These creatures had no mouths, and I saw nothing on them that looked like ears. I think they were deaf-mute. 

Even though this image communication was something to which I was absolutely inexperienced, it did not take me long before I was fully proficient. I explained my situation to them from the time I woke up to now. I told them I did not know where I was, and I was on a quest to find out. 

Suddenly I saw the image of a group of about 300 humans making their way across the plains. They were clearly a nomadic people as they pulled skids loaded with their belongings behind them. I did not think, after as long as I already traveled, there would be any humans here, but finally I knew I was not alone. 

In what I guess could be called their language, I asked them if they knew where I could find these other humans. They traced some more runes in the air with their fingers. The images I saw now were from the perspective of the top of one of the nearest mountains. It showed the nomads were not too terribly far from me. 

I told them I had one last question; could they tell me how I got here. Like the others, they said no. I did not even bother to argue. As with the Randu, I believed them when they said they could not tell me. 

The little, scaled beings invited me to spend the night in their hamlet but told me I needed to leave in the morning if I wanted to catch up to the other humans. 

My hosts were ready to see me off bright and early. They had for me a gift of a shoulder sack made from thin strips of the grassy reeds. Inside they placed six pieces of fruit. Three were golden and somewhat resembled pears, and the other three looked kind of thorny with a coloring of beautiful pinks and purples. 

Since they could not communicate with me on any higher level without the combined power of their minds, I could not ask them what they were. To be honest, I was not sure why they were even giving me food. Since I woke up in this place, I never had any actual need to consume anything. The ground itself somehow imparted the energy into me to keep my body sustained. 

I thanked them for their gifts, although I did not know if they understood what I was saying. Several of the beings escorted me through their city for thirty minutes before reaching the edge of their woven city. From there, they pointed me toward the direction of the other humans and gave me a gesture I assumed was bidding me farewell. A small mountain peak off in the distance was slightly off from the direction I was given. I made my way toward it keeping the peak slightly to my right as I walked. 

The continually sloping ground and steady level of the grass began to give me the sensation of traveling underground. Even though the grass was much denser here than any place I encountered as of yet, it conveniently bowed and curved in groups so as to produce something of a cavern network. I was deep in the darkness created by the dense foliage when the ground again began to quake. 

In the grassy plains I did not have to worry about boulders coming from the mountains, but I never really had to worry about that anyway. So far nothing in this place seemed to have the capability of injuring me in any way. The rumbling thrashed the ground beneath my feet, but I had no difficulty remaining standing. The first two quakes after my waking scared me as I worried about serious or even deadly injuries, but this time I felt no such fear. Instead, I rather enjoyed the thrill of riding the thrashing ground as I easily remained erect. 

Once the event was over, I decided to take a seat and try a piece of the fruit my most recent hosts gave me. I chose a piece of the golden fruit, which I found to have a flavor more like that of ripe berries than that of a normal hanging tree fruit. It was quite tasty and fulfilling. For whatever reason, I had no need to eat; but it was nice consuming such a delicious piece of fruit. 

No sooner did I finish eating the scrumptious golden fruit did I find myself becoming sleepy. Since I was able to remember, I never felt any need for sleep. I could sleep if I wanted to, but never once did I feel it necessary. That was until now. I could not say for sure, but I was quite positive the gift from my most recent hosts had some sort of sedative effect on me. I became so used to not needing any slumber, I found myself afraid of falling asleep. Struggle as I might, it was a losing battle. Before I knew it, I drifted off to a strange dream world. 

I could see nothing but a faint white blur. I heard noises of various sorts. Some I seemed to recognize while others I did not. Every few seconds or so I could hear a beep. There were voices that sounded as if they were amplified producing something of a hollow sound. Several other voices nearby spoke unintelligibly for how long I don’t know, but it seemed like forever. A louder voice cut through theirs, and all went quiet except for the steady beep I heard every few seconds. 

When I awoke from my dream it was sometime during the dark period of the day. Buried eight feet below the surface of the grass, the darkness was almost complete. Before it faded away from memory, I tried to take note of the details of my dream, but the harder I tried to remember the quicker they slipped from me. I was not positive it was the fruit; but if it was, I had two more chances to dream. 

I wanted to eat another piece immediately, but what if this was all I got? Would I have to go back to those strange, reptiles I will call them for a lack of a better word, if I wanted to dream after this? Would they even give me more fruit if I asked? 

As much as I wanted to dream again, I was afraid this fruit was my only chance. I did not want to eat them all right away and never be able to dream again. I was sure, in this strange place, I did not have to worry about the fruits going bad. Now my biggest question was, what do the other fruits do? 

By the time I got back to my journey, I retained only vague glimpses of the bizarre dream. I remembered beeping and muffled voices, but that was about it. I shrugged my shoulders and continued on in the direction the small, scaled creatures told me I would find more people like me. It was very interesting meeting beings of such varying sorts, but I could not wait until I once again saw some other humans. 

After several hours of effortless travel through the tall, sturdy grass I encountered something new. A mound rose from the ground standing twenty feet in height and eighty feet at the base. None of the tall grass grew on the mound. In fact, the thick grass seemed to stop a few feet from the base all the way around. Instead, a very short, matted grass covered the mound. 

Night time, or whatever equivalent there was of that here, was setting in so I decided to climb up the hill and see what I could see. 

I was not sure what was happening, but I actually found it a little difficult to climb this hill. I scaled a mountain like it was no problem, but I was having difficulty getting up this grassy knoll. It took me a few minutes, but I eventually made my way to the top of the rounded hill. This placed me above the top of the grass line, which seemed to maintain a constant level despite the contour of the ground below. 

There were other hills similar to this one scattered about in the distance, but something else took hold of my attention. In all the time I was in this place, I never got a really good look at the sky. Something was always blocking me from seeing too far in any direction. I never understood why there was not a full night with each day, and now I knew why. 

The firey ball I saw in the sky and thought it was the sun, well it might be a sun, but not the sun. The illuminating sphere passed by and continued on in a straight line. Far beyond it I saw a dimmer, then a dimmer light which seemed to go on for eternity. If that was not enough, this was not even the only series of stars. Lines of ever dimming lights created a stelar grid as far as I could see. I stared in amazement until the new sun broke above the high, craggy mountains behind me. 

I found me a comfortable spot in the grass to lay back and took a bite from one of the pink and purple fruits. It was a little tart but very delicious. It almost seemed to melt in my mouth, and it did not take me long at all to eat the whole thing. 

I heard that familiar beeping very softly, moments before I fell to sleep. Once I began my slumber the sound became much clearer, but that made no sense for me to hear it before I fell to sleep. Perhaps I was simply anticipating it, so my mind made me think I was hearing it. What could that sound be? Every few seconds I heard the beep. For some reason that made me think of the way the “suns” in this strange world worked. 

I could see nothing but a bright blur, so I tried to focus on what I could hear. There were two voices, that was for sure. I was unable to hear what they were saying though. It was as if my ears were somehow muffled. I could not move at all. It was if my entire body was paralyzed because I was unable to make even the slightest twitch. 

Suddenly and unexpectedly a wave of indescribable pain shot through me. It was a pain unlike any I ever experienced. The anguish felt as if my skin were on fire and every major bone in my body was broken. I wanted to scream out, but I couldn’t. I could not even move enough to ask for help. This dream lasted much longer than I wanted it to, and when I did finally awake, I remembered every detail as if it happened in real life. 

For a moment I considered throwing the other two pieces of the pink and purple fruits away, but I eventually decided against that. Granted it gave me a horrible nightmare, but I don’t think my last hosts would give it to me if there was not some reason for it. I thought perhaps I had an adverse reaction to the effects of the fruit, but I did not really believe that. I believe it did exactly what it was supposed to do. Why they wanted me to go through this I did not know, but there had to be some purpose behind it. 

I once again, and with moderate difficulty, climbed the hill carpeted in the short, matted grass. I wanted to get my bearings by finding the mountain I was using as a landmark. I had no difficulty locating it, but there was a problem. I was quite sure it was much further to the right than it was when I first set out. That could not be, but there it was. After I made it back down the hill, I started walking further to the right of the mountain peak to compensate for the mountain being in the wrong place. 

In my time here in this strange place, I encountered some most unusual situations, but I do have to say a moving mountain was by far the oddest thing I saw as of yet. Perhaps the land masses were somehow floating on a massive ocean. Could these frequent quakes be the result of such islands colliding as they drifted about. If so, that raised more questions than answers.  

I pondered over the meaning of those two dreams as I continued along my way. I did not know what they were trying to tell me. Why I could hear, but only muffled voices, and why I could see but only a blurry white light I also did not understand. I wondered what effect eating both a gold and purple fruit at the same time would be. That was not something I thought I would actually want to attempt. 

A few more days passed as I traveled through the grass forest and wondering about the moving mountain. I ascended one of the carpet-like grass covered hills any time I came around one. Each time I found the mountain that was once my landmark was indeed moving further to the right. I simply could not comprehend how this was even possible. 

If I knew where I came from, how I got here and how long I was here, perhaps that would provide me with some answers. As it stood I knew no more about this place than what I experienced since waking up here. I did not know where I was, but I was positive this is not where I was from. I began entertaining the notion I somehow shifted or was abducted to some other world. That was the only explanation that seemed to make any sense. That was such a crazy notion though. 

I hoped I was still traveling in the right direction. With the mountains moving, and the outlandishly tall grass that did not allow signs of usage, I figured I could be off by tens of miles by now. I just had to keep the faith and trust my instinct to allow the mountain landmark to continue moving off to the right. 

With two more days of hiking, I finally located the camp of nomadic humans. I was beginning to think I missed them completely. No one was wearing any clothing. I was naked since I got here. I wondered if that was what happened with them too. None of the beings I met since my awakening wore anything, anything at all. 

I stood there for a moment, but as soon as someone spotted me they began to call out and becon me to them. 

People of various races and ages made up this piece-mail tribe. It really was an odd mix of people, but that was of no consequence. I was elated to find other humans besides myself. It was so good to know I was not alone. They did quite overwhelm me at first. 

Everyone wanted to introduce themselves to me, and to ask me a bit about myself. At some points I probably had ten people asking me questions. Finally someone stepped forward and moved everyone away from me. 

“Please, you must forgive us,” the aging man said. “It is not often, not often at all that we come across other humans.” 

He then gave me an open-ended invitation to join the caravan. The old man told me not to give an answer now. Instead he invited me to stay with them for a while. When they found this clearing they decided to take a break from their wandering and remain in one spot for a while. Some of them were already at work weaving the grass around the clearing into huts. Tents made of bundles of the dry reeds were set up in the clearing. 

Far on the other side of the encampment were multiple four legged creatures I did not recognize. They looked sturdy and strong, so I figured they must be the beasts of burden these humans used. If they were nomadic, they needed something to haul their wares. I figured I would learn what they are soon enough. 

A banquet was held that evening after the last sun passed by. The celebration was one of new life and rebirth. Apparently this was a holiday to them. I felt bad because everyone brought food but me. I really felt out of place with them. Their customs were obviously much different than my own. I found the whole thing had a pagan-like quality. 

Finally, after nearly two hours of prayer, everyone began to eat. I was reluctant since I brought nothing to contribute, but several of them told me not to worry about that and to go get myself some food. 

When the celebration ended, I stayed up for a while talking to one of the elders in the group. I told him what I experienced since waking up that day. We talked about some of the other species that inhabit the area. When I finally asked him if he knew how I got here, the conversation came to a halt. 

“You don’t know yet?” he asked me. 

I told him no, but I keep trying to figure that out. I then asked if he could tell me how I got here. 

“I’m sorry, but I cannot tell you that,” he replied the same reply the others gave me. 

“Why? Why won’t you tell me?” 

“It is not that we won’t. When we say we can’t, we really mean that we cannot tell you,” he explained. 

That did not make sense to me at all. They all seemed to know the answer to my question, but no one would give it to me. He acted as if everyone were physically incapable of telling me. It was as if it were more an inability than a reluctance to do so. I knew I would get no more information from him on the matter, so I pressed it no further. 

When the elder excused himself for the evening, I reached in my sack and pulled out one of the shiny golden pears. I rolled it around in my hands for several minutes, debating whether or not I should eat it. I was just about to take a bite when I heard a few people approaching me from the side. I returned the fruit to its carrier before they reached me. 

I hoped they would pass by, but instead they asked if I minded if they joined me. Why not? I wasn’t going to dream, so I might as well have the company. I guess I was visibly upset, because one of them asked me if I was alright. Initially I shrugged my shoulders and told them I was fine, but after a little prodding I began to open up. 

I explained to them everything, just as I did the elder. I told them how incredibly frustrated I was becoming because no one would give me a simple answer to a simple question. 

“That question is not so simple here,” one of them told me. I was about to say something in reply, but he continued talking. 

“Travel out to the edge. You will know it when you see it,” he said. “Rest and dream once you are there. That is how we both remembered.” 

The two gave me more information on how best to reach ‘the edge’ but neither would tell me what the edge was. We talked all the way until morning. I found out they never met the Randu, and they described several I had yet to meet. 

When the new sun appeared for the day, the two led me to one of the hard-to-climb hills to show me my destination. They pointed out the mountain I originally used as a landmark to try to find them, and told me to follow it. I thought they may be joking, but the looks on their faces seemed sincere. I thanked them, told them to say goodbye to the others for me, and set off in that direction. 

Each day I could see the mountain moved to the right some, but I continued to follow it as instructed. The grass became significantly shorter, and I encountered no other beings. After following that mountain for nearly two weeks, I reached a point where the grass stopped, only to grow in small tufts here and there, and the ground became rough and rocky. Even though I fell victim to no injury for as far back as I can remember, I took care walking over the sharp rocks. 

I was a day into transversing the rough ground when the next quake hit. This time it tossed me around much more so than any previous incident. I was not hurt, but I could not gain my footing for several minutes. This stony surface must be more susceptible to these tremors. 

Midway through the second day I believed I was coming to what the two people kept calling the edge. It appeared the landscape ended in a cliff or a steep dropoff. When I finally reached my destination, I could not comprehend what I saw. This simply could not be real. What I saw was impossible. 

The mountain I selected as a guiding landmark was indeed moving, as was every other mountain range for as far as I could see. They were not floating, they were not drifting, they were walking. Creatures unlike anything I ever imagined, creatures with bodies hundreds or even thousands of miles across roamed across an infinite ivory colored surface. The quakes were not what I thought at all. The enigmatic creatures walked on eight legs, and they walked very slowly. Each time one of the feet came back into contact with the ivory plain, it sent a shockwave through the creature’s shell. 

Three days I spent frozen in that spot, trying to comprehend what I saw. There spread out before me were an innumerable amount of walking, living mountain ranges. I wondered if they all had the same sort of surface as this, or if each one was totally unique. 

Finally on the evening of day four at the edge, I decided to eat a piece of the golden fruit and dream. It was quite refreshing. The flesh was tender, and it contained no seeds or fiberous core. It was not long before I was asleep on the rough ground. 

This time the dream was different. I was standing in a strange room. Odd devices filled the room, and several people in white were tending to a body lying on a bed. I turned to see a lady enter and approach the person who appeared to be in charge. She was asking about the man in the bed. 

That lady, I knew her somehow. She was my wife. I had a wife. So what was she doing here? 

I looked at the bed, at the body laying still with tubes running into it and wires connected to it. I looked at the familiar ring on the right hand, and I began to understand. The body was me. I ran to my wife and tried to tell her I was alright, but she could not hear or feel me. For some reason her words came out garbled and backwards. 

I tried to give my wife a hug, to embrace her one more time, but the dream wore off. I was back on the stony ground. I wished the details of this dream would go away, but I remembered it like it actually happened. I remembered it because it was real, but this was real too. 

Where was I? This helped me answer where I came from, but not where I was. It obviously wasn’t hell, but it surely did not seem like heaven. I had to get back to the elder. I was ready for answers. 

By the time I got back to the location where I met the humans, they were gone. I thought about the man’s invitation, and suddenly I knew exactly which direction to go. I walked for several days and caught up to my fellow humans. I quickly sought out the elder. 

When I found the aged man, I told him everything I discovered. 

“Good, then you know,” he said. 

“Am I dead?” I asked. 

“No,” he said as he looked down at my fruit sack. “As long as you try to hold on, you will remain in both worlds. He meant I had to give up my last two dreams; he meant dying. 

I pleaded with him to tell me where I was. 

“Now you know the truth, I can tell you. Every possible concept of a universe exists, an infinite number universes exist, thus every dream world is real. This was the dream you went to when you had your accident,” he explained. 

“But can I wake back up?” I asked in a pleading tone. 

Shaking his head the elder explained, “No. The fact you’ve been here so long means you are not going back. The most you can do is hold on and dream, but that will not last you long. You are almost out of fruit.” 

“What were those things, what is this thing we are riding? I’ve never seen or heard of any such magnificent creatures before. What are they?” 

“We call them the megaliths. I don’t know if they have a true name, but that is what the dwellers of the Ivory Plains call them.” 

“How many of them are there?” I asked. 

“The Ivory Plains go on for eternity, so I suppose the total number of them would be infinite,” the elder explained. 

“Is it possible to travel to other megaliths?” 

“Oh yes,” the elder replied. “When two come together, it is possible to move from one to the other. 

“So long as you stay on your monolith, you are immortal. Nothing can harm you and you’ve no need to eat or sleep. You will stay young forever. If you travel to another megalith, you will begin to age once again,” he told me. 

“How do you know this?” I inquired. 

He looked at me with a smile and said, “Because, I was young once like you.”

Copyright © 2023

Feature Image Created Using Gab AI Image Generator

 

That Thing in the Woods

Word Count: 4,299

Because of one careless person, hundreds of square miles of beautiful forest were now charred and black. Someone was carelessly burning leaves near a dead tree, cinders blew onto the tree and in minutes it was on fire. The rotting, insect infested trunk lit up like a torch and fell into the forest setting the dry leaves covering the ground ablaze. Having had no rain for more than a month, the anhydrous autumn leaves quickly spread the flames. The fire spread so rapidly there was nothing he could do to stop it. Within fifteen minutes ten acres were on fire. 

Underbrush no longer existed in most of the area as the vast majority of it burned away completely in the forest fire that raged through the region one week ago. The news and other media warned people to stay out of the forest for the next several weeks as fires could still be burning. Rather than heeding their warning, I ventured into the timberland anyway. I wanted to see how extensive the damage from the fire actually was. 

My backyard bordered the large forest, but firefighters were able to battle the blaze enough to keep it from reaching the houses in our neighborhood. The trees along my fence remained undamaged, but only thirty feet away the trunks were black and soft ash covered the ground. I was sure our house was going to be destroyed when the authorities finally made us evacuate. It was a relief to my whole family to find out our home remained intact. 

There was a distinct possibility of burning cinders even a week after the inferno ended. To avoid burning my legs, I wore jeans and my hunting boots along with a denim jacket. Hopefully, that would be sufficient to protect me from any rogue cinders drifting about the air or being stirred up from the ground when disturbed by my feet. 

Luckily for me, the weather was rather cool that day, so the heavy clothes were bearable on that late autumn morning. The sky was clear, and there was very little wind. Regardless, I still took some things with me like two canteens of water and a cloth to wrap around my face if the wind were to begin blowing and stirring ash into the air. Normally, I could find my way around the forest simply by looking for familiar landmarks. Being the fire may have destroyed many of those landmarks, usually oddly shaped trees and such, I decided it to be prudent to bring a compass along with me as a precautionary measure. 

Checking first to see if either of my parents were home from work yet, I saw the coast was clear, so I set off into the blackened forest. Following a five-minute walk, I reached the peak of the hill behind our neighborhood. I was dumbfounded to see the devastation that crawled through the area; I could not believe what I was seeing. 

The entire valley, with the exception of a few fortunate spots here and there, was charred and scorched black. As I gazed over the seemingly endless devastation, I could see small plumes of white smoke still rising gently into the air. It was clear there were things still burning out here, and I was going to have to be mindful of possible dangers. It was difficult to comprehend how all the things in the forest I developed a familiarity with since I was a small boy no longer existed. If not so shocked, I probably would have cried. 

Once past the initial shock of seeing the wilderness that was my childhood playground in such appalling shape, I set out across the valley. From the top of the far ridge, I could see for at least ten miles when the trees were thick and full. After seeing how bare this valley appeared to be, I guessed I would probably be able to see much farther than normal. 

Even though things did not look like they once did, I was still able to follow one of my regular walking paths through the smoldering forest. I could see one of those white plumes of smoke billowing from the ground not too far ahead of me. Initially my intention was to try to steer clear of it, but when I noticed the smoke seemed to be rising from a hole in the ground, I decided to take a closer look. 

Smoke was indeed rising from a large hole in the charred earth. As I slowly made my way closer, I wondered if I was about to look into the gates of hell. When I was about three feet away from the smoldering cavity, I felt the ground beneath my feet begin to sag. Carefully taking one small step after another, I backed away from the smoking hollow and the collapsing ground surrounding it. 

It finally dawned on me what happened here. This was once a large stump I used as one of my landmarks to help me navigate the forest. Underneath the ground, the roots of the old stump continued to burn creating the creepy smoke that made the opening in the earth look like a gateway to the underworld. 

It was no wonder why they were still warning people not to come out here into the forest. It was very possible the ground underneath me could have given way, and I would have fallen into the cavity, however deep it was. There was probably a fair chance the earth around the hole could fall in and bury me alive in the smoldering pit. I knew from here on I needed to try to avoid any areas where I saw smoke ascending from cavities in the ground. 

Continuing along my way, I kept my sight on the far edge of the valley. Like the giant stump, I imagined a lot of my landmarks no longer existed. I did not typically use the trees since so many of them looked so much alike. Instead, I used things like large fallen logs, that giant stump, and other obstacles on the ground which were easy to see from surface level. Most of the trees remained, but all the old dead wood on the forest floor along with the underbrush burned away completely. I did not need landmarks now since I could see through the blackened tree trunks all the way to the far ridge. 

As I walked between the charred, leafless trees I still had a difficult time comprehending the scope of the devastation. Things I was familiar with, places I frequented since first being allowed to play in the woods were gone. It almost felt like my childhood burned away with the forest in which I spent the majority of my waking time. All this destruction because one person did not have enough sense to burn leaves at a safe distance from an old dead tree trunk. 

I really did not want to think about this, but I could not help but wonder how many animals were unable to escape the blaze and burned to death. It made me want to vomit. Sure, I was a hunter. I killed all sorts of game animals in my time, but we always ate what we killed. I never shot anything just for the fun of it aside from cans and other inanimate targets. To think about all the poor animals that died in this fire amplified the magnitude of the devastation in my mind by tenfold. 

Many of the hardwood trees still had branches, although the smaller limbs burned away. The pine trees looked like giant black spikes protruding from the ground; their needles and limbs completely burned away, but the thick bark shielded the living cores. It was a haunting sight indeed. I had hopes at least some of the trees would survive. The hardwood trees would probably come back, but I did not think as many of the pines would recover. 

Finally, I made it to the top of the far ridge. I could not believe my eyes. As far as I could see was nothing but burned timber. I took a few drinks from one of my canteens and continued my journey. There were a few houses not too far from here, so I decided to head in that direction. Most of the phone lines were still down. I never got a chance to talk to any of my friends to see how they fared in the blaze, but I did not hear of anyone getting hurt or dying. That kind of information spread quickly in a tight knit community like ours, therefore I was confident there were no human fatalities. Regardless, I wanted to go check to see for myself if they were okay or not. 

As I walked across the ash covered ground, I noticed something glimmering in the bright late-morning sunlight. Curious, I went over to see what it was. It looked like a transparent gelatinous blob of some sort. Since I could not pick up a stick to poke the object, I decided to give it a tap with the toe of my boot. It was solid whatever it was. 

Getting down close to the object, I got a much better look at it. It was a soda bottle someone left littering the forest at some time. When the inferno raged through the area, it was evidently hot enough to melt glass. Not really thinking about what I was doing, I reached out to pick up the deformed bottle. Even after a week the glass was still hot enough to cause my hand to sizzle when I made contact with it. 

Abruptly tossing the molten bottle back to the ground, I quickly poured some of the water from my canteen on my throbbing hand. Simply by looking at it, I could tell my left palm was going to blister. My skin charred white in two places, and I could visibly discern the change as my palm began turning red. 

Retrieving the cloth I brought to protect my face if the air became too ashy; I wrapped it around my burnt hand instead. Normally I would be able to pick one of several plants to help ease the severity of my wound, but alas the fire destroyed everything growing at ground level. There was nothing left with which to medicate my palm. 

Given my injured status, I pondered over whether I should go ahead and turn back or not. After a few minutes of musing over my options, I decided to roam on a little further. I did not think my hand was so severely burned that I needed to seek out medical attention; it would do fine enough for me to tend to it when I finally made it home again. Explaining the injury to my parents would be difficult; that’s for sure. 

Continuing my trek through what was once a full, thick forest, I veered away from my course when I saw something else gleaming on the forest floor. Whatever this thing was, it was much larger than the molten soda bottle I burned my hand on earlier. The closer I got, the better I was able to get a look at the object. 

The thing appeared to be made from some sort of metal, copper perhaps. I remembered this location because of a huge mass of vegetation that accumulated over the decades, and I was sure this object is where that ancient heap of vines and other plants once rested. All these years we played around that mass, we never stopped to consider there might be something inside of it. The fire burned away the concealing foliage exposing this artifact that was hidden for who knows how long. 

It was large. Three feet of the irregularly shaped object with its faceted-like surface protruded from the blackened earth. I could not guess as to how much of the relic remained buried. It was indeed made from some sort of metal, but of what kind I did not know. It almost looked like glass filled with little flakes of gold and platinum, but when I tapped it using my canteen it made a distinct metallic sound. 

I did not feel any heat radiating from this strange object even when I got up close to get a better look. I could not see any seams to indicate this was formed from multiple components, but I was sure it sounded hollow when I tapped it with my metal water vessel. As I walked in a circle around the mysterious object, I noticed some strange symbols or chevrons on the sides and front face. These symbols were very faint and could only be seen when I was standing at a certain angle from the sun. 

Wanting to feel the relic with my own hand, I first poured a bit of my canteen water on it to see if it steamed or sizzled or anything. I already burned one hand; I did not want to burn the other. The water harmlessly rolled down the object until it reached the base and absorbed into the ashen soil. Repeating the process, I received the same results as the first time. The thing was not even hot enough to affect a thin stream of warm water. 

Getting much closer to the object, I wanted to look at the metal as closely as I could. Never in my life had I seen or heard of any metal that looked like this. It appeared to be uniform in color, although the smooth surface was very sparkly. From the proper angle, I could see the shine of the metal seemed to take on a slightly varying tone, which is what created the obscure symbols on the thing. 

Very cautiously, I reached my hand out, quickly touching the object then withdrawing my hand. I did this a few times before I maintained contact for a second or two. This did not seem possible. Even days after the fire burned out, that glass bottle stayed hot enough to badly burn my hand, but this alien thing in front of me was cold. The blaze that ripped through the forest burned away the centuries of plant growth that covered the strange object. If that thing was metal, as it appeared to be, I would think it would still be at least warm to the touch. 

There was no scorching on the frigid artifact protruding from the ground either. Even if it did not heat up enough in the fire to warp the metal, there should still be black soot and smoke residue built up on its surface. Instead, the thing looked like someone finished polishing it only moments ago. I could not imagine how something could stay in such pristine condition after having suffered through the inferno that destroyed so much of these rolling hills.  

I probably spent at least an hour examining the peculiar artifact before deciding to try touching it again. When pushing it over with my foot did not work, I knelt down and tried lifting it. Since I could not use my left hand, I pressed the inside of my forearm against it and using my right hand, I tried lifting it. A surge of energy passed through my body, and I fell backward onto the ground. 

It did not seem like I lost consciousness, but when I touched the object, it was around ten in the morning. When I stood back up after the jolt of energy, the sun indicated it was closer to two in the afternoon. Already having burned my hand and receiving a shock from that unusual metal object, I decided it was best not to push my luck any further. I could come back and examine the object further when the forest finished smoldering. 

Something did not seem right. Feeling very disoriented, I began to experience a churning in the pit of my stomach. I continued a little further before I realized I was walking in the wrong direction. The valley ridge was behind me, and I should have been heading towards it. Whatever that shock I received was, it must have seriously knocked the sense out of me. Even with most of my landmarks gone, I still knew this area very well. I did not understand how I could walk in the wrong direction for nearly twenty minutes. 

Making my way back to the cryptic artifact, I continued on until I reached the valley ridge. When I stepped over the top of the hill, I grew dizzy and confused. I walked this route many times, but there was undoubtedly something amiss. An emergency room visit may be prudent after receiving that strange jolt of energy. Nothing seemed right ever since I tried to pull that artifact from the ground. 

Stopping to drink the remainder of the first canteen of water, I looked around for any remaining landmarks nearby. I saw nothing that looked familiar anymore; the fire destroyed virtually everything on the ground except for the trees. While most of the trees looked like they would recover from this disaster, the same could not be said about the dead logs, tree stumps and underbrush. 

I was happy to finally reach the other side of the ridge, because my home was not far beyond there. Cresting the hill, I could see our house a short distance away. I continued to get those overwhelming feelings of confusion and dizziness as I had since making an attempt to lift that cryptic artifact. As I came down the hill, I noticed something that stopped me dead in my tracks. I was indeed looking at my house from behind, but it did not take me long to realize everything was inverted. Everything was there like it should be, but it was all reversed. 

Could that mysterious object I found have shocked me so bad that I was seeing things backwards? 

That might explain the confusion, disorientation and how I managed to walk in the wrong direction for nearly half an hour. It was difficult for me to accept this possibility because everything otherwise appeared in perfect clarity. I would think if that thing jolted me hard enough to make me see things backwards, I would have issues with blurriness and double vision. 

This could not be happening. I must still be unconscious on the forest floor dreaming up this whole thing. This simply could not be real. Everything was exactly as it should be, but as a mirror version of itself. I would swear this was a dream if it were not for the pain I felt in my hand, my right hand. 

My whole body began to tremble as I was overcome with panic and anxiety. Holding my hands out in front of me, I could see there were no blisters on my left hand anymore, and my right hand was wrapped in a cloth to help protect it. It was not only everything around me that was a mirror image; I was a mirror image of myself. 

What could be going on here? Did that mysterious artifact I found in the forest do something to me that scrambled my mind, my memory? 

No, it could not be. Apart from the intense trepidation I was now experiencing, I felt otherwise normal. I could not believe that my brain could be zapped so hard it made me remember everything in reverse without otherwise somehow affecting me. 

Was I in the wrong place? Was it possible the artifact was some sort of key or doorway that sent me to a world that mirrored my own? 

That made more sense to me than to think I was just crazy enough that I remembered everything backwards. That strange metal that was frigid to the touch was like nothing I ever saw or heard of before now. Those runes, chevrons or whatever they were must be some sort of instructions or a warning perhaps. I needed to get back to that object and use it to return to my own world. 

Turning around, I ran back up to the valley ridge as quickly as I could. I did not want anyone to see me because I was afraid they would figure out I was an alien to this world. Once I crested the ridge, I knelt down for a moment to catch my breath and take a few sips of water. 

Trying to take into consideration everything was the antithesis to what I knew, I started down the ridge and into the valley. Making my way back to the relic protruding from the ground might not be as easy as I initially hoped it would. 

As I was walking back across the blackened forest valley floor, I encountered a small bit of fortune when I came across the path I made through the ash covered ground earlier. Now I did not have to try to think backwards to find my way to the artifact. All I needed to do was follow my tracks across the valley and over the far ridge. 

I looked up toward the sun to get an idea of the time. According to the position of the blazing orb in the sky, it was close to eleven o’clock in the morning. It was positioned at two in the afternoon when I got back to my feet, so that meant even the sun moved in the opposite direction in this world. In that case, it was sometime around one o’clock in the afternoon. 

I thought four hours lapsed between my touching the artifact and regaining consciousness. Now I realized no time passed at all. The sun moved, as I knew it, from two hours before noon to two hours after noon. 

I still wanted to tell myself this was a terrifying dream, but I knew better. It was not only the pain in my hand that made me believe this was real. The bitter taste in my dry mouth, the smell of the burned vegetation all around me, and the vividness of the scorched forest indicated this was all without a doubt real. 

The excursion seemed so much longer than it did earlier, and I was pushing myself at a faster pace. I wanted to get back to the artifact and try to get back home, back to the world in which I was born. The distress of the whole situation made the journey seem much longer than it was. 

Both a sense of relief and of dread passed over me as I saw the strange object protruding from the ground. Although everything in this world was a reversed image to my world, the relic in the ground remained exactly as it was when I first found it. I tried reading the symbols hidden in the shine of the metal again, but they meant nothing to me. None of them was even close to something I could recognize. 

Standing in front of the thing for at least ten minutes, I pondered over what to do. I was sure the thing would activate if I wrapped my arms around it like I did the first time, but I had no assurances at all it would send me back to where I belonged. 

Carefully I tried to position myself in front of the artifact just as I did before. The problem was I was not thinking about it then, so I could not remember exactly how I approached it the first time. Doing the best I could to copy my earlier actions, I wrapped my arm and my hand around the object and pulled. Again, a surge of energy coursed through my body which again threw me to the ground. 

The very first thing I did upon regaining my senses was to raise my hands before my face. To my unending relief, the burn and bandage was once again on my left hand. The sun was where it should be in the sky, and the forest was still a charred disaster. I was not sure if I was back in my own world or not, but it felt right enough. Nothing about that other world felt right at all, but this place did. 

Heading back toward my house, I knew it would almost be dark by the time I got back. I was being careful as I walked since it was becoming difficult to locate the smoldering cavities in the ground. Walking through here was dangerous during the bright of day, but it would be downright treacherous in the dark. 

Arriving at the valley ridge behind our house, I saw everything looked like it was supposed to look. Before going any closer, I examined the houses and lawns of the neighbors, even going so far as to make sure the bicycles in the back yards were the right color.  

I made a futile attempt to level my breathing and stop the trembling in my hands, but the anxiety was simply too much to suppress. Looking at the back of my house, I could not help but wonder if this was really my house, or simply another reflection of it in the universe. My feet felt like lead as I tried to push myself forward to what was hopefully the comfort and safety of my own home. I climbed atop some milk crates to look inside the window to see if it was indeed my family inside. 

Before looking into the window, I had to wonder. If this was not my native universe, was I ever going to find my way back home? Would it do me any good to return to the forest and continue trying to properly activate that thing in the woods? 

Copyright © 2023

Man in the Attic

Word Count: 9,011

The community in which I spent my childhood years was old to say the least. Some of the houses surpassed two hundred years in age, and many of the trees were even older. Old, faded red brick roads lined with flagstone curbs still dominated the area as opposed to the few newly paved streets found nearby. Venerable oak trees located in most every yard provided the entire area with a cool shade during the hot summers and helped shield the wind during the cold winters. 

As children, we probably spent more time playing in the thick sturdy limbs of those trees than we did romping around on the ground. The massive trunks supported thick limbs that were the perfect climbing places for young children enjoying the freedom of a summer out of school. We played spaceship, we played submarine, we played just about everything our active imaginations could conjure in the branches of those trees. 

A few of the kids in the area had treehouses, but the absolute best climbing tree was in a vacant lot across from “the house.” I cannot account for other neighborhoods, but ours had that one house all the kids spun curious rumors about while at the same time all were afraid to approach. During most daylight hours, and even somehow in the dark one could see the man sitting at the attic window. 

No one ever saw the man get up or return; he was either there or he wasn’t. Even before I was allowed to venture beyond the boundaries of our yard on my own, I heard the other kids tell stories about “the house” and the strange man at the window. Some children said it was not a man at all, that it was in fact a ghost. Other children said he was a prisoner the family trapped in the attic, but the most popular story was the man at the window was once a patient at a mental hospital. Variations in the story said he escaped or that his family broke him out of the institution. Now they kept their insane relative locked in the attic of that massive three-century old home. 

I remember the first time I was allowed to leave our street without my parents’ supervision, the first thing I wanted to do was go see this spooky man in the window all the kids gossiped so constantly about. Around the corner and a few blocks away, some of the neighborhood kids were gathering together for a squirt gun war. We were all to meet around the largest oak tree in the neighborhood, at the tree in the lot across from “the house.” 

Arriving to find no one in the attic window, I was more than a little disappointed. All my life I heard these other kids talking about the strange man, possibly an apparition in the attic of this magnificent dwelling, and I arrived to find nothing. I wanted to ask the other kids, but I was afraid I might get teased about it if I brought up the subject. 

More than a month passed, and yet still I never saw the man in the attic window. I really began to believe he was nothing more than a myth some of the neighborhood kids cooked up to scare the younger kids. From what the others said, it made it seem like he was there almost all the time. We only had two weeks of summertime left when I finally got my first look at the man in the window. 

There did not seem to be anything particularly striking about him one way or another. I was still a small child, so I could not provide any sort of accurate judgement of his age. Everyone high school age and up looked like adults to me. I could not see his face well enough to see if he had wrinkles, but I was able to make out his graying hair. His hair was long – it was considered long for that period in time at least – and looked like it had not been brushed in weeks. 

Everything about him seemed normal to me from where I was standing. He stared out the window; I am presuming he was looking at the tree in the vacant lot as that seemed to be where he had his gaze fixed. I continued to watch the man in the window, but when he turned his gaze on me cold chills ran throughout my body. 

There was something about that gaze that terrified me. It felt like he was reaching into my imagination pulling forward every fear I knew. I wanted to run, but all I could do was stand there and stare back. I wanted to get away from this street, but it felt like my feet were rooted to the ground. When faced with this fight or flight situation, I instinctively chose the third option and did nothing. 

The blank look on the man’s face reminded me of how my uncle looked laying in a casket at the funeral home last spring. I watched him turn his head to look at me, but there did not look like he had any life in his eyes. I may have stood there for minutes or hours as time seemed to stop the instant the man looked at me. 

Finally, I was able to break free from the spell the man had on me, and I ran as fast as I could all the way home. I cut through the next-door neighbor’s yard where he had the sprinkler out watering his lawn. More than a few times I was told to stay out of their sprinkler, but I was not outside playing this time. I was terrified out of my mind and running for the safety of home. 

My mother was there when I got home, but she was in the kitchen preparing dinner. Without saying a word, I ran up the hardwood stairs up to my bedroom. Grabbing my favorite stuffed animal, a black and brown dog, I jumped into my bed and held my Doggy tightly against my chest. 

A few minutes later there was a light knock at my door. It was my mother asking me if I was okay. I told her I was fine, but she opened the door and stepped in to check on me anyway. I was afraid I would get in trouble if I told her the truth, so every time she asked me what was wrong, I told her I was fine. Eventually she told me if I needed to talk, she would be downstairs in the kitchen. 

As a child, I did not realize I was clearly showing my mother everything was not okay by the way I sat in my bed holding Doggy. Young minds do not think of things like this, so I thought I pulled something over on Mom. I did not think then of how much body language can reveal about someone. My mother knew something was wrong with me, but she knew pushing me only made me grow quieter and more withdrawn. 

The rest of the summer I avoided the part of the neighborhood with “the house.” If the other kids were playing in the vacant lot, I found something else to do. I was not sure what it was that terrified me so, but taking the chance of that man in the attic looking at me was not something I was willing to risk. It did not take me long to realize I was not the only one afraid to go to that block anymore. None of the other kids said they were afraid of the dead-eyed man, but the fact they never played around there told me they were as scared of him as I was. 

In the immediate neighborhood, the road in front of that house was the one with the least amount of traffic. Like most of the north to south roads in the area, this road was still the original granite cobble stone surface. Both made this a desirable place for children to want to play. 

The leaves were beginning to change color before my fear of that man in the window began to subside enough that I was able to go and play on that block again. I tried not to, but virtually every time I turned toward that house, my gaze instantly darted up to that attic window. As all the kids played on or around that ancient oak tree in the vacant lot allowing our imaginations to take us to faraway places, I could not help but constantly wonder if that man was at the window. 

Over the course of the school year, I observed that man in the window three more times. The second time was in the middle of the winter, and temperatures were getting well below freezing. That man sat there in the window wearing no scarf or jacket that I could see. How he did not freeze to death seated by that open window I will never know. 

The third time I saw the man in the attic was during early spring of the next year. His hair was always unkempt, and he looked to me as if he were seriously malnourished. I wondered if he went up to the attic because he liked sitting by the window, or if the rumors were true and his family was keeping him locked up. 

That was when it occurred to me, I never saw this supposed family of his. Never once in all the time I spent playing on that block did I see anyone come or go from that house. I did see lights switch on and off at night, but the heavy curtains obscured any shadows that might indicate who was inside. 

No cars ever parked outside of the house, but it did have a two-car garage built out of what was once a large wood-working shop. Neither of the garage doors had windows, and neither did the garage’s exit door. There was no way for anyone to get a look inside to see if there were any cars parked inside, but it is not like any of the children in the neighborhood had the nerve to get close enough to look anyway. 

Several years passed, and I continued to see that strange man in the window. Sometimes he did not look quite so bad, but other times he looked like an animated corpse. Regardless of how many times I witnessed that man in the attic, I still never got over the chills that came over me every time his gaze crossed mine. 

I was eleven years-old and some when friends and I pulled one over on our parents, and we stayed out all night. My parents thought I was spending the night with Scott, Scott’s parents thought he was spending the night with Andy, and so on. There were five of us in all. We took great care to stay quiet so we did not alert any of the neighbors, who in turn would probably call our parents, and we tried to stick to the darkness as much as possible. 

Vacant lots and patches of forest remained throughout the neighborhood, so it was not difficult for us to stay away from the streetlights, the roads and out of sight of any passing cars. We began our night in one of the newer sections of the neighborhood, which was fifteen blocks from my house. As the night passed, and we goofed around, we made our way closer and closer to the old section of the neighborhood. 

Eventually we found ourselves at the vacant lot across the street from “the house.” It was after ten o’clock and there was no light on in the attic, so we could not see if that sickly man was sitting there or not. We did although, see lights through several of the ground floor windows. As always, the curtains were pulled, and it was impossible to discern if any of the rooms were currently occupied. 

We started discussing the different rumors we heard about this house and its occupants, and it was not long before we started daring each other to approach the three-century-old house more closely. Quickly scurrying across the street, my friends and I ran to the adjacent house and hid behind the mass of shrubbery filling part of the lawn. We crouched down low as we made our way across the cobblestone road as if that was somehow going to make us less visible under the streetlights at both ends of the block. For the others I could not say, but this was the closest to “the house” as I ever was before. 

I had a bad feeling about this and a sinking in my gut, but I was afraid to say anything out of fear of being teased and labeled a chicken by all my friends. My four friends continued to whisper and dare each other to get closer, but I crouched there behind the bushes with my mouth closed. I neither provoked nor accepted any dares. This was the nearest to this old domicile as I ever wanted to be. 

Eventually Scott and Byron goaded Matthew and Andy to approach the solid old structure to try to see something through the window located next to the door on the side of the house. Cowering down as low as they could and still move, our two friends slowly approached “the house” until they finally reached the curtain obscured window. They were now officially closer to the building than any kid in our neighborhood during our lifetime was. 

Matthew and Andy reached the large, curtain obscured window next to the door on the side of the house. As I watched them try to get a peek through the overlap in the curtains, I wanted nothing more than to flee as fast as I could. I knew doing so would keep me labeled a chicken for the rest of my childhood and possibly on into my adulthood. Despite how desperately I wanted to leave, I stayed hiding in the evergreen bushes with Scott and Byron. 

My heart was beating so hard in my chest I could almost hear it. With our eyes focused on Matt and Andy, the remaining three of us did not see the oaken door slowly swing open. Andy noticed the door open at some point. Grabbing Matthew by the shoulder, Andy told him to run. Instead of running, Matt looked up at the figure standing in there in the shadow of the portal. 

The other three of us waved our hands frantically and told our friends to get moving. We could not see what was standing in the doorway, but whatever it was it made Matthew freeze like I did the first time the man in the attic turned his gaze upon me. Andy pulled Matt so hard, it made Matt fall onto the ground. Scott panicked and ran. I wanted to run with him, but I could not leave Matt and Andy behind. Byron and I, against our better judgement, ran over to “the house” to help Andy get Matt off the ground and running. 

It took the three of us literally lifting Matthew off the ground as best we could and dragging him off like he was unconscious. We got him half-way through the neighboring lawn before he started to show some signs of awareness. Within sixty seconds his faculties returned, and with his wits about him Matt ran with the rest of us as fast as we could away from this horrific place. 

We never could get Matthew to tell us what he saw when he looked up into the doorway. He quickly tired of our prodding and began to grow angry with us for our repeated inquiries. At one point he almost shoved Byron to the ground for asking him what was in the doorway. It did not take long to become obvious Matt was not going to talk about what he saw, what made him freeze like he did. I could not help but wonder if he even remembered after seeing the reaction he had. 

We spent the rest of the night hiding in some woods in the same vicinity as when we started our adventure. Scott was nowhere to be found, so we all assumed he ran home scared. The rest of us waited until it was close to eight in the morning before going home. We all wanted to go home last night, but we would get busted for sneaking out if we got back to our houses too early. 

I saw Scott the next day after getting caught up on some sleep. He said he was hiding in the same patch of forest where we started our adventure last night, and he expected us to return there after getting Matthew off the ground. When we did not return, Scott was afraid something terrible happened to us. I explained our escape and how we spent the night hiding in woods only a few blocks from him. 

Byron caught up to me and Scott as we neared his block. His first reaction was to ask us if we saw Matthew yet today. I was sure Byron was going to ask Matt about last night, and I asked him to please not bring up the subject. Whatever Matt saw instilled such terror in him that he went into a state of shock. My suggestion was to not bring up or talk about the subject unless Matt initiated the conversation. 

Andy finally joined us a little more than an hour before it was time for everyone to return home for the night. The three of us questioned Andy about what happened last night, but he said he did not see anything. Andy told us he looked up and saw the door open, and that was why he tried to get Matt to run. He never looked into the doorway to see who was inside. 

We did not finally see Matt until more than a week after that terrifying night. He got into an argument with his father which ended up turning physical. Growing into a hysterical rage, Matt attacked his father with his bare fists. Subduing a twelve-year-old was no trouble for his father, but that was absolutely unlike our friend to do something like that. He idolized his father, always talking about how cool he was, and how he wanted to be like his father when he grew up. 

Over the course of the next few months, we watched our friend Matthew change from a promising student to one of the kids who spent more time in detention than they did in class. He wanted less and less to do with us, accusing us of not being his friends because we left him like we did. When we tried to explain to him we did not leave him, he accused us of lying. On one occasion he got into a fist fight with Andy over the subject. 

Before that school year was even at an end, Matt stopped having anything to do with us at all. The rest of us were fed up with his attitude and his accusations, so we did not find his absence upsetting. To tell the truth, we found it a relief to not have him around anymore. 

Rarely did we discuss what happened that night when we were trying to get a peek inside that mysterious house, but it did come up on occasion. No one knew what Matthew saw, so we were baffled at his instant change in behavior. We could not imagine what he could possibly have observed that made him change from a star pupil to an aggressive thug. 

As the years passed, some of the historic homes were demolished to make room for newer, more tightly packed houses with small lawns, but most of my neighborhood remained the same. During this time I watched many houses undergo renovations, repairs and receiving fresh coats of paint, but “the house” across from the vacant lot never seemed to age. At this point I realized no one ever cut the grass. No one ever trimmed the hedges, yet they all stayed in great condition. 

I continued to see that man sitting in the attic window of “the house.” Despite all the years that passed, the man in the window did not appear to be growing any older, although his hair continued to grow and was cut somewhat frequently. 

Although it did not affect me so intensely as it did when I was a child, I still got a sinking feeling I was being watched from beyond the grave every time his gaze passed over me. Even if I was not even facing the man’s direction, I could feel it every time he looked at me. I could feel those cold lifeless eyes looking at me. Some nights that blank stare haunted my dreams, almost always preventing me from achieving a healthy night’s sleep. 

I could not help but wonder if the man in the attic knew I was one of the kids there that night. I wondered if he knew all of our identities. Whatever was in that doorway probably got a good look at Matt and Andy, but the rest of us were only in the open long enough to grab Matt’s limp body off the ground. 

When he looked at me with those soulless eyes, did he know I was one of the prowlers outside his house that night we decided to try to get a closer look? 

The more I pondered this possibility, the less time I wanted to spend on that block. I was not the only one. Andy started hanging out with some kids on the other side of the neighborhood. He never really gave us a reason why he ditched Byron, Scott and me, but I always suspected it was because he wanted to stay as far away from “the house” as he could. 

In the early part of our summer vacation, I developed a crush on a girl in my class. I was more than elated when I found my feelings were reciprocated. Byron and Scott were worried this would end our friendship, but she was happy hanging out with the three of us. Sure, we wanted some time alone now and then, but my connection with my two oldest friends remained strong. 

Candice lived on the opposite side of “the house” from me, and only saw it two times in her entire life. She asked us if the stories were true, and we told her the truth. We did not get into the various rumors about “the house,” but we did tell her about our experiences seeing the man in the attic as well as our prowling attempt. 

This seemed to excite her, and she wanted us to take her so she could see him for herself. For nearly a week we rejected Candice’s requests to go and see the man in the attic, but when she said she was going to go by herself if we did not take her, we finally gave in. We were in young love, and she became friends with Byron and Scott very quickly. No one wanted her going there on her own out of fear for her safety. 

The next day the four of us met at my house and headed to the vacant lot with the neighborhood’s most ancient tree. Candice marveled over the cobblestone streets, which were replaced with paved roads on her side of the neighborhood. She was also quite impressed with the climbing tree across the street from “the house.” The four of us climbed up into the tree and made ourselves comfortable. 

She probably thought we were fooling with her when we told her not to stare at the window if it was empty. No one ever saw him get up or sit down, so if she watched the window, the man would not appear. Even so, she went along with us. We lazed around the massive oak for perhaps an hour or so when Byron told us the man was there. 

Grinning from ear to ear, Candice turned to look at the local legendary man in the attic. The moment she turned, the man in the window quickly turned his head to gaze straight at my girlfriend. She froze instantly, and I remembered that look on her face. Scott and I immediately jumped out of the tree and told Candice to come down. I wanted to get her away from here, but she was frozen in place. 

Candice did not react to us and appeared to not even hear us. I tugged her leg lightly, but she continued to stare back at the man in the attic. I turned and started screaming at the man. I only walked as far as the sidewalk, but I called the man a creep, a monster and several other descriptive words. I was trying to make him cease his staring at Candice. It worked, and the man stopped staring at her which released her from her paralysis. 

I managed to get the man in the attic to stop whatever it was he was doing to my girlfriend, and I drew his attention to me instead. He did not give me that blank stare I came to know over the last seven years. This time his brow furrowed, and an angry scowl covered his face. I was terrified to my core. Until now all I ever did was passively attract his attention, but now I clearly made the man in the attic angry. 

Running back over to my friends, we all ran until we were two blocks away from “the house” before we stopped to catch our breath. Candice began crying, and I took her in my arms. I assured her everything was okay, and we would never go near “the house” ever again. 

“Yes we well,” she cried. “He showed me.” 

At this point she progressed from crying to bawling. I did my best to try and console her, but she was becoming hysterical. Candice did not stop sobbing until she tired herself out. We took her to Byron’s house because it was the closest and had a gazebo in the back yard where we could sit. 

We all sat there in silence for what seemed like an eternity when Scott finally asked Cynthia what she meant when she said he showed her. She said it was just that. When he gazed into her eyes, she saw the four of us following someone to “the house” at night. The person went inside, and eventually we followed. 

There was another long uncomfortable silence, then Byron said he had a nightmare a few nights ago in which he experienced the same thing. Neither of them knew the identity of the individual we followed, but they clearly remember the four of us being present. The more they tried to remember, the more they forgot until they only had vague recollections. 

Right then and there we made a pact that none of us would come within a block of that building. From now on we did our hanging around on the west side of the neighborhood, far away from “the house.” I silently prayed their visions were of what could happen, not what would happen. 

Another school year came and went. Matthew was expelled at the end of the first semester for getting into two fights. He injured one boy fairly severely, for which he was put on probation and house arrest. Starting that night he stared up at whatever stood in the doorway of “the house,” Matthew was not the same person. Something about what he saw changed him, made him virtually unrecognizable. 

Candice and I continued to “go together” throughout the school year and into the summer. The four of us spent a lot of time sitting in Byron’s family’s gazebo. We were surrounded by rich green foliage and a massive oak tree providing additional shade from the summer sun. His family’s lawn was large even for this area, and contained many hedges and flowerbeds. It was a soothing place to be. 

We never did discuss the man in the attic after talking about it following our last encounter, but it was something that remained dwelling in all our minds. All of us swore we would never go near that house again, but if Candice’s vision and Byron’s dream were prophetic, we might not have a choice. I had to know more about this house and who occupied it.  

Candice and I decided to take the bus to the city hall to see what we could dig up on the house and its owners. The task proved to be more time-consuming than we thought, and we got very little accomplished the first day. We went back several times over the next three weeks trying to find anything that might unlock the secrets of “the house.” 

We could not find when the house was built, but it was the first house in this whole area before other houses started building around it. The first deed we could find for the house listed the date as April 22, 1823, which made “the house” older than we originally thought. Construction on several houses began before the deed to “the house” was signed, and according to an old newspaper clip, the mysterious house was here several decades before the next log structures. 

I was comparing copies of the deed for the building through the years and found something very strange. After the initial deed, the following deeds were signed forty years apart in every case. Even though the names were different, I could tell they were all penned by the same hand. Five different deeds spanning two hundred years all used the same handwriting. I made photo copies of all of the deeds to take home with me. 

Candice in the meantime found an article that could possibly explain everything. On the evening of June 28, 1833, a small black object fell from the sky like a shooting star, The object only damaged a single building, but the next day when everyone went to look, “the house” healed on its own. Reports ran in the local newspapers, but the non-local newspapers reported it as a hoax. 

According to one report we found, the neighbors tried to get the residents of “the house” to come out, but they never received a response. It was thought they might be deceased, but lights shining though the curtains at night suggested the people were still home. The occupants only left at night, and every time someone tried to follow them, the spy would find their target vanished in the darkness. 

Candice and I got copies of everything we were allowed to copy and made notes from the things we could not. After we compiled the documents and notes, we got them organized and brought what we found to our friends. They all thought we were joking with them, but we assured them this was all real. After the laughter from the initial joking ended, everyone grew quiet. 

We showed them everything we had, and this revelation terrified every one of them just as it did me and Candice when we found this information. We started to speculate on what could really be happening with “the house” and the man in the attic. Theories spanned through everything from flying saucers to something being cast out of Heaven. We all agreed on one thing, it was whatever fell from the sky that transmuted the properties of time for “the house.” 

As we discussed the possibilities, we eventually came to the same conclusion on the house. Whatever fell from the sky possessed the entire structure. “The house” was alive. 

What of the occupants of “the house”? Was one of these occupants the man in the attic? 

Learning what we did, we all found ourselves wanting to go back to that block and see “the house” once more. None of us went near that area for the next few weeks, and we all spent a little time doing some research on the history of that historic domicile. Everything new we discovered helped confirm what we learned already. 

Something we all found strange, given the context of the situation, was the newspaper reports about the house ended abruptly. The Editor in Chief of one of the larger newspapers visited “the house” for himself. He never talked about his experience, but he immediately stopped having the newspaper reporting on “the house.” 

Scott proposed we burn the house down. Initially we all thought he was kidding around, but the look on his face told us he was absolutely serious. That made us all take a pause, as we believed he was right but did not think we should commit arson. We knew performing an exorcism would yield no positive results after reading multiple articles about the ritual being done on ‘the house” to no avail. 

Why have the adults, the city never done anything about this? 

When we were ready to disperse and go about our night, several of us took a walk that brought us only blocks away from the street upon which it remained for hundreds of years. We did not plan on getting anywhere near “the house,” but something we saw caused us to alter our plans. 

At the moment we were walking an east to west street, and walking under the street lights ahead we saw Matt. We were clearly not the only ones thinking about it, because we saw our former friend carrying a can of gasoline with him. There was no doubt in any of our minds that he was headed for “the house.” 

We knew we had to stop him, but he was too far away for us to call out to him. If we started yelling that loud at this time of the evening, we would receive a visit from the police. Instead, we increased our pace to a jog in an attempt to catch up to him. By the time we made it around that corner and then the next, Matt was already on the lawn of “the house.” 

Cynthia suddenly began trembling as a look of panic and terror covered her face. She became hysterical so quickly, we had no time to react. Her legs gave out underneath her and she crumpled toward the ground. Byron managed to catch her from behind, and I caught her arm and armpit. Gently lowering her to a seated position, we tried to calm her down. 

“This is what I saw. We’re all going to die,” Candice cried. Over and over she repeated those two ominous phrases. 

I looked at Byron to see what his reaction was, as his dream previously corroborated Candice’s vision. Unfortunately, too many of the details faded from his memory, and Byron had no information to offer on the situation. Only a few houses away I could see the sillouette of my former friend Matthew, emptying the contents of the gasoline can around the back side of “the house.” Finally I told Byron to stay with Candice, and I ran as fast as I could to try to stop Matt before he killed someone. 

I could not run fast enough, and Matt sorely underestimated the flammability of gasoline fumes. He probably thought he was going to light a match, throw it on the gas and run. Instead, the instant he struck the match, the fumes in the air ignited. Matt was engulfed in flames as the can in his hand spewed a cone of fire. Frantically, I searched for some way to stop the blaze, but there was nothing I could do. Helplessly, I listed to his agonized cries as the heat cooked his flesh. 

I did not think things could be more horrific, but then something happened that turned my blood to ice. “The house” began drawing in the flames. Never would I have imagined this had I not witnessed it with my own eyes. I could literally see the fire soaking into the house like a sponge, leaving the old building completely undamaged. As the flames drew into the building, Matt was drawn in with them. His body continued to burn as he screamed and pleaded for me to help him. 

I wanted to help. I wanted to do something, but all I could do is stand there in horror. I could hear Matt screaming until the building absorbed him completely. There was nothing I could do. Matt brought this upon himself, and he was gone. I turned and ran back to help my girlfriend. 

Candice threw her arms around me as she continued to sob. She and Byron both watched the entire scene unfold from no more than a block away. I squeezed her tight as my body trembled in horror. The image of Matt’s body set ablaze, watching and hearing his skin sizzle as he was burned alive was etched clearly in my mind. I held Candice for a moment, but then I told them we needed to run. 

Finally stopping when we reached my back yard, we stayed huddled together in a patch of trees at the edge of the property. This was somewhere we frequently sat and shot the breeze, and we felt safe – as safe as one could feel after an experience like this – and comfortable. For over an hour we sat there in silence, none of us able to think of anything to say. 

Byron broke the silence when he cleared his throat and asked, “Did that happen? Did that really happen? 

Candice and I continued staring into nothing, and when I finally got the nerve to speak I assured him it indeed did happen. After that we continued to sit in silence. It was late, and we were past our curfews, but none of us wanted to move. I finally told Candice I would walk her home. There was no way I could know this, but I told her she would be safe at her house. Tomorrow we would get together and try to put some reasoning behind what we saw, or what we thought we saw. It was still virtually impossible to believe “the house” consumed the flames and my former friend. I saw it with my own eyes from no more than forty feet away, but I still struggled to comprehend it was real. 

I returned home right in time to catch my parents before they were finally going to bed after waiting up for me. They yelled at me for a few minutes, but were much too tired by the time I arrived to yell for long. I knew I was going to get an earful tomorrow, but hoped I would not be grounded for missing my curfew by several hours. 

I scarcely slept at all that night, and during my time awake I devised an excuse to tell my parents. I told them Candice and I went down to the lake, which is about an hour’s walk from our house. By the time we realized what time it was, we were already late. I said I walked her home first since it was so late, then came home. I guess they bought it, because they did not punish me. I was afraid they would ground me and I would not be able to go see Candice today. 

Byron and Scott caught up with me as I was on my way to my girlfriend’s house. Byron told Scott what happened, but Scott did not believe him. Even when I confirmed the story was the truth, Scott thought we were trying to scare him from trying to burn down “the house” himself. When he mentioned that, we both begged him not to try. I told him in detail the horror of listening to Matt scream as he burned without dying. Scott still did not believe us until he saw Candice. 

She still wore the same look of intense terror as she did last night. I doubt she got any sleep at all. I am surprised any of us did. When Scott saw that look of absolute fear on Candice’s face, he realized we were not messing with him. We did experience the hellish scene as we described. 

“We have to do something,” Scott insisted. 

“What?” Byron asked. 

We could not tell people about the fire, there was no damage to the house or the lawn. Matt was gone and there was no one who was going to believe us when we told them the house sucked him in along with the fire. All we would accomplish with that was implicating ourselves over Matt’s disappearance, which was going to become public very soon. 

The only real option we had was to make a vow to one another to never speak to anyone about what we witnessed last night. The truth sounded too insane to be believed. If we ever told anyone about what happened, they would think we had something to do with Matt’s disappearance. We tried to stop him, but instead we watched helplessly as he set himself on fire. We listened in horror to his agonized screams, but only I was close enough to hear the sizzling of his flesh as he cried out for help we could not provide. 

Candice was having the hardest time coping with the ungodly situation. She experienced it once when the man in the attic put that vision in her head, then she had to experience it again in reality. Watching Matt burning, crying for help, and then seeing him absorb into the house was more than she could take. That made me wonder if the man was in my head the same way the first time I saw him. 

Did we make things worse for Candice because we interrupted whatever it was he was doing to her, what he probably already did to the rest of us? 

I became dizzy as waves of guilt washed over me. I could see Candice was beyond distraught, and the idea this might be my fault almost made me sick to my stomach. I tried my very best to do whatever I could to console her, but the stress and horror of everything was becoming too much for her to bear. 

I did not want to leave her alone, but eventually we had to part ways for the night. If I missed curfew again, my parents would certainly ground me for at least a few days, and those were a few days I did not want to leave Candice alone. The rest of us walked her to her house before we went on our separate ways. All three of us were concerned about Candice, as she was in such a fragile emotional state. The only thing we could do is hope she was able to get a good night sleep before we met back up with her in the morning. 

I awoke the next day to the sound of my parents knocking on my door. They said Matthew had not come home for several days, and they wanted to know if I knew where he was. I used my sleepiness to help mask the lie when I told them I have not seen him for at least a week. They knew Matt and I did not hang out together anymore, so this was easy enough for them to believe. 

Regardless, they told me to get up and get dressed so I could help look for him. I knew there was no point in trying to find him. I knew exactly where he was, but no one would ever accept that as the truth. I quickly got dressed, grabbed a few cold toaster pastries and left in hopes of meeting up with my friends. Scott and Byron did not live very far off the cross street, but I passed them and made my way straight to Candice’s house. 

Her parents already joined the search for Matt leaving Candice at home alone. She did not look like she got much sleep at all last night. I told her to come with me to Byron’s house. The massive lawn contained several venerable trees and a wide variety of shrubbery.  

That was a place that always seemed to relax her, so I hoped she might be able to get some rest there. Several hammocks hung between wooden posts next to the gazebo which was surrounded by beautiful and fragrant flowers. I thought she might be able to take a nap at least if I was there by her side to protect her. 

Scott joined us as we approached Byron’s house, and Byron was coming out of his house as we turned onto his block. I managed to get Byron to the side for a moment and explained to him my thoughts on trying to let Candice get some rest, and I was glad to find he agreed. It was not difficult for him to see how exhausted she was, so he and Scott went to join the pointless search for Matt. I took Candice to his back lawn of thick green grass, sculpted shrubs and beautiful blossoms. 

Once I finally managed to get her to lay in one of the hammocks, I laid on the ground beside her. I talked about the beautiful green trees. I talked about the cool morning breeze and the sweet smell of flowers in the air. I tried to talk about everything soothing I could think of. Clearly it worked because within half an hour Candice was sound asleep. At this point I sat up and leaned against one of the large wooden posts holding the hammock to keep watch over my girlfriend as she rested. 

The search for Matthew continued for a week before authorities finally called him a runaway and ended the massive manhunt. Keeping our dark secret was taking its toll on Candice, so when the search finally ended, it was something of a relief to her. She remained withdrawn and deeply depressed, and I did not know what I could possibly do to make her feel better. I took her to relaxing places like the creek, the forest, or somewhere near beautiful flowers. This helped her some, but the memory of what happened was becoming too much for her. 

We only had slightly more than a week before the summer of my thirteenth year was at an end. Candice enjoyed school, so I hoped that would help to elevate her mood. Perhaps being back in class and having something else to occupy her mind would help her forget about the gruesome scene of Matt’s fiery death. Having homework to do would give her something to keep her mind off of the horrible thing we saw. 

It was the Friday before school resumed, and I was having difficulty getting to sleep. My mind raced with so many thoughts, I could not relax enough to get any rest. I decided to get up and just take a walk around the block to try to clear my head. With school about to start again, we would be around a lot of the people we did not see during the summer. I was absolutely certain there would be talk of Matthew’s disappearance, something I had not considered prior to this, and that was going to be hard for all of us. For Candice, it might be too much. 

As I rounded the first corner, I saw a figure in the darkness walking directly toward “the house.” From this distance at night I could not make out who this person was, but I knew approaching “the house” was a terrible and possibly deadly idea. I increased my pace, but the figure was approaching the old structure too quickly. I started jogging, and when I got a look at the figure under the street light, I began to run as fast as I possibly could. 

Now standing directly on the sidewalk in front of “the house” in her white nightgown, I knew without question it was Candice. What she would be doing out here this time of night, I could not begin to fathom. In an absolute panic, I began to shout her name. I called over and over, but she did not react. She stood there motionless with her back turned toward me and her arms held out in front of her. 

When I reached the middle of the street, I could see blood dripping from her elbows onto the ground. Finally reacting to my calls, Candice turned around to face me. In her limp hand she held her father’s straight razor. Blood flowed from diagonal gashes across her wrists. In a state of shock, I froze in place as I watched the blood running down her arms. When I did start to move, she shook her head. 

“There’s nothing we can do,” she said. “The house wants us all.” 

With that final warning she turned and began to run. Candice was only about twenty feet into the lawn when she began to sink as if she were in quicksand. I ran to her as fast as possible, but she was sinking too fast. By the time I reached her the only thing remaining above ground was her left arm. Locking my hand around hers, I pulled with all my might, but she continued to sink. I held on until the ground finally prevented my hand from moving any further. 

She was gone. Candice was gone. I sat there on my knees crying. I knew she was having a hard time coping with what happened, but I never thought she would do something like this. I did everything I could imagine to help her deal with Matt’s gruesome death, but I did not do enough. It was my fault. I should have seen this coming. I should have been there to protect her. Candice slashed her wrists because I did not get to her quick enough when I should have been with her. 

Why did “the house” not take me too? Why did it drag her into the lawn but leave me kneeling here, helpless to do anything to help her? 

My grief and horror turned to a blind rage. Rising back to my feet, I picked up one of the rocks bordering some of the shrubs in the lawn and marched straight up to the nearest window. I waited until I was only a few feet away and thew the stone with all my might. To my shock and horror, the rock passed through the window and curtain as if neither were there. Turning to look behind me, I saw the stone sitting in its original resting place as if I never touched it. I pounded on the glass with my fists, but it was like I was striking the stone siding. There was no loud banging from the glass. All I could hear was a solid thud every time I struck the window. 

Why did it take Matthew and Candice, but “the house” would not take me? I was trying to get into the house, so why was it keeping me out? 

I sat there at this point with my back against “the house” thinking of the look on Candice’s face before she turned to run. She looked completely defeated. I thought I was helping her, but I did not do enough. Suddenly it came to me. I knew why the house took Matt and Candice but was not taking me. 

Getting back up to my feet I walked over to the sidewalk and picked up the strait razor Candice dropped from her limp hand. Holding the blade firmly in my hand, I walked over to the door Matthew stared into several summers ago. I put one hand on the door knob and with my other hand I swept the razor from one side of my neck to the other. 

The knob melted in my hand and became a fluid darkness. The ebony substance flowed up my arm and drew me into “the house.” “The house” took them and not me because they were dying. Whatever struck the building all those years back did not fall from the sky, if fell through from another dimension. It had form but it was nothingness. It had sentience but no consciousness until it found form with the house and learned self-awareness from the original residents. 

Only people between life and death, people in a place of nothingness can become one with “the house.” No one who entered the dwelling ever truly died, but instead merged with the thing that made the building its body. It used us for our senses. It used us to sustain its own other worldly existence as it was stranded here in a foreign universe. 

Trapped in a void of time immemorial, I never again saw the girl for whom I took my own life. Although we were trapped inside the same house with God knows how many others, we each resided in oblivion. I existed to me, but to no one else. Candice existed to herself, but not to me. I thought I could save her, I thought I could help her through this traumatic time, but now we were both trapped forever in this timeless, spaceless limbo. 

“The house” could not learn on its own. It was not able to gain knowledge except for what it assimilated from those who entered its form. In order to continue to develop, continue to evolve, “the house” lured people to a fate such as mine so it could incorporate their thoughts and memories into its own. To do that, it selected its victims and lured them in using the man in the attic. 

Copyright 2023 ©

End of the Road

Word Count: 7,100

Nobody believes me. I know everyone thinks I am crazy, but if they saw the things I saw, they would be as terrified of the world as I was. People walked around every day in blissful ignorance, unaware of the evil ceaselessly surrounding them. The townsfolk called me agoraphobic, but it was not the open space that caused my crippling trepidation. I was afraid of what inhabited that space. Demons of darkness walked freely among the people and took joy as they caused pain and misery to everyone they could. 

Most of the world called the misfortunes that happened to them “bad luck.” There was no such thing as luck. Every time someone tripped and fell, every time someone shut their hand in a car door, every time a human was involved in some sort of accident, it was caused by the direct actions of these entities only I could see. Why I could see them and no one else could was something I never discovered. Being ignorant of the horrid, heinous entities all around them, other people looked at my ability as a mental illness. I looked at it as a curse. 

It was sometime when I was a little girl that I began to see these things, these sinister beings roaming the earth. It seemed like so long ago since I last saw what it looked like outside. I had not traveled past the boundaries of my own home in more than ten years. There was too much outside waiting to do horrible things to me, and I could not go out there to willingly expose myself to them. 

Before sequestering myself inside I learned the otherworldly entities stayed away from quartz. When my second sight first began, I discovered I could see the vibrations emanating from certain crystals and precious stones. It did not take me long before I noticed the ebony monstrosities avoiding this one specific mineral. I thought perhaps, in high enough concentrations, the vibrations from these transparent stones caused the dark creatures pain. 

I could not say for certain why they avoided the clear crystal, but I took full advantage of the knowledge. There were quartz crystals in every single corner of my house. I even had them in the corners inside the closets, cabinets and pantry. Stones occupied the corners of every window and the top of the blinds obscuring them. 

The local shopping market delivered my groceries to me every Tuesday and sometimes on Saturday. The owner’s son usually made the deliveries. He was a very nice caring young man who would spend an hour or so talking with me when he came by. I did not care for the owner bringing me my things because he always dropped off my delivery and abruptly departed. Sometimes I felt like he believed he would catch “crazy” from me if he stayed around me for too long. 

Both the grocer and his son knew I hated opening the door. When they arrived and knocked, they allowed me time after unlocking it to get safely away from the opening to the outside world before they entered. I was always afraid that, without the door being closed, one of those malicious interlopers might break the boundaries of the quartz to reach in and get me. There was no way I was going to allow an opportunity for that to happen, and even if they could not get me, I could still see the ghastly nightmares lingering right outside. 

The only other time I ever had visitors was when I needed to call on a repairman for something. On very rare occasions I got a visit from my doctor, but besides that the rest of the time I spent in my house alone. I inherited the large, seven-bedroom home from my grandmother when she passed, along with a substantial sum of money. Those beings of darkness that wander the streets would have surely killed me by now if it were not for what my grandmother left me. 

My house was the second largest house in our lightly populated and widely scattered town. I lived at the end of a long road a little more than a thirty-minute drive through the forest from town. Although there were many houses on this road, no one who lived here ever paid me a visit. They all thought I was insane, and I guess this made them afraid of me. I was the one person they should not be afraid of, but that was fine. More people coming to my house would mean the door would have to be opened more often, and I already wished I never had to open it at all. 

I found many things to occupy my time. I loved knitting, even if I did not have anyone to knit for. All the bedrooms and the four bathrooms in my home were decorated with blankets, doilies and other colorful displays. Reading occupied a lot of my time. I only read books. Magazines, newspapers and anything else with current news caused me too much anxiety. I stuck with the romance and western novels. Science fiction, fantasy and mystery novels I avoided because all they ever did was intensify my apprehension and fear. 

Every so often the grocer’s son would take a list of books I wanted him to purchase for me to the bookstore. He sometimes performed other tasks for me besides bringing my groceries. I always compensated him very well for his time, fuel and gave him money for the books. He was a good kid. If he thought I was paying him too much for the task, he would only accept what he thought he deserved. He was the only person in this world I would turn my back to without fear. 

The young man started delivering my groceries to me when he was sixteen years old, but now he was a high school graduate. He was taking a year off before going to college to save up some money, so in a little over a year I would not have him around anymore. Panic overwhelmed me at the thought of being all alone again. I felt like my world was crashing down at the idea of him not being here. My hands began to tremble, and a few tears ran down my cheek as I tried to calm myself down. 

Even if the grocer did send someone else to deliver to me, would he go to the bookstore or run other errands for me? Would he ever take the time to talk with me? 

I tried not to think about that. It was time for me to eat dinner, so I headed down from the second floor and made my way to the kitchen. The kitchen was originally designed to be used for a large family, but now I was the only one left. I probably did not use ninety percent of the equipment and could not say with any certainty if any of it still functioned. 

A sudden and hard knock on my door startled me so bad I fell to the floor. I was not expecting anyone to come to my house again until next week. My stomach turned and my focus narrowed into a tight tunnel vision as fear gripped me. It felt like electricity was coursing through my body as I tried to pull myself to my feet. Once I was again standing, I reached out and grabbed a small cluster of quartz crystals and hugged it tightly. 

Four more raps at the door came, and I fled to the nearest hiding spot I could. Running into the pantry, I carefully shut the door behind me. Moving as far from the door as I could, I kept my protective crystal bound tightly in my arms. I cowered away for at least thirty minutes after that second knock before I finally mustered enough courage to exit the walk-in pantry. Peeking around the corner of the kitchen, I took a good look at the door. It was still closed, the chains were latched, and the wooden plank was still barricading it, but I could not tell if the deadbolts and the knob were locked from there. 

I hid behind the wall for another ten minutes then cautiously crept forward toward the solid oak door. Once I could see the latches were all turned to the locked position and the chains were all in place, I forgot about cooking dinner and ran upstairs to my bedroom. I locked the door and quickly climbed into my bed. Still shaking from the fright, I balled up against the headboard with my knees pulled up to my chest. Tugging my comforter over me, I covered everything but the top of my head so that I could still see the door. 

After some time, the adrenalin from the fright of hearing that unexpected knock at the door wore off, and I drifted off to sleep. I slept until my alarm clock went off the next morning. After going through my wardrobe looking for something to wear, I headed to the ground floor to prepare myself something for breakfast. I never ate dinner last night, so I was very hungry. Before proceeding into the kitchen though, I had to go into the hall to make sure the door was still locked and barred. Satisfied the portal was well secured, I ate a bowl of cereal as I cooked myself some eggs and toasted some bread. 

Still feeling uneasy about the unexpected knock at the door yesterday, I decided after breakfast to check the windows around the doorway. Every window had glass containing chicken wire, iron bars on the inside and outside, blinds, curtains and finally a wooden stand holding a quartz crystal formation. 

I was extremely diligent not to look past the blinds. The thought of seeing what was lurking right outside, waiting to take revenge on me for avoiding them all these years terrified me to my core. As long as I stayed inside and kept quartz crystals everywhere, they could not get me. I knew they hated me for that. They wanted to pay me back for all the years I stayed out of their reach. 

I felt the bars to make sure they were still firm and intact. After checking the bolts in the wall holding the bars in place, I gave them a strong tug to make sure they were not loose. I could feel the glass through the curtain, but I could not check the bars outside. That was usually one of those kinds of things the grocer’s son did for me. 

The whole ordeal made me very uneasy. My hands were trembling again from anxiety, and I was feeling a bit faint. I poured myself a glass of water, got something to snack on and retired to the library. The library contained more books than would fit on the shelves, and I read every single one of them. Reading was the one thing that truly helped take my mind off of the horrors outside. I could get wrapped up in the fantasy of a romance novel and temporarily forget about all my troubles. 

It was nice to imagine a beautiful open prairie filled with tall waving grass and wildflowers, the sun shining brightly overhead. I would love to sit under a tall shade tree while enjoying a cool breeze. I wished places like that existed in real life, but I knew the truth. There was evil walking around everywhere, and for whatever reason no one else could see it. 

The one place I felt safest was in the library. It was in the center of the house, so I was as far away from any exterior door or window as I could be. I was the most surrounded by quartz crystals in here than anywhere except my bedroom right upstairs. In my library I could fully relax and for a short time forget about all those things that furiously wanted to get inside my house. 

Tuesday arrived, and I was looking forward to seeing the young man who delivered my groceries. He normally came between two and three in the afternoon, but by the time three o’clock came, he still had not arrived. I wondered what could be taking him so long; it was not like him to be late. 

Finally, a few minutes before four, there were three hard knocks at the door. Instantly, I knew something was not right. That nice young man who delivered to me always knocked four times. I stopped my advance toward the door, stepped over to the kitchen, and grabbed a blade from the knife block on the island counter. Picking up the nearest piece of quartz, I started backing my way into the library. 

There were three more solid raps at the door. Nearly jumping out of my skin, I dropped the stone onto the floor. I managed to maintain a firm grip on the knife though. The stone was going to have to stay there because I was not going to throw myself off guard by bending over to pick it up. 

Suddenly I heard someone call out my name. I recognized the voice to be that of the grocer. Once again I heard a knock, and again the grocer called out my name. 

Eventually I answered him and asked him what he wanted. He told me he was here to deliver my groceries. I wondered if this was really who it sounded like, or if something was trying to trick me into letting it in. The grocer should not be delivering my things. He had not delivered my things to me for a long time. His son was always the one who drove my groceries out to me. 

“Do you want your things or not?” he asked in an obviously agitated tone. 

I eventually made my way to the door, removed the wooden bar, unlocked the handle and deadbolts, unlatched the chains and hastily ran over to the staircase. Once I was far away from the door and ready to run up the stairs if need be, I hid the knife I was still holding behind my back and told the gentleman to come in. 

Sure enough, it was the owner of the local grocery market. I cringed as I saw the dark entities crowding around him right outside the doorway. The grocer walked past them completely ignorant of their presence. As he was bringing in the brown paper bags, I asked him if his son was sick today. 

“No,” he replied. “He was approved for a scholarship at the last minute, so he’s going to be heading off to college in a few weeks. He came by the other day to tell you the good news but said you didn’t answer the door. He assumed you were asleep.” 

My head started to spin when he gave me the awful news. The grocer continued talking for a bit, but all I heard was a hollow ringing in my ears. I became dizzy, almost losing my balance. I threw my hands out to grab onto the railing, and in doing so I tossed the knife in my hand to the floor. 

The grocer was visibly disturbed when the ten-inch chef knife fell from my hands, bounced down the steps to the hardwood floor and slid clearly into his view. I did not know what I should do. If I went after the knife to pick it up, he would probably think I was going to try to stab him. 

Should I try to explain to him what I was doing with that long blade in my hands? 

I never got the chance. I was so befuddled; I could not get a sentence out before he quickly told me to have a nice day and excused himself from my presence. He did not even pick up the money I had waiting for him on a table where I always put it for a delivery. Before I went back to lock and bar the door, I waited for a few minutes right where I was to make sure he was not going to come back in. Once I heard his car pulling out of my loose gravel driveway, I ran over to the door and put the wooden bar in position. After that, I secured the other various locking mechanisms. 

I wondered what the grocer was going to do. He was clearly bothered by the sight of the knife falling from my hand. Since he did not take the money for the delivery when he left, it was clear the man only had one thought on his mind. He wanted to get out of my house as quickly as he politely could. 

My entire body began to tremble as I descended into an outright panic. I desperately did not want other people to come to my house, people I did not know. I was shaking so bad I almost collapsed to my knees, but I managed to support myself temporarily utilizing the coat rack adjacent to the door. As soon as I was steady enough, I ran to the library and locked the door behind me. Feeling that was not enough, I braced the knob with a chair and put a chunk of quartz on the seat. 

Climbing into my favorite reading chair, I pulled my knees up to my chest and cried. As I pondered what was going to happen, I began downright sobbing at the prospect of strangers showing up to my home. I got so scared when the grocer knocked at the door, I did not even think to put that knife away before first letting him in. He delivered my things to me for years, so I hoped to everything that was holy he would respect my privacy and leave me alone. 

Reaching over to the table next to me, I removed a bottle of sedatives from the small drawer. Picking up a glass of water I had in here from earlier, I quickly swallowed the small pill and waited for it to take effect. I was seriously considering taking another one, but the pill started to help me calm down half an hour after I took it. 

The minutes passed by agonizingly slow. The soft ticking of the intricately designed wooden clock on the wall behind me sounded as if it were only ticking a few times each minute. I stayed huddled in my chair for hours, but I never heard anyone else at the door. Normally, I could still hear when someone knocked, even locked up in the library. 

When I finally did get up, I found I was rather groggy and a bit off balance. Making my way over to the door on the west wall of the library, I listened with my ear against the door for a few moments before unlocking it. Exiting my reading room into the hall, I rounded the corner and began to make my way up the stairs. Between the sedative and the scare, I did not think to pick the knife up off the mahogany hardwood floor. Instead, I made my way to the second floor and headed straight for my bedroom, which was located directly above the library. 

I turned out the lights, leaving only one dim lamp on. If I did not leave some kind of light on, my room became pitch black. Without any windows in this room, no light made it in from the inside. Once I removed my clothes and got into a nightgown, I climbed into bed and drifted off to sleep. 

The next morning, when I was bringing my breakfast dishes back to the kitchen, a knock at the door startled me, making me scream and drop the dishes in my hands. Broken fragments of ceramic lay scattered about the floor as I realized I recognized the knock. It was the nice young man who helped me so much over the last few years. 

What would he be doing here now? 

Perhaps he was coming back to tell me himself that he was going to be headed off to college. I picked up the larger plate fragments and dumped them in the trashcan. There was another knock at the door, and then the grocer’s son called out my name. 

I did not want any visitors, but I was happy to see him. He was such a good young man. I went to the door to remove the bar and open the locks when I heard another vehicle pull into my driveway. Something was definitely amiss, and I immediately backed away from the door. He knocked several more times, but I did not answer him. 

I slowly and quietly backed my way to the staircase, beyond which was the west door of the library. The grocer’s son quit knocking, and only a few moments later someone much more heavily fisted began pounding on the door. It was the sheriff. He was asking me to let him come in to talk to me, but I did not answer him either. Instead, I went into the library, locked the doors, barricaded them with furniture, and climbed into my reading chair. 

I hummed a few tunes to myself as I picked up the novel I was in the process of reading. I continued to hum to help drown out the sounds of the people banging at my heavy wooden door. Twenty minutes elapsed before I finally heard the wonderful sound of silence. I did not think they were ever going to leave me alone. 

All my hope for humanity died when that young man tried to deceive me into opening my door. He was so good and kind to me over the last few years; I could not believe he would try something so sinister. That young man was fully aware of how leery I was of strangers, and he worked as their pawn to help the so-called authorities get into my home, my sanctuary. It turned out he was not the good kid I thought he was. 

Several days passed and no one returned to my house. I did not know if the grocer was going to deliver to me any more after the knife incident or not. I was sure he was in on the deceit his son and the sheriff tried to perpetrate. He was probably outside with the rest of them as they tried to trick me out of my home. 

If he stopped bringing my groceries and other items, I was eventually going to run out of food along with a lot of other things. I was so confused, and I felt another panic attack coming on. I took a sedative from the table next to my reading chair and walked upstairs. I walked all the way to the third floor to my childhood bedroom and sat amongst my old toys. They brought me a small measure of comfort, but that was all. The porcelain dolls and stuffed animals did not reassure me like they usually did. 

Four days passed, and no one returned to my house. My grocery delivery was supposed to be tomorrow, but I was completely oblivious as to what I should expect. I did not know if the grocer would come, or if he did would he come alone. His son was going off to college in a few days, and I imagined I would probably never see him again. 

If the sheriff came out with the grocery delivery, what was I supposed to do? 

I could not let them in my house, but I could not go forever on the vegetables I canned during the late spring and early summer. I had meats of various sorts in the freezer, but by my best guess that food would feed me until the end of the year when it was cold and snowy. 

It was about an hour before nightfall when I heard a vehicle pulling into my driveway. I recognized the sputtering engine of the truck belonging to the young man involved in the subterfuge to fool me into letting strangers into my home, my sanctuary. A few moments passed then I heard a light knock on the door. Immediately after that he called out my name. 

“I’m so sorry ma’am. I didn’t want to do it, but they made me,” he said through the solid wooden portal. “If you will let me in, I brought you some groceries, some books and a few other things. 

When I did not respond, he said, “I’m alone. I promise.” 

Something in his voice led me to believe he was telling the truth. Making my way over to the door, I removed the wooden bar and undid the other locks. I went over to the stairs where I normally went when letting someone in then called out for him to come in. 

When the door swung open, I could see him carrying a brown paper bag. Another rested on the ground. Picking that one up as well, the young man carried the bags to the island counter in my oversized kitchen. Excusing himself, he went back outside to grab some more. In total he carried ten paper bags into my house. Normally my deliveries were only five, six bags at most. 

The young man apologized repeatedly for his deceit a few days past. He told me the reason and it filled me with unequivocal trepidation. The grocer told the sheriff about the knife, and said he was worried I was going to hurt his son. They wanted to make me attend a competency hearing to determine if I was a threat to myself or others. 

No one else understood me like this young man did. Everyone else thought I was crazy, but he knew that was not the case. Whenever we talked, he did his best to understand me and why I am the way I am. Even after I told him about the shadow creatures that roam the world, causing misfortune to people, he did not treat me any different than before. I did not know if he was playing along with me or if he really believed me. Regardless, he treated me just like anyone else. 

He could not stay long. No one knew he was here, and he wanted to go before anyone realized where he was. The fine young man took the payment for my things, said a long goodbye and closed the door behind him. I ran up behind him and put the wooden bar back across the door and secured all the various locks. 

What was I going to do? 

I could not stay inside my home if I did not have anyone else bringing groceries out to me. It might be possible for me to convert the sunroom into an arboretum so I could grow my own vegetables inside, but that would mean opening my door to contractors and their crews. I never realized how dependent I became on the grocer and his son in order to survive. 

I had not been outside in over a decade, and I was not about to go outside now. I ran the situation over and over in my head as I put away the groceries. One of the bags, instead of containing food, was filled two-thirds full with books. Most of them were clearly used books, but I did not care. Several were books I already owned, and a couple of them were outside my preferred genres. It almost looked like the young man quietly took up a collection for me from some of the other townsfolk, perhaps from some of his friends. 

I greatly appreciated the efforts of the grocer’s son, but I did not know how much good it was going to do me. He brought me enough groceries to last three additional weeks, perhaps more if I rationed my meals carefully. There was still going to come a point when I would need more groceries and other supplies, and I did not know how I was going to do that without allowing in people I did not want inside my house. 

Maybe it would all blow over. If the grocer was worried about his son, he was leaving in a matter of days. I never made any threats to anyone, and I certainly did not pull a knife on the man as he delivered my things. I merely dropped the knife I was already holding when he came into my house. 

The anticipation was crippling as I waited for the normal day of my grocery deliveries. I did not need groceries at the time, but that was information I was not going to tell anyone. If they knew I did not need anything, they may put two and two together and figure out the grocer’s son was here. 

Tuesday arrived, and I was on pins and needles all day. I tried to go about my usual routine, but I could not get my mind off what might happen. I did not know if the grocer would even come, and if he did, I did not know if he would bring anyone with him. When the day was approaching late afternoon, I sat on the large staircase and waited to see if anyone was going to knock on the door. I remained seated on the steps for an hour and a half before I finally heard a knock at the door. 

Even though I was expecting this visit, it still brought sparks to my eyes and made my skin crawl to hear him pounding on the door. My stomach wrenched as I moved close enough for him to hear me. I called out loudly and asked who it was, even though I knew it was the grocer. He answered back and confirmed his identity. Next, I asked who else was with him, but he assured me he was alone. 

I was filled with intense consternation at the thought of letting the man in my house. I did not think I could trust him like I could his son. I would not be surprised if he had the sheriff with him, and I could not look out the window to confirm he was alone. I knew he would not wait forever though, so I had to make a decision fast. 

Suddenly a thought occurred to me. I asked him if he could take them into the garage and leave them there. That way he would still be bringing the groceries into my house, but I was not giving him access to the interior of my home. I did not like going in the garage, but I would rather do that than step outside to get my groceries. 

To my surprise and relief, he said he would be happy to oblige. I told him I had the payment for the delivery last week and for this one, and I was going to place it outside the door that led from the house to the garage. He seemed fine with this, so I was inclined to believe him when he said he was alone. It looked like this was all going to blow over after all. 

I felt so relieved after today’s delivery. I was sure they were going to try to trick me into letting the sheriff into my house, but they did not even attempt to get in. Maybe the grocer realized I was not trying to hurt anyone and had the sheriff back off. 

I slept easy for the next few nights. With the sheriff and the competency hearing off my mind, I was once again able to relax inside my own home. By the time the weekend was over, I read three of the books the young man brought me. The books he gave me outside my genre I added to a box of similar books upstairs. 

Monday came, and I was feeling much better than in the previous weeks. I woke up that morning refreshed, hungry and full of energy. After getting dressed, I headed downstairs to the kitchen to fix myself something for breakfast. I decided since I was feeling so well this morning, I would cook myself something special. Eggs benedict were my favorite, so I decided to dirty up a few pots and make some. That was something I had not cooked in quite some time. It was a delicious breakfast and a great way to get the day started.  

I only finished cleaning the kitchen a few minutes before I heard a vehicle pulling into my driveway. I anxiously held my breath until there was a loud knock at the door. 

“Ma’am, it’s the Sheriff,” a voice called through the door. “I have a warrant to take you to the courthouse ma’am.” 

A few seconds passed and the sheriff said, “Ma’am, I know you are in there. I have a warrant to take you to see a judge for a competency hearing. I got the warrant a couple of weeks ago, but I waited to serve it on you today, so I did not have to keep you away from your home any longer than necessary.” 

What the grocer’s son told me was true. I had to go in front of a judge and prove I was not crazy. I was not crazy; the problem was the vast majority of people were too limited in their perception to see what was right in front of them. As I stood frozen, trying to think of what I should do, there was another knock at the door. 

“Ma’am, please,” the sheriff said. “If you won’t come out, I am going to have to force my way in. I know that won’t be easy and quite frankly I have no desire to damage your lovely home.” 

Oh, how I so desperately hoped this was all going to blow over, but it looked like I was going to have to leave my home one way or another. If I did not go willingly, they would eventually extract me forcefully, and that would probably cause me to lose the hearing without a doubt. Finally, I answered the sheriff and asked him how long we were going to have to stay gone. 

“The hearing is in three hours, so we don’t have to leave right now. We can wait another hour if you want. I don’t know how long your hearing will take, but the courthouse closes at five o’clock. It won’t be any later than that.” 

I asked him if I had to open the door and let him in right now. He told me no, not if I did not want to. The sheriff said he did not mind waiting outside, but in an hour I was going to have to open the door. I agreed to his terms and told him I would unlock the door in one hour. 

Pacing back and forth in the hallway, I began to weep. Salty tears ran down my cheeks as I thought about what was outside waiting for me. I was not sure if I could actually go through with this. He was not just asking me to leave my house, he was going to take me into town. Butterflies churned in my stomach and my head felt as if it would float away. Although it only seemed like I paced around for a few minutes, the sheriff knocked on the door and told me the hour was up. 

I said I would be there in a moment, while I stood as if my feet were glued in place. Shifting my feet one inch at a time, I slowly crept my way to the door. The thought of what was waiting for me out there scared me more than anything else in this world. If I did not go, they would force me out and probably hold me at the hospital or something until I had the opportunity to see a judge. 

Who knows how long I would be separated from my sanctuary then? 

I picked up and put a few pieces of quartz in my pockets, and I always wore a necklace and bracelet made of the crystal. I prayed these trinkets would be enough to hold those entities of darkness at bay. I knew they resented me for discovering how to hold them back, and I had very little doubt they wanted to get back at me for it. 

My hands trembled violently as I removed the heavy wooden bar from the door. Clumsily I dropped the wooden plank to the floor causing enough noise for the sheriff to hear it. Before I could try to begin unfastening the other locks, he asked me if everything was alright. I told him I was okay, that I was only trying to get the door unlocked. I unlatched the chains, but I could not bring myself to release the deadbolts still holding the door secured to the wall. 

I began crying over the thought of what awaited me just outside the door. I know the sheriff thought he could keep me safe, but he was blissfully unaware of the evil beings all around him. Feeling my legs growing weak, I turned and leaned against the door I was too terrified to open. A few minutes passed, and the man outside called for me again. 

“Ma’am, are you coming out?” he inquired. 

I told him I could not do it. He assured me he would be with me the entire time, and I had nothing to worry about. Fighting through my tears and quivering lips, I told him there was no possible way he could give me such a guarantee. 

“Please, just come out,” he said. “I promise I will do everything in my ability to keep you safe, but you have to come out.” 

Reaching up and grabbing the doorknob tightly, I used it to help me get back to my feet. Struggling to get past my crippling fear, I unlocked the deadbolts one at a time. All that was left was to unlock the doorknob and expose myself to the evil outside. 

Why could they not leave me alone? 

They did not know about the things outside waiting to make me suffer for holding them at bay for more than a decade, but I did. Finally, I turned the lock on the doorknob and gripped the knob so hard my knuckles turned white. I begged the Sheriff one last time not to make me leave my house, but he continued to insist. 

Turning the knob I held firmly in my hands, I slowly pulled the door open. There stood the Sheriff in his uniform surrounded by at least a dozen of the wretched demons. Their black shapeless forms defied the light. Their bodies did not reflect the light but instead absorbed it, so they appeared as nothingness. 

Seeing the shapes surrounding the man, I began to scream and fell back into my house with my eyes closed tightly. He was quick to react and was on the floor holding me almost immediately. I know the Sheriff was a good man, and he had no desire to hurt me. I wished others could see these beings of the netherworld, but if they did the world would probably cease to function. 

Helping me to my feet, the lawman told me I did not have to look. He gently put one arm around my shoulders and held my hand with the other. One small step at a time, he led me out the front walkway over to his vehicle. The things could not touch me because I was protected by my crystals, but I also knew without looking they were trying to figure out how to get me. 

It felt like hours before we finally reached the sheriff’s large pickup truck. He was very kind and patient with me, which is a courtesy I did not think I would receive if I made them force me out of my home. After helping me into his vehicle and buckling my seatbelt, he closed the door and quickly ran around to the other side. 

I was very familiar with the sound of a vehicle driving on my loose stone driveway, so when we hit the paved road, I knew where we were without looking. I knew where we were, but I looked up anyway. I was used to hiding from the world, not shutting my eyes to it. When I glanced up, I saw one of those things standing in the road. It was reaching up with, for lack of a better word, its hands, and it was in line with the sheriff. 

They could not harm me directly, so they were going to hurt me by killing the man driving the truck. I could not let that happen. Not thinking about myself for once in my life, I unbuckled my seatbelt and grabbed the steering wheel. The sheriff did not have time to react before I took hold of the steering wheel and pulled hard in my direction. 

The creature came only inches away from hurting the man who was only doing his job, but thanks to me opening my eyes in time he was still alive. Unfortunately, the same could not be said about me. I swerved the vehicle away from that horror and kept it from getting the sheriff, but when I pulled the vehicle to the right, I drove us straight into a tree. 

The truck stopped at the tree, but I continued forward at our driving pace. Without my seatbelt to hold me in place, I crashed through the windshield and rolled down the hood. Striking my head and upper torso against the tree with incredible force, I shattered my skull and ribcage before the inertia sent me spinning to the ground. Those things gathered around my mangled, lifeless body sharing a sense of glee at my demise. They reveled in the knowledge they finally caused the death of someone who kept them away for so long. 

I was pronounced dead on the scene. Because of my actions a man was still alive, but no one would ever remember it that way. There was no way anyone could know what really happened. In this little town spread throughout the forest, everyone would forever speak of me as that crazy lady at the end of the road.

Copyright 2023 ©

Beautiful Island Cove

Word Count: 6,007

The salty aroma of the briny water filled the warm air of the small coastal city. The white granite stone buildings hanging on the face of a steep slope formed a crescent wrapping around the sandy beach of the island cove. Fishing boats were returning to the port later than they did for many generations as the catches seemed to be growing thin. The hope was casting their nets further out would allow the fish population closer to the island to recover. The city’s dense populous was very dependent of fish and kelp as staple foods. 

Tenements built along the hillside allowed very little room for any form of lawn or garden, and the steep slope would make tending to them a difficult task indeed. The narrow rectangular homes were one to three levels in height, built with adjoining walls, and most of the shorter homes had more houses constructed on top them to maximize the usable living space. There was no flat land, apart from the beach, within miles of the sandy, rock-walled cove. Riding animals up and down the steep and sometimes slick cobblestone streets could be perilous. The safest and most efficient way to get around town was on foot. 

Trails led from the top of the hillside all the way down to the wharf, winding through large breaks between the homes left to allow for such paths to exist. Most of the walkways consisted of stairs either artistically etched directly into the bedrock or constructed from the granite stone that made up much of the island. Granite worked well as the grainy surface helped grip the leather soles of shoes and provide traction, but after centuries of use, the stones wore smooth in places. Certain sections could be outright dangerous on rainy days, especially if someone did not know where the slickest spots were. 

Although not part of the original design, wooden handrails were added to some of the more dangerous sections after several fatal falls happened two winters in a row. In the heavy rains of the cooler months, the trails could become difficult to navigate. Virtually everyone in the city was either a carpenter, mason, fisherman or metal worker, so constructing the handrails only took one summer. The process of grooving the stones so they once again provided strong traction took much, much longer as there simply were not enough people to spare for such a daunting task. 

For all the time I was alive, I can remember them working on the surface of the ancient stairways. The first time I obtained monetary employment was only a month before my eleventh birthday, and that was working carefully on the stone steps with a small hammer and chisel. Many my age did this kind of work, which taught us the value of determination and the satisfaction of seeing our work completed. By most children’s thirteenth birthday, they no longer worked in the community but instead obtained an apprenticeship with one of the city’s many artisans. 

My skills with the chisel and hammer showed great promise, and I was offered an invitation into the stone mason’s guild. For the first six months, I worked with a small crew replacing some of the old stairs that were too far gone to be repaired. I wanted to build dwellings and carve artwork from stone, but I guess I had to work my way up first. By the time we finished the new section of stairs, it was a work of art in its own right. 

Together we added designs and patterns both as a safety measure and to enhance the beauty of the area. Each step displayed the individual craftsmanship of each worker on the crew. The patterns allowed for additional grip and for more efficient water drainage during the rainy season.  

I was sitting at a short wall where my friends and I gathered together after dark one day for a brief period of socializing before we returned to our homes. I typically worked from dawn to dusk six days of the week, but I did not complain because my family desperately needed the extra income. My father fell ill the previous winter and was unable to perform his duties at the shipyard. The money my mother and sister earned on woman’s wages was simply not enough. Being that I was gifted with such talent when it came to working with stone, I earned a few more coins a week than most people at my level. 

After I returned home, I decided to stay outside a bit longer and enjoy the night air. I was not yet sleepy, and the cool breeze blowing up the hill from the sea felt wonderful on this late summer night. I sat on the wall that held the level of our family lot a few feet above the cobblestone street. The moon was almost full, and its reflection danced gently on the relatively calm waters of the cove. This was a sight I always enjoyed. The overall beauty of this aesthetically splendorous city on the hillside and the magnificence of the ocean made it worth all the work it took to live here. 

I noticed a faint glow emanating from the water near the center of the cove. Initially I thought it was no more than the light of the iridescent moon dancing on the water’s surface, but this faint blue glow remained unwavering in the water. It was obvious whatever this was glowing in the water was rising from the depths as it continuously grew brighter and brighter for several minutes.  

Although it got close, I was sure it never reached the water’s surface. I saw no rippling to indicate it did. Many times I heard the tales of the fishermen describing extraordinary creatures that produced their own incandescent display, but I never saw anything like it myself. On occasion I found a dead gelatinous sea creature washed up on the beach, but those were exceedingly smaller than what I was seeing now. To give it my best guess, I would say this illumination in the waters of the cove was nearly an arm span in width. 

Stunned and unsure what to think, I watched the thing in the water begin moving toward shore. Initially it moved very slowly, but it picked up speed as it headed toward the shipyard. At top speed it probably moved as fast as a skilled swimmer in calm water. After several minutes it disappeared under the concealment of the fishing boats that filled that section of the cove. I continued to watch for anything out of sorts for another ten minutes without seeing anything more before finally heading off to bed. 

The next morning the whole town was abuzz with talk of two fishermen who went missing some time during the night. The men were working long after dusk aboard the deck of their boat, and neither man returned home. They could not be found anywhere, which was abnormal on its own, but what sent chills down my back was what they found on board the ship. Although there were a few things knocked over and in disarray, there did not appear to be any significant sign of a struggle. All their clothes, all their belongings they had on them at the time were found in two piles aboard the deck. It was as if the men simply vanished, and their possessions dropped right where they were. 

Immediately upon hearing about what happened, I headed straight for the Constable’s building. Having worked so much on the city’s staircase system, I was very familiar with all of the pathways. I knew which paths, alleys or roads to take to get to my destination as fast as possible. More people than usual for this time of day were out on the streets because word of the macabre incident spread quickly. I was at the Constable’s office within thirty minutes of hearing what happened. 

I was shocked to find a crowd surrounding the doorway. Apparently, I was not the only one to witness that strange glow in the water last night. At least twenty people filled the law-enforcement official’s office, and three dozen more waited outside. I waited for a long time in an attempt to have my experience put on record, but when it started getting closer to mid-day, I decided they had enough accounts. There was probably nothing I could tell the authorities that those other witnesses did not, as I did not see anything beyond a strange illumination in the cove. 

On my way to my current worksite, I began to worry. Not once since I first began to work chiseling grooves into the granite stairs was I late for work, and I arrived very late today. I worried about losing my good standing in the guild for my extreme tardiness, but I was not the only one who did not make it to the work site on time. These disappearances in the shipyard had the whole city upset, scared and wondering what could be capable of doing such a thing. 

We did not get much work done during the remainder of the day. Everyone was talking about the two missing men and the strange light seen in the water. Fear quickly tightened its malign fists over the whole city as speculation led to rumors causing the story of the incident to change and magnify as the day went on. Those of us who arrived to work today tried to keep in the loop for what we hoped to be an update on the news. 

By the time the day came to an end, we heard so many different stories of what happened in the cove last night, I did not know what to believe. I knew once nightfall hit, we would hear no official word from the town criers at least until sometime the next morning. I could not think of one time in my life when the town criers went out at night. 

Our entire work crew was performing sluggishly the next day. They, as did I, stayed up late last night watching over the cove for any strange lights. Most of the city was up watching for something abnormal to appear, but the entire night passed without incident. We tried to get as much constructed as we could, but we were far from meeting our mark when the day came to an end. We had to push ourselves hard for the next few days to get caught back up to schedule. 

Several days passed without a statement from the Constable or any news from the town criers, and the population began to grow agitated with the lack of official information. Endless rumors already spread regarding the disappearance of the two fishermen, and now rumors were beginning to circulate regarding the city officials’ apparent silence on the matter. The Constable obviously picked up on the extreme tension building among the city’s residents, because he sent the town criers out the next day. 

The criers did not tell everyone what happened to the two men as we all hoped. Instead, there was a brief mention of the happening and then reassurances of the precautions being taken to ensure this incident did not repeat itself. Armed men were patrolling the cove and someone was posted to the lookout station at the top of the hill ready to sound the labraphone to alert the population of any danger. When sounded, the horn echoed through the cove waking anyone who was not already so. Torches lined the beach to aid with visibility at night, and the oil cisterns at the top of the hill would be lit to help illuminate the entire city. 

Needless to say, the public was not happy with the announcements. Everyone hoped for some answer concerning the details of the aberrant disappearance of the two fishermen. Although not happy with the news, the people of the city were glad to finally get an announcement of some sort. Knowing this was better than knowing nothing at all. 

Officials asked for any men of fighting age to take their turn patrolling the beach or manning the lookout post with its massive horn. The long horn was carved from the trunk of a single tree, and when blown created a nearly deafening roar that was easily heard all throughout the city. No one was required to volunteer, but according to the criers, the city wanted to muster together as many fighting men as possible. The time for organization was now before something else happened and not after it was too late. 

I still had little over a year before my fifteenth summer, so I was not allowed to join the fighting men. I did however sign up to cover several shifts at the lookout post. The building was still sturdy and the interior was in order. It was so long since the post was used though, dust coated every horizontal or diagonal surface in the structure. I was rather relieved my time to serve as lookout was still a few days away. Those before me should have it cleaned by the time it came my turn to watch. 

Tension laid across the city like a wool blanket. Everyone was afraid of what might come out of the water and what it might do to us. The fishermen were extremely reluctant to go out into the open ocean to practice their trade, but they really did not have much of a choice. Fish was our primary source of food. A few shepherds tended to flocks in the long valley on the other side of the island, but they were primarily raised for their wool. We could not turn to them as a primary food source. 

The fruit trees on the island provided a hefty bounty, but it could take days to gather enough to return to the city to sell. Some fruits lasted a week or two after being picked, but some only lasted a few days. For the gatherers these could bring in a very generous profit, but the chance of the fruit spoiling before it could be sold made such an option very risky. The safest way for them to make a steady income was to sell the fruits taken from the trees rather than shrubs and bushes. 

Without the fish, there simply would not be enough food to sustain the people of the city. The boats went out with extra crew armed with harpoons and spears in case whatever took those first two men tried to take them too. This fear and paranoia went on for several more weeks, but when the four-week mark from the day of the incident arrived, people began to relax again and let down their guard. 

Five days later, a few hours after dark, I was working my third shift at the watchtower. No one saw anything glowing in the water since the night of the incident four weeks ago. At this point it was getting to where people were not expecting anything else to happen. That turned out to be nothing but false hope. 

There was another man with me, and we talked about whatever we could think of to keep ourselves awake. I was sitting at the massive window in the bunker when I suddenly noticed what I thought was possibly glowing under the water. After a few seconds I saw two more spots. Immediately I screamed for my partner to blow the horn. He sat there for a moment as if he did not believe me, and I shouted at him again to sound the alarm. 

Frantically he scrambled to the mouthpiece of the gigantic instrument and began to blow. The sound was so loud, it was deafening from where I was standing. I covered my ears with my hands, but that did not provide much protection. Not once in my lifetime has anyone blown the labraphone for any reason, so I was not expecting it to blast as ear-stingingly loud as it did. 

I could not hear anything, but I could see the men gathering on the beach with their weapons in hand. As my companion continued to sound the booming alarm, people began coming out of their homes and gathering in groups. Some carried harpoons and spears while everyone else carried whatever they could find. Residents collected at specified places creating large crowds in multiple locations throughout the city. 

When the deafening roar of the labraphone came to an end, and my hearing began to return somewhat, I could hear others blowing smaller horns. It was not really necessary, but the tones helped boost the morale of the people of the city in anticipation of whatever was about to happen. 

My companion in the watchtower assured me he would be able to keep blowing the massive horn a few more times, so I grabbed my hammer and scurried down the hill to join some of the others. All the able-bodied men, and some of the women, from this part of the city gathered in the street not far from my home. Ready to do what I had to in order to protect my city, my home, I joined the crowd and found who had taken charge. 

From our current position, we could all see the light in the cove moving toward the beach this time. A dozen armed men, some of them also wielding shields, awaited the arrival of this dreaded intruder. When the gelatinous creature reached land, it slithered its way across the sand toward the nearest group of men. Outside of the water, the transparent mass outshined the torches lining the beach only twenty paces from the first row of buildings. 

Several of the men threw their harpoons at the abomination from the ocean’s depths, but they did not seem to faze the creature in the slightest. Instead of causing the creature harm, the transparent blob rapidly dissolved the harpoons leaving it behind as rust when it moved on. The creature suddenly stopped where it was and became motionless. Everyone thought it was probably unable to survive outside the water, and the men on the beach halted their retreat. 

Everyone watched helplessly in horror as the thing from the sea lashed out a tendril that engulfed the closest man’s legs. Before he had time to scream in terror and pain, his body converted into a transparent gelatinous mass. The creature absorbed the gel that was once a man and left all the man’s clothes and possessions lying in a heap on the ground. 

The other men on the beach threw their weapons at the amorphous creature in a futile attempt to injure the horrible thing from the deep. After disarming themselves, the men turned in a desperate attempt to save their own lives and ran as fast as they could. Two of the men were not fast enough, and the creature lashed out with several tendrils which converted their bodies to a gelatinous mass as it did with the first man. 

At this point the entire city was in a panic. People rushed into the narrow streets trying to make their way up the hill. Never before did the city ever need to be evacuated, so it was not constructed with this need in mind. Residents slipped on the cobblestone roads, and the panicked mob behind them did not stop to help them up. Dozens of people were trampled to death as the terrified crowd tried to make their way up the hill. 

I was helping my mother and sister get my father out of the house so we could get him to safety when I saw several more circular lights moving in the cove. People were screaming and fighting with one another as they tried to force their way up the streets and pathways. The pathways were even worse than the winding streets since they were constructed at a much steeper slope. 

I could not see the first creature to wriggle its way onto the beach any longer. I thought perhaps it headed back into the water, but then I saw a bright green glow coming from between some of the buildings closest to the cove. Whatever these things were, it was clear they had the ability to survive outside the water for short periods anyway. 

I knew of a pathway that was rarely used, and I hoped I could get my family to it and out of the city. We only had to get Father two tenements further up the hill, and then I was sure we could get him and ourselves to safety. To accomplish this, we were going to have to fight our way through the crowd until we could turn off onto a rarely used road where we could make our detour. 

A population that worked together so well for countless generations was now shoving and elbowing each other in a vain attempt to get just a little further up the hill. If everyone would only calm down, the exodus of residents would go much smoother. In their panic though, the normally cooperative people were ready to kill to get a few feet further ahead. 

Struggling to move with the flow of people while supporting my father was extremely difficult, and at times was almost impossible. My mother was in front of him so he could support himself by holding her shoulders while I walked beside him with my arms wrapped under his. My sister remained wedged between me and my mother. 

More of the creatures made it to shore and were overtaking the panic-stricken people closest to the cove. We could hear the people screaming, crying out in absolute terror for help as the glowing entities reached them and began to “feed.” Their voices could even be heard over the crowd surrounding us, then suddenly the lower section of the city fell silent. 

I felt a small sense of relief when we finally reached the smaller road. There were not many people using it because in this section of the city the road sloped downward a bit, and everyone was trying to push their way upward. This road was almost exclusively used by laborers, so not many people knew their way around here like I did. Now only passing the occasional terrified citizen, we were able to get my father to the closed pathway. 

No one was using this pathway at all because it was barricaded in most sections. Since this was the pathway on which I worked for the past six months, I knew it was almost totally complete. There would be a few places that would present us problems, but at least we were no longer having to fight the crowd of residents fleeing for their lives. 

The pathway between the rows of tenements was steep, which normally would not be a problem. After years of walking up and down steep hills, paths and staircases, one grew accustomed to it. My father’s poor health and weak physical state made what would normally be an easy task into a very difficult one. 

I stayed above and helped lift father up the path, and Mother and my sister stayed behind him to provide support. We reached a particular section that allowed me a wide view of the city. I could see at least a dozen places aglow with that eerie green light, which meant there were at least a dozen of those things already in the city. I could see more lights in the still water of the cove that were making their way to shore. 

For gelatinous creatures clearly out of their element, they were closing in on us quickly. If we did not pick up our pace, they would eventually catch up to us. I had my father wrap his arms around my neck while my mother and sister supported his legs. This allowed us to move a little bit faster, but I was not sure it was going to be enough. It was not long at all before this became too difficult to continue doing. 

I had no choice but to have to stop for a moment to catch my breath. Even if it was only going to be a few seconds, I had to stop because of the pain this was causing in my back. This was when my father said the words I did not want to hear. Father said there was no choice but to leave him behind. Without him we could escape. 

I told him I was having none of that; I was getting him out of here. 

He smiled proudly at me and said, “I had a really good life. I have a strong son who is growing into a strong man. Protect your mother and sister.” 

With that he pulled away from me and lunged down the stone staircase. I could see him break his neck on his second tumble as it suddenly moved in ways it should not. I yelled; I yelled at him and for him. There was absolutely nothing I could do, and I cursed myself for not holding on to him tighter. I was supposed to be helping him get out of the city. I was not supposed to allow him to fall to his death. 

My mother began crying hysterically, and I could not get her to listen to me. It gave me no pleasure at all to do so, but I had to give her a firm slap on the cheek to get her to finally settle down enough to pay attention to me. My father charged me with one last task, and I was not going to dishonor his memory by failing. I did not care what I had to do; I was going to get my mother and sister out of here. 

It was obvious by the increasing light the creatures were closing in on us. Since I could not see them directly, I did not know how many of the gelatinous horrors now occupied the city. I could tell, though; by the number of streets illuminated that many more came out of the water to join the ranks of this invasion. 

I got my mother and sister up the ledge and we were again running up the stairs. I stayed in the rear so I could protect them, although I had no idea what I would do if we did encounter one of these things. After seeing how that man’s harpoon skewered harmlessly into the sea monster’s transparent body, I did not believe there was any weapon I could find that would hurt these things. 

I tried to block out the terrified screams coming from the main road winding through the city. So many people were fighting each other in a race to get over the top of the hill, it made my stomach turn. Those creatures were consuming people one after another, and the people were killing each other trying to get away from them. 

Eventually our pathway came to an end in front of a row of large stone tenements. We had two choices before us. We could go to the right which would take us to the main road connecting the top of the city to the port, or we could take the alleyway to the left where we would find another ascending path in about forty yards. 

I knew the main road was out of the question as everyone in the city tried to force their way through the crowd. The only real option was to turn to the left and head for the next path. We only had three rows of buildings left until we reached the top of the hill. Fleeing from the top would be much easier than climbing up the pathway to get there. We were only a few steps into the alleyway, and I could see down the path where my father died was one of those things rippling like water as it oozed its way up behind us.  

Only a second later a group of people emerged screaming from between two buildings on the path I was trying to get my mother and sister to so we could finish our climb. Another one of those horrors from the deep was not close enough to them that I could see it yet, but its haunting green iridescence announced its presence. We were going to reach the pathway before the others, but I held my mother and sister back. I knew in their panicked state, this group would have thrown us aside in their attempt to get ahead. I decided we were safer behind them than in front. 

The gruesome monstrosity appeared between the buildings just as the group made its way past us. The abomination lashed out with an oozing tendril and struck the last one of the group in the back. I clearly saw the look of terror on the man’s face as he was only ten feet away from me. His body literally became transparent and colorless right before my eyes, and then the beast from the ocean absorbed his mass through its tendril into its body. 

Suddenly the glowing monster began to quiver and vibrate, slowly at first but with increasing speed. I rushed my mother and sister up the stairs as I did my best to keep an eye behind me. Even though I was unable to stare at the thing, I could see enough to know what was happening. The creature’s gelatinous body started to divide. That was how they were overtaking the city so quickly. After they absorbed enough mass, they divided and multiplied. The more people they consumed, the more of the ungodly things there were. 

Another family came scrambling from behind the next row of tenements calling out for help. There was nothing I could do to help them, and I had my own family to worry about. They did not make it to the steep pathway until we already made it to the next row of buildings. That was not soon enough, and the two new creatures down below caught up to them.  

We heard their screams, their terrified screams for help, and then they suddenly fell silent. I knew they were dead without looking. I knew in only seconds the creatures would consume the bodies, and if they did not reproduce, they would be coming up for us in no time. I could only hope the fact there were six people in that family would slow their progress even a little. 

With only one row of buildings left between us and the top of the hill, I could feel the freedom like I could feel my own pain. I knew the creatures were close behind us, and I looked for anything, and may the gods forgive me, anyone I could throw to slow their progress. The only thing I saw worth grabbing was a lantern someone discarded next to the path. 

Quickly I turned and threw it behind me before resuming my climb. There was a loud steady hiss, like wet wood placed in a fire. Sure I did nothing but anger the thing, I waited for that transparent tentacle to grab me from behind. We were almost to the very top when I turned to see what was happening. 

Both creatures lost their luminescence and were instead now burning with a low blue flame. I started screaming to anyone who could hear, anyone who would listen that fire was their weakness. Some people heard me, igniting and throwing what they could. Some were throwing lanterns and torches at the sea beasts, but it was not enough. We could not get enough of a spread on the flames to hold the creatures back. 

There was only one thing left we could do. I, along with a dozen or so others, picked up a log that was to be used for lumber and began to pry the base of one of the cisterns off the ground. The flaming cauldron was full of oil which would cover the ground if only we could turn it over. Several of the glowing horrors were almost within striking distance of us when the large apparatus began to tilt. Oil splashed from the rim of the cistern and set the ground before us ablaze. Reeling back from the flames, the creatures ceased their advance. This gave us the time to fully turn the huge clay container over until it began to roll down the steep hill. 

The black earthen cistern did not break when it fell to the next level like we expected, but instead began careening down the pathway that brought my family and I up to the top edge of the city. As it rolled, the massive vat threw burning oil all over the buildings setting row after row of tenements ablaze. Confronted with the flames, the monsters from the ocean began to retreat. 

The creatures that did not retreat quickly enough were ignited upon contact with the boiling hot, flaming oil. A second cistern rolled off its base as another group followed our lead. Within minutes our entire city was engulfed in flames.  

We watched helplessly as the gelatinous blobs returned to the sea, and our city, everything we had burned. I never would have imagined turning over the cisterns would cause such damage. I thought the fire would remain mostly confined to the top row of buildings since I did not expect the massive clay cauldrons to roll down the pathways as they did. The flames reached heights I did not think possible. The heat grew intense fast, and we had to retreat down into the valley on the other side of the hill. 

We remained deep in the valley until we saw only small plumes of smoke rising from the cove face of the hill. Families huddled together, some crying and some in a total state of shock. Everyone had difficulty coming to grips with the entire situation. Nothing so tragic ever happened in the history of our culture, and the surviving residents tried to cope with the horrific events as best they could. 

The fires continued for three days. The blaze did not stop until there was nothing left but the boats in the harbor. The stone walls of the buildings were charred and black but remained mostly intact. Beyond that there was nothing left. Not even half of the residents made it out alive. The rest were consumed by the alien invaders or trampled to death by other citizens as they tried to flee in the chaos. 

By the time the fires ended, there were no bodies left to give a proper disposal. So many people died. It was staggering, difficult to comprehend. Our friends and families fell victim to the illuminated horrors and the consequences of mass hysteria. We could not bear the pain of rebuilding our once glorious city. Almost unanimously the population of the island decided to leave the home our ancestors lived in for centuries, and set sail for a distant island chain. 

We loaded enough livestock for breeding when we arrived, and any nautical equipment that was not destroyed in the fire. Taking every boat we had, we said goodbye to our home and set sail. Our beautiful, sculpted city was now nothing but a hollow shell of blackened walls.  

With great sadness and heavy hearts, we left behind all we ever knew. The reason for the sea creatures’ assault remained a mystery to us. It never occurred to us that, when we over fished the waters, we were depriving anything else of sustenance. We were not attacked out of anger from the gods, or an invasion of gelatinous monsters. It was our fault. We depleted the waters of the giant schools of fish that once swam here. All they were doing was protecting their food source. Because of our ignorance, we had to say goodbye forever to our beautiful island cove.

Copyright 2023 ©

The Test

Word Count: 7,352

Due to the horrid state of the current economy, I found myself in dire financial straits. I lost my job because the company with which I worked for twenty years went bankrupt. My job was gone, my pension was gone, and if I did not come up with a lot of money fast, I was going to lose the house my grandfather built with his own two hands. 

Jobs were scarce. I was truly desperate for money, and I took any work I could get. I was working three part-time jobs at fast food joints, but that was not even remotely close to what I needed. I sold my luxury car and bought a small economic vehicle instead. I let my gardener go, so now I was doing the yardwork. I cut every expense I could trying to hold on to the house that was in my family for three generations. 

I felt like I was going to lose my mind trying to figure out what to do. The house was paid for. There was no mortgage on the house and no liens of any sort, with the exception of the lien from the IRS. That should be a crime in my opinion. I owned the house outright, but because I could not pay my taxes this year after losing my job, the government was going to take it and auction it away. 

I talked to one of my girlfriends yesterday who gave me one course of action that could save me at least for the short term. It is not something I would ever consider on my own, but it could really help me out at this point. A small pharmaceutical company needed test subjects for some experiment they were performing. It paid enough to knock away my tax debt and get me caught back up on the rest of my mounting bills. 

The idea of being a guinea pig for the testing of some new drug caused me a lot of anxiety, but I was simply out of options. I went through the initial exam and signed up to be a part of the trial the next morning. I was supposed to refrain from alcohol, illicit drugs and sex for two weeks before the drug trial was to begin. The facilitators told me to remain active, but not to overdo it physically for the last week before I was to report to the testing location. 

I would get paid at the end of the last day of the trial, then I could set my financial worries to ease for a large part of the year anyway. I wondered if all clinical trials paid this well, or if there was something special about this one. It paid more than I made in a year when I had a good steady job. 

I had to drive for more than two hours down a long road out into the forest where the testing facility was located. It seemed strange they would have their testing center so far out in the middle of nowhere. I spent one hour driving down the highway until I got to my exit, then drove two hours from there. Multiple turns along the way made me happy they provided me with a map. 

This must be a major testing facility or something, because the building was huge. It was shaped like a trapezoidal prism and had six stories that rose above ground. I had no doubt they had at least two basement levels, possibly even more than what showed on the surface. Every medical facility always seemed to have basement levels for the morgue and what not. 

A helicopter pad obviously occupied the roof as the building had a helicopter sitting on top of it. I did not know much about these things, but there appeared to be two more helicopter pads on the ground. I could not help but wonder why they needed so many. I began to have second thoughts, since it appeared they needed to have the ability to fly multiple test subjects to hospitals or something. Were I not so absolutely desperate for cash, I probably would have left. 

I parked my car in the designated area, took a few deep breaths and walked across the parking lot to the building. As soon as I entered, there was someone waiting to greet me. She went over the rules, expectations and such with me again as she led me into a private room. There she had me remove all of my clothes, including my rings and earrings. Next, I had to shower with a special soap and a rag for ten minutes in extremely hot water. 

Finally, I was led down a confusing maze of hallways, through the commons area for the test subjects and to the room where I would sleep for the next few weeks. I thought there would be more people involved in this study, but there were only eight bedrooms in this section of the building. I assumed all the test subjects would be held in the same area, but perhaps they had multiple smaller wards such as this one in other parts of the facility. 

My arrival made six subjects, and the last two arrived within the hour. It was fortunate I was not one who had trouble making conversation with complete strangers, because there were no TV’s, newspapers, or magazines. The facility did provide us with games and such, but unless someone was going to play solitaire, you still needed to talk to someone else. 

The group consisted of me and three other women, and four men. I know we were under observation the entire time, but I was still a bit shocked they had both the men and the women in the same ward. Maybe they were doing different combinations of people in different wards. The size of this ward was miniscule compared to the size of the parts of the building visible above ground, so I could not imagine this whole building was built to observe this one small wing. 

Slightly less than two hours after the last subject arrived, a dry monotone voice spoke over the PA system. The voice informed us we would be called one at a time to receive our first dose of the substance they were testing on us. One person would be called every ninety minutes beginning at six in the morning until everyone received their shot. Two of us were to be injected with the placebo, and the other six would receive the substance the voice only described as RT-220. 

My pulse increased, and I could see the anxiety on the faces of the others as we listened to that bland voice drone on about the procedure. No mention of what this substance was or what it was intended to do was made, only how the study would be conducted. Three times a day we were to get our weight and vital signs taken. We were to refrain from using our names, and instead we were to use our assigned number as instructed at intake. The men were 1 through 4 and the women were 5 through 8. 

Among other things, we were to provide a urine sample in the morning and after supper. At mealtimes we had to eat everything they gave us. We could drink all the water we wanted to drink, but only water. 

After listening to that voice go on and on with the instructions, I began to question my presence here. I really did not want to be the guinnie pig for something I was not even the slightest bit aware of what it was supposed to do. This was the only way I could come up with that would earn me enough to keep the house my grandfather left my mother, and my mother left me. 

For twenty minutes we listened to the man on the PA give us our instructions. By the time he was finished, I could not remember half of what he said. His voice was so flat and boring; it was extremely difficult to listen to him while staying focused. 

The first few days passed, and no one felt anything out of the ordinary. It did not take us long to figure out 3 was a real jerk, and 6 was a little miss priss who thought she was better than us even though she knew nothing about us. It was going to be difficult being trapped in here with individuals like them for several weeks without a break. I thought that would probably end up being the worst part of this whole thing. 

Some of us worked to get along. It made the time pass so much faster when there was not someone in the room with which I dreaded having to spend time. I spend a lot of time playing games with 1, 2, 4 and 8, or working puzzles with 1 and 5. Prissy little miss 6 continued to act as if she was too good to sit and spend time with the rest of us, and she generally spent most of her time sitting in her room writing what I assumed was her journal. 

It was early in the morning of day six of the study, and I was having breakfast with everyone but 6. For some reason 6 was not there for this morning meal. I wondered where she could be. We received our regular wake-up call this morning, and we all weighed in and had our vital signs taken. She was there for all of that, but she wasn’t here for breakfast. 

I did notice 6 was being very quiet this morning, but most of us usually are at that time of day. After I finished eating, I walked to the end of the hallway where 6’s room was fully expecting to find her back in her bed. She was not in there though. I went back and checked the commons area, which was the only place left she could be, but she was not in there either. 

The others were returning from lunch, and I asked them if they knew where 6 was. None of them had any clue where she might be. They all remembered seeing her at weigh in and vitals this morning too, but nobody could recall seeing her after that at all. It seemed to me like it would be rather stupid for her to leave the trial when she was already one-third of the way finished with it, but perhaps she could not handle being cooped up in here with us “lesser” people anymore. 

A few hours after lunch that dry, monotone voice came over the PA system again. This time the man explained 6 did in fact choose to leave the trial, and for the rest of the time there would only be the seven of us. We all did feel something of a sense of relief not having her here with us anymore. Now I wished 3 would leave. If he left, the last two weeks of the trial would be a snap. 

Two more days came and went as usual, but on day nine of the trial things started to become scary. Four of us were sitting around playing a game of spades when 1 fell on the ground and began having convulsions. He started to foam at the mouth, but what really made this terrifying was the foam coming out of his mouth was a bright orange color. I would expect it to be white, but it was as orange as the fruit. 

Someone was obviously keeping an eye on the monitors, because within thirty seconds of his collapse the doctors, nurses and orderlies were there taking care of him. They made the rest of us go to our rooms until they got the situation under control. The medical personnel got 1 strapped to a gurney and quickly wheeled him out of the ward. As they were taking him down the hallway and out the doors, 1 as best as I can describe it was growling. He did not sound like he was gurgling foam from his mouth. He literally sounded like a large angry dog growling at his nemesis. 

Several of us looked out the doors to our rooms to look down the hallway, but there was nothing we could see. The doors at the far end of the ward had no windows, so what was on the other side of the double doors was obscured from our vision. I wished I could see what was going on, so I could see what was happening to 1. 

I jumped, and my stomach churned as sparks momentarily filled my eyes when I heard the clanging of metal pans, trays or something crashing to the floor on the other side of those doors. The noise was far away and faint, but we could all clearly make out the sounds of a struggle taking place. I screamed, as did 8, when we heard the distinct sound of three gunshots being fired. The commotion on the other side of the door ended almost immediately. 

“Oh my God, did they just shoot 1?” 5 asked. 

“I-I-I think they du-did. I think so,” 2 replied. 

I stood there leaning against the door frame with my gaze fixed to a single spot on the floor. It was difficult for me to believe this really happened. He seemed just fine, then 1 fell on the floor having what I thought were seizures as he tore at his own clothing. I saw the look on his face as he writhed around on the floor. He looked terrified, like he was looking right into the face of the devil himself. 

What did they inject us with? What did I let them put in my body? 

We were told when we were sent to our rooms that we were to wait in them until we were instructed otherwise, but as we talked about what happened we all eventually took a few steps into the hallway. I do not think anyone was doing this to be defiant, we were all really freaked out by the scenario we built in our own minds. At the moment there was no way for us to really know what actually occurred on the other side of the doors, so our imaginations filled in the blanks. 

For the most part we all agreed what we believed happened was 1 somehow broke through the straps holding him on the gurney, and then he probably began attacking the medical staff. I am sure it was protocol to call security when the medical professionals came into the ward to get 1 and take him out. In an uncontrolled rage, 1 started attacking the staff, and security had no choice but to shoot him. No one really had a guess one way or another if they thought 1 survived the gunshots or not. 

A male voice, different from the dry voice that usually came on over the PA, instructed us all to return to our rooms. It told us to stay there for the remainder of the day. Our supper meals would be delivered to us, and we were to eat in our rooms. None of us were sure if we were to remain in our bedrooms for our safety or for the safety of others. 

I never expected anything like this to happen during this study. I suppose I knew there was a possibility something could go wrong, but this seemed to be turning into a nightmare. My thoughts turned to who might be the two placebo recipients.  

They did not tell us it would be one man and one woman, but all of us assumed as much. It was obvious 1 was not a placebo, so that gave the remaining men a thirty three percent chance of being safe. None of the remaining women were showing any side effects, but we did not know what the situation was with 6 since she left the study early. 

The official story the administrators gave us was that 1 was epileptic and did not inform anyone during his sign up or intake. They wanted us to believe that 1 had a seizure because he had not been taking his medications since the study began. The noises we heard were just him turning the gurney over and knocking over racks filled with various hospital supplies. 

None of us believed this cover story of theirs. There was no way the administration was going to convince me those last three loud bangs we heard were anything but gunshots. It was the general consensus among the remaining test subjects that the RT-220 did something that drove 1 mad, something like what rabies could do to a person. 

I was sitting in the commons area with 2 and 8 debating whether or not to continue with the study or if we should go ahead and leave. As we were having this discussion, 5 came out of her room with her stuff in a bag, informed us she was leaving the study and headed for the exit. When she reached the double doors, she found they were locked. 5 banged on the doors and tried her best to bust them open. 

The rest of us sat there and watched her for a minute thinking someone would come and open the door. While 5 continued to try to force her way out, the three remaining men went to the door to help her. They never told us we were going to be locked in. We were supposed to be allowed to leave any time we wanted. If that was the case, then why was I watching three strong men ram helplessly into two magnetically locked doors. 

I looked up at one of the cameras in the commons area and began shouting at them to let us out. This was the final straw for me and probably for everyone else as well. As soon as they came and opened these doors, I was leaving. 

No one ever came to the exit. Instead, that dry monotone voice came on very loudly over the PA and instructed 2, 3 and 4 to stop their assault on the doors. The three men did not listen, and they continued to try to force the doors open. The voice on the speaker system stopped and an extremely high-pitched whistle replaced it. This caused all of us to fall to the floor covering our ears in a futile effort to stop the extreme pain it inflicted. 

The squeal stopped after ten seconds, and then we heard nothing else over the PA system. Everyone was either cussing, screaming, or rubbing their ears with their fingers. I could tell just by looking at the others that they were currently as deaf as I was. It seemed like something out of a horror movie. This was only supposed to be a trial for a new medication. Now we were all being held against our will. 

Before our hearing returned, 3 moved a chair under one of the cameras in the commons area in an angered attempt to rip the camera from the wall. When he reached up and put his hands around it, he received a shock strong enough for us to see, but with our ears still ringing we could not hear the loud crack that accompanied it. He was thrown off the chair, and 3 landed hard on his back. 

I ran over and helped the other two men check on 3 and get him back on his feet. The charge was only enough to cause pain, but not physically damage him. 3 probably took more damage when he hit the ground than he did from the shock. 

When our hearing finally started to return, everyone seemed to be in a state of chaos. It was not until we could hear well again that we all stopped talking at once so we could try to figure out what was going on and what to do. Every one of us was clearly upset, but we had to calm ourselves down if we wanted to have any hope of getting out of this horrible situation. 

We looked around for anything to help us open the doors as we made note of all the visible cameras. It seemed the administrators already thought of those things. The cameras were electrified and there was nothing large enough to help us pry open one of the exit doors. Thanks to this historic recession, I was going to die in some lab rather than living in my beautiful home. 

That all-too-familiar voice blasted over the speakers and told us all to go into our rooms until further instructed. We stood there for a moment, afraid to act one way or another. The voice came back on and told us to go to our rooms until further instructed or what it called “incentive” would again be employed. Nobody wanted to be locked in their rooms, but they wanted to go through that torture even less. 

We were stuck in our rooms for two excruciatingly long hours before I heard the magnet lock on my door release. The voice told us it was mealtime and for everyone to go and consume everything provided. That was the normal procedure all along, so I had to wonder what the motivation behind pointing out that one particular instruction again was. Following our meal, we were told to return to our rooms. 

Everyone was quiet during the supper meal. We were all in something of a state of shock and denial. It was difficult for us to fathom the dire position we were in at the time. This seemed like something that only happened in movies or books, but not something that happened in real life. We did not know if we were ever going to get out of this alive. 

During the night I awoke to the sound of 4 vomiting in his bathroom. He went on for a couple of minutes, and then I heard the magnetic locks holding the exit doors release. Four hospital personnel pushing a gurney rushed to 4’s room, and they were accompanied by two security officers. Judging by the clacking and clanking I heard, the security officers were heavily armed. 

Something was wrong with 4. Even before the facility personnel reached his room, 4 went from vomiting to sounding like someone stuck a sock in his mouth. It almost sounded as if his tongue had swelled in his mouth. Listening to that, then hearing him suddenly stop seconds after the orderlies and security arrived frightened me terribly. There was a real possibility I could die here, and that thought caused a churning in the pit of my stomach. 

What scared me down to my core was the fact I heard all of that through my solid wooden door. I could identify the medical staff from the security staff by the sound of their shoes and clothing. I clearly heard 4 in his room gagging, even though both of our doors were sealed. These bastards were doing something to us that was changing us. I bet 6 never left at all. I bet she was dead and on a dissection table in the lower floors of this building. 

I did not go back to sleep after this. It was in part due to what I heard and how it made me feel, but I felt no need to go back to sleep. I felt as though I had a full night’s rest despite the fact I only slept for a few hours. They were doing something to me that was changing me fundamentally from the inside. 

I was glad when I heard the doors unlock and a large meal cart roll onto the ward. There were two orderlies and two armed security guards. Breakfast was delivered to our doors, and after the four left the ward, the voice instructed us to take our meals into our rooms and eat them there. My stomach was growling when my food arrived, and I ate it all in less than three minutes. I never scarf my food down like that, but for some reason I could not help myself. 

We were released from our rooms and instructed to bring our lunch trays and utensils and deposit them in the proper place in the commons area. I asked the others if they heard what was going on in 4’s room last night, but they all said they slept through the night hearing nothing. Wondering about my inquiry, 5 asked me what I heard. I told them what I was able to hear last night, but I did not get into too much detail. I did not what to make them afraid of me because I was changing. 

3 was being a lot quieter today than he usually was, even after what happened over the last few days. He almost seemed to be going through the motions, but no one was home. Staring at his tray, 3 was not paying attention to the conversation the rest of us were having about our situation and how we could possibly get out of it. 

Suddenly and without warning, 3 jumped across the dinner table and slashed 5’s throat with his fork. He gouged her neck with so much force the fork cut three inches deep into her flesh. As 5’s blood gushed out of her gaping wound, 2 tackled 3 in an attempt to stop him. 

Within a few seconds of 3 attacking 5, the high-pitched whine came over the PA system again. 8 fell to the floor screaming in pain, but it did not seem to bother the rest of us very much. In fact, I did not ever really notice except for the fact that 8 was writhing in agony. 

I ran over to try to help 2, who had 3 on top of him with a stranglehold around his neck. Grabbing 3 by the shoulders, I attempted to pull him off of 2. Instead, I lifted him up and threw him across the room. He hit the counter hard and fell to the floor in an unconscious heap. 

I stood there in shock looking at the crumpled body on the floor. The screech coming from the speakers finally stopped and I heard the sound of the double doors unlocking. Moments later armed security in black tactical gear surrounded us as several medical personnel rushed over to 5. It was too late; she was already dead by the time they entered the ward. 

The armed guards ushered 2, 8 and I back to our room as the others removed 3 and 5 from the ward. I heard them in there cleaning up the blood for more than an hour. The noise of the brushes on the tiled floor grated on my nerves, and I was so glad when they finally finished. I paced around my room trying to decide what I should do. 

Over and over, I played it in my mind how I lifted 3 like he was nothing but a rag doll and threw him twenty feet through the air. I was sure he was still alive at first, but then I really began to wonder if I killed him. He did not give me any other choice. He already killed 5 and he was trying to kill 2. Because she was squirming on the ground in pain, 8 could not help. All I intended to do was try to pull him off of 2. I never in my life expected I would throw him against the counter like a wet towel. 

If I was able to do that, I wondered if I would have the strength to push these magnetically sealed doors open. Remembering the cameras in my room, I tried not to appear as if I was devising my escape. Only three of us remained, and while I was still not sure who received the placebo, I was positive it was not me. 

We remained locked in our rooms until after lunch the next day. All our meals were delivered to our rooms until then. I was glad to finally get out so I could move around some. The rooms the facility provided for us were not too small, but they were not big enough to give any walking around room. 

I sat with 2 at the table nearest the exit doors putting together a puzzle. We did not talk much about what happened yesterday. We did not talk much at all. My attention was focused on the television I could hear through the doors and down the hall. Someone was watching the news, and I was glad to hear anything about the outside world. 

I slapped my hand over my mouth and began crying as I listened to the report. The newscaster announced there was a single car accident this morning in which the driver was killed on impact. The reason it upset me as it did was because when they gave the name and age, they gave my name and age. The people conducting this study never planned on letting us leave. I was sitting right here, but they already had their cover story for my death running on the news. 

Terrified and distraught, I jumped to my feet and ran to my room. Unsure of what was wrong with me, 2 followed me to my door. By the time he got there, I was sitting in my bed with my knees pulled up to my chest, my face half buried in my knees, and 2 asked me what was wrong. 

Under my breath I barely whispered out the words, “I’m dead.” 

“You don’t know that,” 2 said. “You might be one of the placebos.” 

I jerked my head up to look at him. I whispered those words very faintly, and my mouth was covered by my knees yet 2 still heard me. That meant he was probably experiencing the same effects as me. If that was true, I was sure we could break out of here together. 

I tested him again. Lowering my head so that the bottom half of my face was resting between my knees, I told 2 to nod his head if he could hear me. With my arms wrapped around my legs, I chuckled slightly when 2 softly nodded his head two times. At this time, I told my fellow test subject we should go back to the commons area. There we could sit in separate areas, yet still whisper our conversation back and forth to each other. 

We found 8 still sitting there looking over the wall. She turned her attention to us and said, “Aren’t they pretty?” 

We asked her was what pretty, and she said, “The lines on the walls. The glow around the cameras is so beautiful, so blue.” 

I took a couple of steps away from her, and so did 2. We did not know if she was about to go crazy like 3 did yesterday, so we felt having more distance between her and us was prudent. I watched how her eyes traced horizontal and vertical lines on the walls. It occurred to me that 8 might be looking at the electric wiring inside the walls. I very lightly whispered to 2 that I thought 8’s vision expanded like our hearing did. 

Walking back over to her, 2 asked 8 if she saw anything around the doors. She told us it was painful to look at it too long, but the top and bottom edges of the doors emitted a deep violate hue. I told her it was probably because of the magnets they had in place. With the abilities the three of us had, 2 suggested that we would be able to force our way out of here. I was frightened, but I had to agree with him. 

Staring at a single spot on the wall, 8 got up from where she sat and walked straight to the place her gaze was affixed. She traced her finger in an L-shape, then there was a loud pop, and the cameras began smoking. Turning to look back at us 8 said the cameras and microphones were all disabled. 

The three of us ran over to the double doors, but before 2 and I had time to attempt to force them open, 8 told us to wait. She examined the wall, found the right place, and traced her finger along the current. We could hear the magnetic locks unlatch, but by this time we could hear the armed security trotting their way down the hallway. 

With the locks undone, it was a minor effort for 2 and I to rip both of the doors off the hinges. Holding the thick wooden door in front of him, 2 began rushing toward the guards. They stopped their advance and began firing, but their guns were not quite powerful enough to make it through the thick wood. 

I moved over to stand sideways beside 2. He threw what was left of the door, after the bullets chipped away, at it at the security officers. When he did this, I stepped around and got in front of him with the door I held. Quickly rushing forward, it did not take long at all for 2 and I to incapacitate the guards. I held to the belief the guards were all unconscious, but with my newfound herculean strength I could not help but wonder if I killed any of them. 

Kneeling down to examine a patch on one of the officer’s uniforms, 2 looked over to us and informed us these were no security guards. These were Army personnel. We were not the subjects of an experiment for a pharmaceutical company. We were the subjects of a military experiment. 

“What kind of experiment would the military be running on us?” I inquired. 

“They were giving us injections of a substance discovered in a Mayan temple,” 8 told us. “It was found to alter DNA in certain plants and animals.” 

2 asked how she knew this. As she motioned toward the nurses’ station 8 replied, “The computer told me.” 

I could hear more soldiers coming as could 2. When we informed 8 of the change in our current situation, she began looking over the lines of electricity she could see flowing through the walls and floors. Finding what she was looking for, 8 squatted behind a reception desk and told 2 and me to do the same. 

As soon as all the soldiers were out of the hallway and into the main area, 8 pressed her hand against the spot she chose on the wall. A surge of power flowed from her hand into the wiring in the walls. The surge caused a massive eruption of electricity in the area the soldiers occupied. In only a few seconds 8 was able to incapacitate a dozen armed and armored soldiers. 

I did not know how much longer we could continue to fight our way out of here. It was clear we had to find an exit soon or make one of our own. I strongly disagreed, but 2 was rather insistent we should destroy this facility. If all of the RT-220 was here, we could destroy it all at once. 

I thought we should allow them to keep using it, allow them to make more of us. What concerned 2 was if they started changing soldiers to be like us. That would bring our planet to a whole new level of warfare. 8 was indifferent on the subject. She seemed to be experiencing some state of peace or euphoria. 

As if she was looking out a window, 8 said, “If we can get over there to that transformer station, I could light the whole place up like New Years.” 

Walking over to the wall through which 8 appeared to be looking, 2 began pounding at the concrete wall with his bare fists. After removing two feet of concrete, he ran into a heavy iron plate he could not damage enough to remove. 

Frustrated, 2 leaned against the wall with his hand on the hard steel. Suddenly the steel began to liquify. It was not melting, instead it was moving like mercury, it was acting as if being a liquid was its natural state. Resuming his assault on the concrete, 2 broke through two feet of concrete, a foot thick steel wall, then three more feet of reinforced concrete before reaching the fresh air of outside. 

As we prepared to jump the three stories to the ground, I noticed both 2 and 8 looked extremely pale, almost white. Their eyes were also changing. I imagined my eyes looked silver like 2’s eyes did, but 8 had eyes the color of copper. I was sure that had something to do with her ability to see and manipulate electro-magnetic fields. 

My anxiety levels increased sharply at the idea of jumping down 30 feet. I know I was stronger than before, but I was not sure if I was more durable. 2 lifted 8 and we jumped together. The air around us wavered almost like water and carried us all the way to the transformer. I could not say for certain at the time, but I think I was the one who did that. It appeared our newfound abilities were evolving quickly. 

When we touched the ground, the wavering air remained until my anxiety over the jump subsided. Liquifying the metal enough to give him a grip, 2 ripped the door off the transformer box and 8 began to examine the flow of energy through it. It took her several minutes, and it was not long before we could hear three helicopters off in the distance. There was no doubt they were headed in this direction. 

Finally, 8 found what she needed. She touched the circuitry inside like she was striking the keys of a piano, and a burst of violet light flashed from her hands. Almost instantly I could hear light bulbs erupting, computers bursting into flames and electric showers causing fires throughout the building. 

I was relieved to see at least some of the personnel inside exiting the building. I was now in agreement the research needed to be destroyed, but I did not want to kill all those people inside though. Most of them probably had no idea what was really going on in there, and it would be wrong for them to have to die because of it. 

Before we were spotted, 2 tugged 8 and I by the arms and told us we had to run. There was nothing more for us to do here, so the three of us turned and ran into the dense forest. How fast we were running exactly I could not say, but we moved much faster than any normal human was able. We were obviously no longer normal humans. 

Bounding through the trees as fast as we were, I was still able to keep a detailed eye on my surroundings. The trees were not a blur as I ran past them; instead, I saw the trees in intricate detail. I was able to make out the dry leaves on the forest floor even with the canopy overhead blocking out what little moonlight there was. Easily dodging any obstacles in our way, the three of us quickly put a significant amount of distance between us and the facility we left behind in flames. 

I do not know how they tracked us down, but we suddenly found the helicopters were right over us. Trees exploded into splinters and the ground exploded around as the military helicopters unloaded their guns at us. Smoke, dirt and debris suddenly filled the air around us. Giant shards of wood sailed through the air in every direction, but we managed to dodge any significant obstacles. 

It was something I could not put into words so that humans could understand it, but basically I knew the large rounds were coming before they fired them. All three of us easily dodged the artillery as we could see where it was going before their ammunition ever left their cannons. Avoiding the large chunks of shattered trees flying all around us was even easier. 

Regardless of our ability to evade their fire, it was only a matter of time before they switched from artillery rounds to missiles. I was sure we would not be able to dodge an onslaught of those. I was scanning the landscape for somewhere to run or somewhere to hide when 2 sprung behind me and caught a falling tree I somehow failed to notice. 

He lifted the log, which was the top half of a large pine tree one of the helicopters ripped apart with its shells, over his head and threw it top first at the nearest copter. With amazing aim, 2 threw the tree into the blades spinning above the craft causing it to come crashing to the ground. Running, we could hear it as it obliterated the trees behind us as it fell hard and fast. The explosion that followed threw the three of us to the ground. 

Thinking they had us pinned, the other two helicopters began to unleash on us. I knew they had us at this point. We were not able to get up and run again fast enough to avoid this barrage. Prepared to accept death, the three of us were shocked when everything slowed to a stop. Splintered fragments of trees hovered in the air above us, and the heavily destructive ammunition froze in position before it could strike. 

I glanced around to find we were surrounded by two dozen beings who looked a lot like us. These beings lacked some of the human facial features such as the nose and ears, but it was clear we were becoming like them. Clearly these are the ones responsible for the placement of the RT-220 in the first place.  

They stood around us as if they were watching this whole time. When we stood, the dirt and splinters drifting in the air around us pushed out of the way like wiping dust off a counter. It was as if we somehow stepped outside the normal flow of time. 

To say I heard it would be to categorize it wrong, but I heard them in my head telling us we were safe now. They did not use English. In fact, they did not use words at all. Instead, they communicated it in such a way that we just knew we were safe. 

A vaguely rectangular light appeared nearby, and the beings surrounding us slowly began to enter. We were told we could come with them, that they would save the three of us, but they would not save the others. I was not sure what they meant by that, but before I could ask my question out loud, I already began to receive my answer. 

This world was coming to an end soon, and these alien beings knew this. Their desire was to save us all, but they did not know if they could trust us. They placed the mutagenic substance here to allow us to evolve, to develop into one of them. Instead of using the compound for the betterment of all mankind, humans looked for a way to use it as a weapon of war. For that, these extra-dimensional aliens deemed the human race was not worth saving. 

This whole time the military was testing the RT-220 on people, they did not know they were being watched. They did not see the otherworldly observers all around them studying their every move. Those performing the experiments on us thought the test was a failure because we turned out to be uncontrollable. What they never realized was they were the ones being tested, and very miserably they failed the test. 

Copyright © 2023

The Bone Yard

Word Count: 6,612

I truly loved to spend time reveling in the magnificent beauty of nature. Being social was a skill I possessed in very small quantities, and for me making friends was far from being an effortless task. Sequestering myself in the wilderness to go fishing, hiking or camping were the things that gave my otherwise hollow life meaning. 

Since I worked four days at ten hours a day, I almost always had a three-day weekend. This gave me a lot of time to spend engaging in the things I so loved. On this particular occasion I decided to go for a hike in a rather familiar area of the Smoky Mountains 

I brought my fishing rod and reel along with a small tackle box containing the basic items I may need. Along the path I chose on which I was going to take my hike, I knew I would pass several streams. The streams meandered around the forest, and I knew where I would pass several of the crystal-clear waterways. Because of the way the streams twisted around the terrain; I would pass some of them multiple times. I planned to visit some places of which I knew that were great fishing holes. 

Waiting until late morning to leave on my hike, I knew the sun would likely be down by the time I was ready to return home. I brought with me a flashlight and a large lamplight. I also had a smaller back-up flashlight that stayed in my tackle box. My familiarity with the terrain was not an issue. I knew my trails well enough to navigate them under the dim moonlight. The function of the large flashlight was to watch for snakes and other wild animals native to the area. 

I reached a bend in the closest stream and was dismayed to find nothing but a small trickle in an otherwise empty waterway. Dead fish lay scattered in the mucky stream bed which indicated the water-flow stopped abruptly. The poor fish did not have time to escape downstream with the last of the water. Since the fish were not fully dry, I knew it also happened recently. Hopefully, it was nothing more than a dam of logs, sticks and leaves I could possibly dislodge on my own. 

There was obviously no point in stopping here, so I continued my walk. I hoped to find the clog in the stream and jar it loose. I reached the second elbow along my path, and the stream was empty here as well. I wondered how far up the way the clog occurred. At the end of a trail branching from the main path was another stream in which I liked to sit underneath the cool shade of the large trees to fish. 

I decided to head down this path and go to fish in that stream. Even though I still could not yet see this stream because of the trees and a slight hill, I was able to hear the rushing water. The closer I got, the louder the churning water grew. What I heard sounded much more like a river than it did a stream. I was shocked when I finally saw my auxiliary fishing spot. 

Normally, the stream was twelve or so feet wide and ran in a three-foot rut the water dug into the ground over the years. Now this stream filled the rut, overflowed from there and now spread thirty to forty feet wide, so much water forced its way down-stream, it looked more like something for rough river rafting. Fishing here was pointless. 

It became quite obvious to me the clog in the first stream diverted the flow of water to this one. If I wanted to find a place to fish, I had to continue on until I was above whatever caused the dam. I would not find any water deep or tame enough in which to enjoy one of my favorite outdoor activities here. 

It was a beautiful day. The walk was scenic, but I was still in the mood for some fishing. I hoped I would not have to hike too much further before I found stiller water. I could not fish in an empty stream like the first or in a torrential river like the second. 

An hour later I finally saw what stopped one stream and directed the water to the second. I was not near enough to see the clog yet, but I could see the cause. An incredible mass of rock and dirt fell from the almost mountainous hillside. The mudslide covered one stream for hundreds of feet. 

A moderately sized pond formed where the slowing water shifted to merge with the torrential stream. There was no way I would ever unclog it; the course and speed of these two streams changed forever. I hoped the newly formed pond would make a good fishing spot. Walking for an hour and a half to get here each time might get tedious after a while though. 

Getting myself across the flume turned out to be much more difficult than I anticipated. My feet sank in the thick dark-red mud, and some sections still shifted when disturbed. Several times I fell and almost broke the rod and reel in my hand. I slipped on the loose mud at one point and dropped my tackle box. The latch holding the box closed unsnapped, and the contents spilled out all over the soft dirt. This was obviously a very recent mudslide as the debris appeared not to have settled at all yet. Disappointed, I decided my best course of action was to pick up the spilled contents of my tackle box and turn back. 

As I gathered my scattered tackle, I glanced up to see the mudslide exposed a rocky opening to what appeared to be a cavern. I lived my whole life here and explored virtually all of the terrain within a day or two’s walk from my house. I knew of some small cavern networks, but I knew of none near my current location. I wondered as to where, if anywhere, the open aperture might lead. 

Once I finished gathering my tackle, I very carefully made my way off of the mudslide and back to solid ground. It took me longer to get back than it did for me to get where I took my spill as I was now being very cautious. I did not want to fall again and dump out my tackle, or even worse break my expensive fishing rod. 

I found a good spot to stash my fishing gear, made sure I had my flashlights and two large spools of fishing line, then began to climb my way up the mountain. Living in the mountains my entire life and spending so much time exploring the wilderness, I became a rather skilled climber. As long as I was not trying to scale a cliff, if the slope was seventy degrees or less, I could make it without the use of climbing gear. 

I chose a climbing spot several hundred feet from the obvious edge of the mudslide. The earthen cavity was not too high up the small mountain, and it only took me about twenty-five minutes to reach it. Scattered stones rose from the grass and moss covering much of the hill which made the climbing much easier. 

When I peeked my head into the cavern and gave my eyes a moment to adjust to the dark, I thought I could make out a very dim glow emanating from inside. I thought it might simply be the sunlight illuminating a cloud of mist or dust. Perhaps it was a bio-luminescent mold or bacterial growth in the damp cave walls. 

I checked my flashlights to make sure I did not damage them when I fell. The bulbs shined brightly in each one, so I felt confident I would be fine. Turning the lights back off, I stepped a little deeper into the cave and further away from the warming rays of the sun. As my eyes progressively adjusted to the dimmer light, I steadily made my way in a bit deeper. 

I did indeed see a dim yellowish glow coming from deeper inside the cavern. The tunnel was natural, and very irregular in shape, so it was not possible for me to see the source of the strange light. I heard of luminescent plants, fungi and even some deep-sea animals producing their own light, but this appeared much too bright for something like that. 

Before I lost sight of the daylight, I tied the end of my fishing line to a small rock outcropping. If my lights failed, or if I got turned around the wrong way, I could use the line to find my way back out of the ground. I learned this life saving lesson the first time I went into a small cavern with so many branches, twists and turns I found myself lost. Luckily that time I found my exit before the battery in my flashlight was exhausted. 

I slid the red filter over the bulb of the lamplight, adjusted the dial to the dimmest possible setting then closing my eyes tightly, I turned on the lamplight. Confident I had it on the lowest setting, I slowly opened my eyes. I was cautious not to blind myself before exploring any deeper, and with the light on dim the batteries would last longer. The red filter would allow my eyes to stay adjusted to the very low level of light. 

Some places in this crude passageway were tall and wide enough so as not to cause me any problems. Most of it though was short and narrow. In these places I had to crawl or even shuffle forward on my stomach to get through. I felt relieved any time I found a larger opening. In these places I knew I could turn myself around. It was very comforting to know, if I hit a dead end, I would not have to back myself up all the way to the surface. 

Progress was slow, but that was to be expected. In such small passages of jagged rocks and rugged ground, I needed to take a lot of care to avoid seriously injuring myself. Almost half an hour into my trek, I stopped to rest for a moment. In order to preserve my light’s battery, I turned it off as I set there to rest. 

It was not so obvious with the light on, but with my light off that slightly green tinted, yellow glow appeared to be getting brighter. I was not sure if it was because I was in absolute darkness or if it was brighter than it was when I was still near the entrance. I sat there for five or ten minutes. Glancing further into the cave, I tried to find a source. Too many twists and turns remained ahead of me to get a clear look. 

After climbing, walking and crawling through the bowels of the earth for nearly two hours, the small capillary in which I traveled spread into a larger cave. Unfortunately, a fifteen-foot rock facing separated me from the opening. I had to climb up the damp rock to continue my journey. 

I turned my light off and sure enough I found the strange glow to be even brighter here. It was even bright enough to allow me to climb without the use of my flashlight. First, I tugged and shook on the stones of the wall to make sure they were good and stable before I began my ascent. 

At the top of the rock face, the ground leveled out into a large grotto. I crawled into the large space and quickly brought myself to my feet. Finally, I found the astounding source of the strange light. I could not wrap my mind around what I saw. The grotto was only a niche in a much-much larger cave. 

Covering the walls and ceiling were hundreds of thousands of insects twice the size of a man. The creatures crawled about, and the whole place seemed to sparkle as the giant bugs turned on and off luminescent bulbs at the end of their abdomen. They produced a yellow light, but occasionally and very briefly some of their wings flashed a bright green. 

Fear wrapped its strangling fingers around my throat for a moment. I could not breathe. Seeing such massive insects shook me and left me unable to move. I did not know what these things ate, but I certainly did not want to be on their menu.  The giant insects clung to the ceiling and walls, crawling around the stone and over each other. When I finally decided it appeared the massive bugs had no interest in me, I continued to move forward. 

The grotto in which I stood was far above the floor of the giant cavern, so I was unable to see what was below. I slowly moved forward until I could see what was at the bottom. I was most assuredly afraid, but I believed I made an astonishing discovery. In the luminous cave, I found something no other human in recorded history ever set eyes on. 

Illuminated by the swarm of insects above I saw mushrooms the size of trees covering much of the cavern floor, and giant stalagmites rose into the air. I heard of fossils of mushrooms this size being found, but no reports in modern times of any live fungi this large were ever made. None of the insects appeared to be on the ground. Apparently, they stayed on the walls and ceiling. I thought perhaps they consumed the mushrooms, and I wanted to get down there so I could take a better look. 

Something of a ramp ran along the wall connecting the grotto to the lower level. Some of the bugs crawled on and around the ramp, but this appeared to be the only way down. If I wanted to explore the bottom, I had to get through the giant beetles. This was something I definitely did not want to do, but I had no choice if I wanted to see more. 

Very slowly, I began to take one tiny step after another. To my relief, the enormous insects stayed safely away from me. Whenever I approached one, it would slowly scurry out of my way. They seemed to be leery of me, but not afraid. 

The ramp was long, and moving as slowly as I did, it took me nearly an hour before I could better see what was below. Here and there I saw the beetles feeding on the top of the mushrooms. An amazingly large variety of mushrooms grew in this strange place, but the creatures appeared to be particular in what they ate. Displaying none of their bioluminescence, the beetles chewed the tops off what look like morels. 

The bugs quietly descended from the walls or ceiling landing on these thirty-foot-tall mushrooms. They did not fly down; it was more like they were gliding as if to make no sound. For only minutes at a time the giant insects fed. As they abandoned their eating spot, they ascended quickly into the air. Fluttering about for several minutes, the beetles then found a landing place on the ceiling or walls. 

A ridge varying in height from a foot to fifteen feet tall stood between me and what was beyond in the cave. Initially I thought it was some natural rock formation. Upon closer inspection, I found the ridge to be composed of feces. The massive lightening bugs crawled on the walls and released their droppings from there. I started to worry a massive dropping from one of the huge things from that height might kill me. I found the shortest place and as quickly as I possibly could I jumped across. 

I still landed at the edge of the fecal ridge and almost lost my balance. When my feet shifted slightly under me, I came close to falling backward into the pile of insect dung. It did not stink that much at even a short distance, but the discards held a deeply pungent odor up close. I nearly vomited at the thought of almost falling into it. 

My first spool of fishing line exhausted shortly after I reached the grotto. I looked for a good place to tie off my second spool, but I changed my mind. With the yellow lights crawling about, the ramp was obvious and visible. I decided to hang on to it for later use. 

The fungi forest was comprised of mushrooms varying from an inch to thirty feet in height. Feeling the stalks, I found them to be at least as hard as wood. Some mushrooms grew in tight clusters, reaching a height of only six feet or so with much smaller caps and tender stalks. 

Because of the size of the mushrooms and their caps, seeing into the fungal forest was nearly impossible. Only specks of light from above found its way between the caps and onto the cavern floor. Given the near absolute darkness of the forest, I found a narrow, five-foot-tall stalk to which I could attach my fishing line. 

I had to use my flashlight if I was going to go any further. I made sure I still had the red filter in my powerful lamplight. Keeping the power adjusted to the dimmest setting, I turned it on and allowed my eyes to acclimate to the darkness. Using a bright white light would keep me blinded to everything on which I was not shining it. 

An amazing number of different mushrooms filled the area. Some of them resembled mushrooms with which I was familiar, but many more were much stranger. In this subterranean world, plants did not have the necessary sunlight to develop. The fungus here was allowed to evolve and grew much more so than on the surface. 

I tied off my line, and after scanning the area for a good five minutes, I slowly and cautiously began to enter the mushroom forest. Fecal material from the insects dripped off the caps here and there, but not too frequently. When I looked at some of the shorter stalks, I saw many of the round caps were concave and not convex. It appeared these mushrooms evolved to absorb nutrients from the top rather than what was on the ground and below the slick, thin soil. 

Slowly I scanned the area with my flashlight and then began cautiously moving into the fungi forest. Thus far I saw no forms of animal life beside myself with the obvious exception of the giant insects. I was sure I would see rodents and possibly common insects, but there was nothing but the colossal mushrooms. 

I had to be careful to watch my step. The cave was probably at one-hundred percent humidity, and although the ground was mostly rocky, it was very slick. I did not know if it was fungi, a sort of algae or simply the dampness, but I almost slipped on the slimy surface several times. The last thing I needed was to injure myself and be unable to get back out. 

At one point, the ground began to slope. It only dropped gradually at first, but the floor became steeper and steeper. I tried to find a way around it, but the slope seemed to cover the whole ground area. With the rocks so slippery, I almost turned back. Right before I turned to go, I noticed the sloping ground turned into what appeared to be another ramp leading even deeper into the earth. 

I decided to proceed and see where this new ramp led. Something suddenly dawned on me and left my head spinning. It became obvious to me this was not a natural ramp. Clear tool marks scoured the wall and floor. I would think perhaps it was carved by primitive man a long time ago, but there was a dry trail leading right through the middle. Something used this ramp often enough and maintain a worn path. 

I would think the narrow trail worn through the slime on the floor to be made by some animal, but the tool marks proved otherwise. At this point I really thought about turning around and running back to the exit. This was quite terrifying, but it was also exhilarating. I was probably about to discover an intelligent species no human ever encountered. I could only hope they were a benevolent race. 

They did seem to be completely isolated from the rest of the world, so it was very possible they never encountered someone from the human race in the past. There was a possibility that could make me seem very frightening to them. 

I carefully made my way to the ramp. With the steady drop of the slope, I still feared the danger of slipping and falling. I made it about twenty feet down the ramp when I heard a loud hissing sort of screech far behind me. I could hear the frantic fluttering of wings. It suddenly occurred to me, the reason the giant insects descended quietly, fed for only a few minutes, then fluttered loudly back to the upper section of the chamber. They were avoiding and warning the others of a predator. 

Now I did not know what to do. I wondered if I walked past or right under whatever just attacked that giant bug. If I did encounter something, I had no idea what to expect. If I did pass one, why did it not attack me? 

Then it dawned on me. The reason I saw no other animal life here on the ground was because everything was overhunted to the point of extinction. There was nothing at the ground level for these predators to eat except for the occasional unfortunate insect. Terror washed over me as I realized I may be their next meal. 

Horror coursed through every nerve in my body making me shiver with fright. Standing there at the top of this ramp, I realized I would assuredly become food if one of those predators found me. I was not sure if I would be safer in a clearing so I could better see something coming, or if I should go back into the forest of mushrooms. There I may be more concealed, but so would anything out there hunting me. I now deeply regretted my decision to explore this wondrous world on my own. 

Moving very slowly, controlling my breathing, and otherwise trying to remain silent, I used my fishing line to lead me back to my original location. I maybe made it a hundred feet when I felt a forceful tug pull on the plastic line. Nothing else happened for a few minutes, then I felt the fishing line begin to twitch and vibrate. 

Whatever the thing was, it was following the line and could be making its way to me. Now I was faced with one of the greatest challenges yet. I could keep following my line and hope whatever held it would let it go, or I could move deeper into the haunting, fungi forest and take the chance of becoming hopelessly lost. 

I could hear nothing. Whatever was following my line made no sound I could hear. The tugging on the string told me whatever it was, it was getting closer. I resolved to the fact I had to let go and hide amongst the giant fungal stalks. 

It was not possible for me to turn off my light. Without it, I would do nothing but stumble around in the darkness. I kept it dim and left the red filter in place. I hoped, since whatever this was lived in a subterranean world, it would have very poor eyesight at the least. 

If this thing did have poor or no eyesight, it had to rely on other senses. At that moment I noticed how loud my breathing seemed to be in the silence of the cap covered forest. Each step I took now sounded to me like a bolder hitting the ground. 

I tried to calm myself and ease my breath and took great care in keeping my footfalls silent. Slowly I moved away from my lifeline and stepped further into the fungi forest. I did not know what was coming toward me, but this was its world. If I did not keep quiet, this thing was sure to follow me. 

If one of these creatures was near, it only made sense to reason that more of them would be stalking about. I could be surrounded by these predators and not even know it. I truly wished I never came to this subterrainian world, especially not alone. No one else knew I was here. If something was to happen to me, my body would probably never be recovered. 

I stood with my back against one of the giant fungi stalks and watched for whatever followed my line. Finally, something came into view. It was like no creature I ever saw or heard of. It appeared somewhat human, but its features were grotesquely distorted. Its arms and legs stretched a foot or two longer than a normal person. It crawled on all fours, plucking at the line as it went. The torso was short, and its neck was afixed to the back of its head instead of below the jaw, making it face straight forward in a terrifyingly distorted way. 

Suddenly it stopped at the point where I let go of the line and stepped deeper into the forest. Sniffing the ground, it began to follow my scent toward my current position. With it coming toward me, I got a better look at the hideous face. Its eyes appeared a milky white giving it the appearance of a corpse. Its nose was long and sharp, which it used to track me. The ears were massively oversized, which told me it could hear very well. 

I tried stepping backwards, but I could not watch it and where I was going at the same time. I turned and began to walk away, but it obviously heard me. It scuttled along the ground with rapid motions and would be upon me very soon. I tried getting away as fast as I could, but my feet were not made for this terrain. This thing obviously was. It was on me in no time. 

The creature sprung through the air from twenty feet away to crash down right on top of me. I felt its talons dig into my skin as it knocked me to the ground. The pain was absolutely excruciating. I did not know if it had venom in its talons or if it was simply the bacteria and grime under its nails. Whatever it was, it stung immensely, like lye poured into a wound. 

I wrestled with the beast as it tried to pin me solidly against the ground. The creature evolved for this underground world, but it was not built for fighting something like me. It had a very poor range of motion in its neck, and it could barely lower its head toward me, which put me at somewhat of an advantage. I struggled against this thing, then I managed to reach my shin and remove the fishing knife I kept tucked in my boot. 

In our struggle, I almost dropped the knife several times. Finally, I obtained a solid grip on the handle and plunged the blade straight into its chest. When the metal pierced its sickly pale flesh, it let out a piercing scream. It squealed so loudly, the volume caused my ears to throb. With it distracted from the pain, I managed to free myself from its grasp, and I plunged the knife into it over and over. Ichor so dark red it was almost black spilled out of its wounds. It covered my shirt, arms and face. The stench was so intense I almost began to vomit. 

Finally, the thing stopped its screaming and struggling and fell limp on top of me. As I fought to roll the beast off of me, I heard the screams of others in the distance. Others heard its piercing screech and were no doubt coming to its aid. 

It was difficult in this mushroom forest for me to determine the direction from which the other screams came. I could not tell if it was an echo effect or if the things were surrounding me. I put the deceased creature to my back and began to run as fast as the slick ground allowed. In our struggle, I lost my sense of direction and could only pray I was not running back to the ramp descending deeper into the earth. If I was to survive this ordeal, I needed to find a way back to the sunlit world. Going further down would surely mean my demise. 

Here and there I could see a bit of light coming from the ceiling crawling insects. I looked for some sign as to which direction my exit might be, but I could only make out small portions of the ceiling at a time. I could not see the walls of the giant cavern at all. My only hope was to keep in the direction I was headed. 

I heard these things screeching softly and knew they were closing in on me quick. I picked up my pace and made no more effort trying to be quiet. These encroaching creatures followed my scent, so noise really did not matter at this point. Even as adept as these creatures were to this terrain, I could hear their taloned digits scuffling toward me. 

I turned back as I was running in an attempt to see my pursuers. I only turned for a very brief moment, but that was far too long. I should not have looked back, because as soon as I did, I slid on a cone of insect dung and plunged face first into a six-foot-tall pile of guano fallen between some of the giant mushroom caps. What came next was the last thing I would expect. The grotesque abomination ran right past me. It continued another fifty feet or so, and then screeched so loudly, it echoed through the forest. 

Four more of these abominations of what might have once been humans arrived at my location. They screeched back and forth, talking I guess. Fanning out, they sniffed the ground and mushroom stalks in the immediate area. On two occasions, the creatures moved right around me. 

It was the dung. Apparently, these things relied mostly on their sense of smell. As disgusting as it was, sinking into the pile of insect feces saved my life. The smell of the guano was much stronger than my own scent, so I was now invisible to them. 

They continued to scan the area, following the scent of my trail which led me here. I could not really say how long they searched for me as time felt meaningless. Eventually, they gave up and all five ran off in the direction I believed the descending ramp to be. I waited for a long time. I waited to see if I could hear any of them before I moved. 

I tried to clean the lens of my flashlight, but I could not get it to produce enough illumination to be useful. Feces smeared on the lens blinded the glow. There was one option available to me, I could remove the dung smeared filter and shine it in its normal brightness. I was entirely certain these creatures were blind, so I did not worry about the glow of my electric lamp drawing any of their attention. 

Now I could see the slick ground and the large stalks clearly. It was an amazing sight, were I not terrified beyond comprehension. All that mattered now was getting out of here. 

Slowly and quietly I rose to a standing position. I tucked my pants into my boots and filled my jeans with the dung. I filled my pants pockets. I tucked my shirt into my pants and filled that as well. I caked it on the outside of my jeans. The smell was ghastly and the fumes stung my nose and caused my eyes to burn. Struggling not to vomit, I caked as much of the material on my body as would stick. 

Once I felt comfortable my scent was sufficiently masked, I began to walk toe to heel very slowly. Very quietly I moved forward scanning the area with my large flashlight. It was hard to say how long I walked, but my heart raced with excitement when my lamp shined upon a wall of stone. I reached the side of the cavern. 

I moved along the wall watching the lightening bugs above. I was trying to find some indication as to where my ramp to the outside was. I thought it would be easy to locate, but from this angle, it was really difficult to tell. Eventually I reached a rather large patch devoid of the massive mushrooms. 

Scanning the walls, I finally located the ramp by which I entered. It was on the far side of the cavern. I went the wrong direction and was now the furthest from my exit as I could possibly be.  Tears ran from my eyes, not from the horribly pungent odor covering my body, but because of the fact I knew I would never leave this place. 

My lips began to tremble as I fell to my knees. As hard as I was trying to escape this dungeon, all I did was get myself even deeper into the nightmare. It seemed all hope was lost until I looked upward. A light shined into the cavern from above. I thought it no more than an illusion, a figment of my terrified mind desperate for escape, but after a few moments I was sure it was real. 

It was probably one hundred feet or so up a steep incline. Regaining my composure, I rose to my feet and started making my way along the base of the wall. The wall was steep, but it was also very craggy. The rocks provided plenty of hand and footholds. It was well within my ability to climb. I just had to make sure I did not let myself slip on the slick rocks at the bottom. 

I wiped the drying dung from my hands. I could not hold onto my flashlight and climb at the same time, so I undid part of my belt, slipped it through the handle then re-buckled it. I would not be able to direct my light very well at all, but it did allow me to see the stone wall immediately in front of me. 

Carefully and quietly, I began my ascent. The craggy wall was slick at the bottom but became drier and coarser as I moved upward. It was a long climb. I wanted to go as fast as I could, but I had to continue to be as quiet as I could be. I was very careful to make sure each stone was firmly in place before putting any weight on it. I did not want to kick a rock loose or anything else to alert the abominations in the fungi forest as to my current location. 

When I was almost two thirds of the way to my escape, my left foot slipped underneath me. I managed to keep my grip, but I smashed my leg against the stone. My shin scraped against the rock, and from sheer instinct I almost cried out in pain. I was able to restrain myself and did not shout as my instincts told me to do. 

Planting my feet once again on the stone jutting out below me, I continued my climb to the glorious light of the sun shining through the small hole. As I approached the exit, I saw the carapace of some of the lightening bugs here and there. It looked like perhaps the insects died, fell down the wall and wedged into the rocks. 

My heart raced and my ears rang as my blood pressure increased. Anxiety, fear and joy caused my head and knees to shake. I had to be careful. I was too close to my escape, and I was not going to let this opportunity slip away from me. It was a blessing to find this opening after I journeyed so far from my original entrance. 

Determining the size of the opening when I was at the floor of the cavern was difficult, but as I got closer and closer, I could see the opening was plenty large enough for me to crawl out. It was fortunate for me as I worried I may have to jar stones loose to widen the opening. 

An unbelievable sense of relief washed over me when the warm light began to shine on my face. The rays of the sun never looked so beautiful. I grabbed onto the outer edge of the hole and pulled myself out. I nearly let loose when I saw what covered the slope outside. 

Spread across the ground I saw hundreds or possibly thousands of the chitinous shells of lightening bugs. That was not what terrified me so much. When I looked around, I saw the bones of cattle, deer and all sorts of wild animals. That meant either the poor animals somehow wandered into the cavern, which seemed unlikely, or the more logical answer was these monsters hunted outside of their subterranean world. 

A wave of nausea, numbness and horror washed over me when I saw the skulls and bones around me. Among all the animal bones and insect carapace, I saw the skulls of several human beings. I did not know how they ended up being a part of this field of bones. Perhaps these creatures were responsible for the occasional unfortunate missing hiker in the mountains over the years. 

As I started to pull myself the rest of the way out of the darkness, I felt something grab hold of my legs. I screamed in agony as something sharp pierced my flesh. The pain was so intense I could not breathe, and it burned, like lye. 

My heart was still beating as I felt those subterranean terrors rip the flesh from my legs. Here I was so close to escaping back into my world, and the underground humanoids located me. Their sharp talons tore into my abdomen, and I could no longer hold myself out of the hole. 

I did not realize my excitement to reach the surface increased my blood pressure which caused the abrasion on my shin to bleed. I covered myself in guano to hide from them, and they located me over the scent of the blood from a small scrape on my leg. 

The deformed beasts pulled me into the hole as they ripped the organs from my body. Right there, they feasted on my flesh. Helplessly I watched them tearing me apart; then suddenly everything got cold. The darkness of death finally took me. 

I was so close. I reached the warm, welcoming sunlight and thought I was safe. I was dead wrong, literally. I was momentarily back in my world and those abominations drug me back into theirs. Soon, after they were done feasting on my soft flesh, I would return to the surface take my place as part of the bone yard. 

 Copyright © 2023

We Didn’t Know

Word Count: 5,359

It was a beautiful early summer day. The sun was shining, there were only a few clouds in the sky and a light breeze prevented it from feeling too hot outside. It was the perfect weekend to go on a fishing trip. 

My friend Brad and I planned this trip three weeks ago, and we were so happy to find the weather was beautiful and not gray and raining. Brad’s wife brought their two kids over to my house where my wife was staying behind with our son. 

I was so happy to be able to go off on this three-day fishing trip. We got everything packed and loaded yesterday, so all we had to do was hook the boat up to the truck and go. We got off to a very early start since the lake we were headed to was a little shy of being a two-hour drive. We did not want to get there too late because we still had to get our tents and camp set up, and our yo-yos tied to some trees. 

Every month Brad and I take a mini vacation while our wives watch the children, then two weeks after that Brad and I watch the children while our wives go out and have some fun. Their time away usually did not last as long as ours simply for the fact they spent their money on their weekends much faster than me and Brad. Brad and I slept in tents, ate what we caught and drank beer. Our idea of a great time away from the wives and kids was very cheap compared to our wives’ time away from us. 

The drive was very beautiful and scenic. Wildflowers of all colors covered the shoulders of the road and were visible in the open fields on either side of the pavement. Large oak trees dotted the landscape here and there which provided shade for the numerous cattle grazing the bright-green fields. Man-made ponds were located near most of the trees to provide the cattle with water to drink. 

We never saw this end of the countryside before as we never went to this particular lake before this. Brad heard about it from another friend of his, and after locating it on a map, we decided that was where we would go fishing this time. We found the lake on a map, so we knew how to get there. Where to go once we got there, we would have to figure out after we got there. 

As we got closer to the lake, we saw more trees and less open space. Neither of us knew if the lake was in a forest or in the open, we only knew where it was. Judging by the gradual increase in the number of trees, I thought the lake was probably surrounded by forest. When we got to our turnoff, we found ourselves driving down an old dirt road running through some very dense woodlands. 

Driving much slower now, it took us thirty more minutes before we finally spotted the lake. We got out of the truck and walked over to the water to try to figure out how we were going to launch the boat. There did not seem to be any constructed boat landings in this location. I suggested we keep driving a bit more as I was sure there would be a boat ramp somewhere.  

We never saw any signs saying this was private property, therefore I assumed this beautiful lake would attract a lot of fishermen. The road was relatively smooth, but the surrounding terrain was very rocky. More than a few cliff faces provided a border for the water’s edge, some of them rough and some of them smooth and eroded. Following another thirty minutes of driving, we located a spot that should be perfect for releasing the boat. 

We got everything loaded into the boat then I guided Brad as he backed the truck down to the water. In less than five minutes we had the boat in the water and the truck parked well off the road. This was a routine we went through on numerous occasions, so we performed the task like clockwork. Everything we needed would not fit in the boat at once, so once we found the place we were going to make our campsite we would have to come back and get the rest. 

The lake was beautiful, surrounded by trees, rocks and cliff faces. I was really surprised we did not see any other people out here boating, fishing or skiing. The hidden body of water was more than adequately sized for all three of these activities to be going on, but so far it appeared Brad and I were the only ones here. 

We spotted a nice area with a small clearing that had a natural grass-covered ramp running to the water from the surface six feet above. The ramp fell between two large rock formations and provided an easy way back up to the flat surface at the top. Brad and I unloaded the boat, set up our tents and went back to get the rest of our things. By the time we were finally finished, it was already noon. Our original plan was to be fishing for several hours by now, but that did not happen the way we planned. 

Since it was so late already, we decided to fish from the bank and see what kind of luck we had there. We got a few nibbles here and there, but the water here was too shallow for the larger fish. Brad and I both caught some brim, and I got one decently sized catfish, so we had our supper to fry up tonight. 

Once three o’clock came around we brought the beer cooler down to the water’s edge with us. That was one rule we had when we went out fishing; we never started drinking before three in the afternoon. That prevented us from drinking too much too early, crashing and passing out before the sun went down. 

By the time we were ready to stop fishing and clean our catch, we caught nearly two dozen fish. Sure, some of them were small, but we had plenty to feed us well tonight. I could not wait to chow down on some fresh fish, and it did not get any fresher than being caught to fried in a couple of hours. 

When we first started these trips, we used a stand and built a fire to heat the oil to fry our fish, but on one trip the oil got hot enough to ignite. The hot grease spilled on the ground and the fire destroyed a lot of our gear. Since then, we bring a safe propane tank with an adjustable burner hookup to do our cooking. 

We decided against lighting a campfire tonight as we both planned to try to get to sleep soon after we ate. We passed a spot in the lake on our way out here with several large trees reaching far over the water, and we thought that would be a good place to put some spring-loaded yo-yos for catching perch and other top feeders. In order to do much catching with those, we needed to get them out as early in the morning as we possibly could. That meant waking up an hour before sunrise so we would be on the water by sunrise. 

We were on our second post-meal beer when we heard something off in the distance. It was so far away and so faint, I was unable to discern what it could be. We both remained quiet, looking out into the forest, as we waited for the sound to come again. After a few more minutes, we heard it a second time. It sounded almost like children trying to imitate the sound of a flock of sheep. There was something more, something that did not sound natural about these noises. 

At this point Brad and I decided a campfire would probably be a good idea after all. I surely did not want whatever animals that made noises like that coming anywhere near our camp. Brad got the fire started while I made sure all of our lanterns had plenty of butane. We did not really care for burning our lanterns all night, but the extra light might help keep those animals, whatever they were, at bay. 

I was tired and half drunk, so it did not take me long to pass out once I climbed inside my comfortable sleeping bag. I awoke to the eerie baying sound we heard earlier; except this time, it was much closer. It sounded like it could be within fifty feet of our campsite. Now that I could hear it more clearly, I would call it more of a cackling sound than a baying. 

It was simply impossible to describe as it sounded absolutely nothing like anything I ever heard before. In all my years of hunting and fishing, I heard all sorts of animals from a wide variety of places, but I never heard anything that sounded like this. 

The strange noises did not last long, so I assumed whatever creatures were making them must have passed on by us. Just in case, I retrieved my pistol from the waist of my shorts and laid it beside my pillow. If something did come tearing into my tent, I wanted to make sure I could give it a good reason to go away. 

The next morning, I inquired of Brad as to whether he heard the noises in the darkness around midnight. He told me no; he managed to sleep soundly through the night. I was sure it was probably some sort of weasel or small rodent making the strange sounds, but I would feel a lot more at ease if I knew for sure. 

It did not take long to get our yo-yos set up. Many of the trees had low lying but sturdy branches to which we could tie the fishing contraptions. Now with these set, we needed to come back approximately once an hour to remove anything we caught and rebait the hooks. During the wait times Brad and I spent either top fishing for bass or sank our hooks low for catfish. 

It was so nice being out here all alone. It was so peaceful and quiet; I was satisfied with the fact no one else was out here. My best friend and I sat quietly in the boat with our bait in the water listening to all the wonderful songs nature had to sing for us. The sounds of the birds and insects made me feel calm and serene. Occasionally we would hear fish nipping at the surface, or turtles jumping off a log when something startled them. 

Top fishing was not doing us a lot of good in the spot we chose, but we did manage to catch eight catfish. Each time we caught a fish, we tossed it into a cooler filled about two-thirds of the way full of ice. We would dig away some ice to make room for the new fish, toss it in and cover it back up with ice again. 

Our yo-yos did surprisingly well for the day. We generally found them to work better at night and when it was cold, but we figured we would try them anyway. We pulled nine white perch out of the lake before we finally decided to head back to our camp and get off the water for a while. Before leaving, we made sure all of the yo-yos were tripped so they did not catch anything after we left. Without coming out to check them regularly, some fish might suffocate before we got around to coming back. 

As we cleaned our new catch, Brad and I discussed whether we would like to get back out on the lake to do some more fishing before the sun set, or should we rest up and go out for some night fishing. We would be heading home by dark tomorrow, so we figured if we were going to do any night fishing, it was going to have to be tonight. 

Brad fried us up some more fish as I took the remainder of the fillets, rolled them in wax paper and packed them in a clean cooler filled with unused ice. We always kept one cooler for no other reason than to store our catch once we cleaned it. That way the meat stayed fresh and uncontaminated. 

We went ahead and swapped out what gear we needed in the boat to go from day to night fishing. Getting everything we needed in the boat, then doublechecking to make sure we had what we needed, Brad and I each retired to our respective tents to grab a few hours of sleep before we set out on the lake tonight. 

There was still a good hour of sunlight left when I woke up from my nap. Going over to our beverage cooler, I popped myself open a beer before waking Brad. The ice-cold brew tasted amazing after waking up in that sauna of a tent. Even with the flaps open, I was still sweating. 

Guzzling the rest of my beer, I grabbed the drink cooler, Brad grabbed the cooler for the fish we caught, and we headed down the natural ramp to our boat. By the time we cast off from shore, it was almost completely dark. We scouted a few places earlier for where we might want to fish tonight, so we headed to the one we thought would give us the best haul. 

The insects were loud enough to be noticeable earlier, but I really loved to listen to the insects at night. In addition to the insects, frogs of all sorts were out in the night croaking, ribbeting and singing their individual nocturnal songs. Every so often it all came together and for a moment they all sang in harmony, and it sounded like the angels singing. 

I did not know why, but the sounds of nature always made me feel such at peace. There was no doubt that was why I loved my and Brad’s fishing trips. It gave us time to be away from all the stresses of normal life where we could enjoy ourselves and forget about everything else for a few days. 

I started out the night fishing the bottom for catfish, but after catching three of them I decided to switch. Instead of bottom fishing, I switched to fishing with a lure. The moon was out bright tonight, so the twinkling of a spinning lure moving through the water ought to land me at least a bass or two. 

Brad started out aiming for the smaller fish. He caught two dozen brim in the first hour alone. Deciding we had enough of those for now, he went to fishing a little deeper with a larger hook in hopes of catching more white perch. 

In slightly under two more hours, I added three largemouth bass and Brad added six more perch. It astounded me that there were not any other fishermen out here on this lake. My best friend and I were doing great, so it appeared to me this must be a closely guarded secret. Brad never said anything about his friend telling us not to tell anyone else about this place, but he may have simply forgotten to mention it. 

I was changing the lure on my line for a hook to go back to catfishing, and Brad already had his line in the water when we heard that strange, creepy noise again. This time it sounded like it was coming from the top of an eight-foot cliff that made up the boundary of this section of the lake. 

This time, being out on the water, we were able to hear the sounds much more clearly. It was a guttural, throaty, goat-like cackle, and there were more than just a few of them. Both of us quietly reeled in our lines, gently set down our poles and removed our firearms from our hips. 

I made a soft hiss to get Brad’s attention, then I indicated to him I was going to start paddling us away from this area. We were only fishing ten feet away from the water’s edge. Whatever was making that noise was right above us, and that potentially put us in an extremely vulnerable position. Brad took a seat as I moved us away so he would not fall into the water, but he kept his pistol held firmly in both hands. 

Paddling as quietly as I possibly could, I moved us sixty feet or so from the short cliff. Taking care to make as little noise as possible, I told Brad I was going to crank the motor and get us out of here. It would be a lot of noise, but there was no way we were going to quietly paddle our way back to our camp in any less than a few hours. 

My friend agreed with me, so once we got a little farther away, I started yanking the cord trying to get the motor started. After I cranked it five times without it starting, I really began to worry. Luckily on my sixth attempt, the motor started roaring. We heard eerily high pitch screaming coming from the top of the rocks we just left, and then in a second it was gone. I believed the loud sound of the boat motor on the water scared away whatever was up there. 

Brad now sat in the front of the boat with a spotlight to watch for any obstacles that might be floating in the water. Both of us had our firearms holstered since we needed to be able to use our hands for other things. I never thought to turn on the nighttime running lights, but I did not suppose it really mattered anyway. There was no one else out here on this lake. 

It felt like it took us twice as long to get back to camp as it did to get to the fishing spot, and we were moving much faster than we were earlier. Images of all sorts of nasty creatures ran through my head as I pondered what it was up on that cliff making those strange cackling sounds. I did not know if those were the same ones we heard near our camp, or if there were multiple groups of them roaming the forest. 

When we reached the shore where we set up our camp, I was not thinking, and I did not raise the motor soon enough. It hit the bottom hard and sheared the pin that kept the prop in place. Once Brad pulled the front of the boat onto land, I jumped out of the back of the boat to retrieve the prop from where it laid in the bottom of the shallow water. 

I examined the boat’s motor and there appeared to be no damage other than a few scrapes and the stripped pin. We should easily be able to rig something up using any number of items from our list of fishing equipment. Brad waited until I was out of the water and we both climbed the steep hill as fast as we could. 

I noticed immediately and pointed out to Brad that something got into our coolers where we were storing the fish. They were opened, but not overturned. Any wild animal would open the cooler by turning it over on its side, but something opened the lids and left them open. 

It was obvious from looking around that whatever took the fish from the ice filled coolers also rummaged around our camp before leaving. As quickly as we could, Brad and I started packing up and bringing our things down by the boat. He suggested we take the most expensive things first, and I had to agree with him. It took two trips to get everything out here, and we did not want to have to come back for more of our things once we left. 

All the while we did this, we both found several items that should serve well as a pin to hold the prop in place until we could get back to the truck. I worked on using several pieces of thick copper wire as a makeshift pin to keep the blades and motor connected hopefully at least as long as it took us to get back to where we parked the day before. Once this task was complete, I went back up the hill to help Brad with the last of our things. 

I arrived to what remained of our camp to find Brad standing motionless. I could see the terror on his face as he stared at something concealed behind my tent. From my position I could not see what it was, and I did not want to get any closer to find out one way or another. I could not and would not abandon my friend though, and my mind raced as I tried to figure out what to do. 

Finally, I drew my pistol from my side and slowly started inching my way toward my friend. I wished he would give me some indication of what to do, but his gaze was fixed on something outside my view. My knee popped and a fraction of a second later I heard those high-pitched screams. Those things did not see Brad standing there until they heard the crack of my bum knee. 

I saw the abominations as they fled from our presence. The creatures were small, only a few feet tall, and ran on their hind legs. They looked like goats, like little goats that walked in the upright position. Black fur surrounded their eyes which blended straight into their thick eyebrows. They looked like a lot of pictures of the devil I saw during the course of my life. 

Terrified beyond imagination, I fired off three shots from my pistol without even thinking about it. I struck one of the creatures and brought it down, but the rest of them got away. As I stood there in a state of shock, Brad began calling my name. He had to call out to me several times before I finally noticed him. 

He was saying we had to go after them. I told him there was no way I was chasing those little creatures anywhere, especially into a dark forest. I said we should get back to the truck and go, just get out of here now. That was when Brad informed me that unfortunately, one of the creatures ran off carrying his fanny pack, which held among other things the keys to the truck. 

My stomach churned at the thought of hunting those things down, but if we had to, we had to. I reloaded my pistol and grabbed the biggest flashlight we had. Brad put a banded light on his head and carried another flashlight in his hand. Armed with guns and flashlights, we started down the hill leading through the woods in the direction we saw the creatures flee. 

Before we left our camp, I took a closer look at the thing I shot. It almost had a human-like quality to it. Instead of feet or hooves, it had three hoof-like toes on each foot about the thickness of a man’s pinky finger. Short white fir covered its lower body and back. Its arms and hands were like those of a human child with the addition of being covered in a fine, white, felt-like fur. The face was like that of a small goat except that it had no horns on its head. 

Brad sternly told me to get moving. We could not let them get too far with our keys or we would never get them back. Reluctantly following him, we ventured deeper into the forest. The ground was rough and rocky for the most part, and we had to be careful so as not to trip or lose our balance and fall. I really did not think there was any hope of getting back our keys, but I would help my friend try. 

Those little creatures moved fast, so if they kept on going after leaving our sight, they would be long gone by now. The only hope we had of getting the keys to the truck back was if they only ran a short way and then hid. It was like trying to rabbit hunt in the dark using a pistol while terrified out of our minds. 

We searched the forest for fifteen minutes when we heard something that made our bones chill. It was like a loud baying scream, like the sound of a tortured soul. This did not really sound like the small creatures we encountered. Whatever made this noise sounded much larger than those things. 

That was it. I was done trying to find the keys we were certain never to find. I told Brad I was going back to the boat, keys or no keys. We could at least take the boat back to the road and walk from there. Searching the forest for his fanny-pack was a futile endeavor. I think that baying scream scared Brad as much as it did me, because he afforded me no opposition on the matter. 

We were about half-way back when we heard something coming through the brush. It was moving quickly and would be on us soon. Close to us was a rock formation primarily consisting of three large slabs. It appeared that underneath the slabs was sufficient room for Brad and me to hide. We managed to get ourselves well-hidden before the beasts arrived. We could not see much of them because of our positioning, but we did get a good look at their feet. The feet were the same as the one I shot and killed, except these were much larger and more developed. 

Moments later we again heard that baying scream, but this time it was joined by the cries of the others. That was when I realized what I did. Those creatures rummaging through our camp and the ones making all the noise on the cliff, they were just children playing. We were so terrified of the unknown, we never stopped to consider anything. I shot and killed a small child in cold blood, then I looked at it like it was a dead rat. 

I was at a complete loss of what to do. All I could think about what the fact that I murdered a child, an innocent child, all because I was afraid of what I thought it was. Now it looked like these beings were gathering together to hunt us down. If that was indeed the case, I would not let Brad suffer for my sins. 

I could not say how long we stayed hidden under that slab of rock. I had on my watch, but I had not looked at it since we were out on the boat fishing. I could see what time it was now, but I had no clue what time it was when we hid. Everything remained quiet, and we saw no more feet passing by, so we decided to come out of our hiding places and start trying to get out of here. 

Going back to our camp was not an option. If those creatures had any sense, they would leave some of their people waiting at the camp for us to return. Instead, we decided to make our way to a narrow part of the lake and swim over to the other side from there. That would put us close to the truck. Then we could smash the window of the truck and use the navigation service to send out the authorities. 

Our camp was to the north, the goat beings came from the south, and we started off to the west. Brad and I tried the best we could to refrain from making any noise as we made our trek in the darkness. Obviously, we could not use our flashlights. Those would just let those creatures hunting us know exactly where we were. We were just going to have to travel by moonlight alone. 

This was not an easy task by any means. The moon was out bright, and the pine trees in this area did not provide as much canopy cover as hardwood trees, but it was still very difficult to see where we were going. The semi-rocky ground presented many opportunities to trip on a stone jutting from the ground and fall. I was sure those beings would have a heightened sense of hearing, so remaining quiet was essential to our survival. 

When I heard a horn sound not too far behind us, I was sure we were spotted. Those things wanted revenge for me killing one of their children, and I could not blame them for that. If someone shot my child in cold blood, I would take justice out on them myself. Brad had nothing to do with that child’s death, and I could not let him suffer for my ignorance and fear. 

Suddenly I cried out in pain and fell to the ground. Brad stopped to help me, but my leg was broken. I was not going anywhere. Brad insisted he could help me along, but I was not going to let him get caught because of me. I insisted he think of his wife and kids. I was not going to make it out of here alive, and there was no point in the both of us dying. 

My friend did not want to abandon me, but he knew the reality of the situation just as much as I did. There was no way he could outrun these things supporting me with a useless leg. Tears ran from his eyes the final time I told him to go, get away from here and get back to his family. He threw his arms around me and hugged me tight. We were best friends since grade school. We never did anything without the other one. Now he had to go and leave me here to die to save his own life. 

Finally, Brad turned and continued running toward the thinnest section of the lake. Once I was sure he was gone, I stood up and began walking back toward the sound of the horn. The only hope Brad had of getting away was if these creatures got what they wanted, so I had to make him think he had no choice but to leave me behind. 

Several of the goat-men emerged from the darkness from all directions. Very slowly and with the tips of my fingers, I dropped the shells from my gun. I hung my head in shame as I stretched my arms out wide, holding the butt of my pistol with the tips of my index finger and thumb. 

One of them grabbed my firearm from me from behind, then I felt them seize both of my arms. The creature who was standing directly in front of me, staring at me as the others took hold of me began walking toward me as it withdrew a large bone knife from its scabbard. There was no doubt in my mind this was the father of that poor child I murdered. Even though it was not human, I could still see the pain and anger in its face. 

I cried out in agony as I was struck behind the knees with a wooden rod. No doubt my legs really were broken now. The creature in front of me grabbed my hair and forced me to look it in its eyes. It raised its polished blade high in the air, and just before he brought it down, I told him through teary eyes, “I am so sorry. I am a father too. We didn’t know.” 

Copyright © 2023

Another Statue

Word Count: 6,006

We had several days of unrelenting heavy snow here in the northern region of the mountains during the past few weeks. Today, even though the temperature was still extremely frigid, it was beautiful and sunny. I was cooped up in the house alone for more than a week, and I felt like I was about to go absolutely stir crazy. 

The only road leading from my house to town was closed, as were many of the roads beyond that. I was unable to go to work, the grocery store or anywhere. Fortunately, I stocked up on food and supplies when I initially heard some bad weather may be pushing its way into the region. 

The only times I went outside during this extended storm were to shovel off my back porch and around the garage door. If I did not shovel regularly, I would not be able to get out of the house once the snow finally ended. Even the phone lines were down so I could not call anyone. I was up here all by myself. 

I felt blessed being given a nice day like it was today, so I decided I would get out my snowmobile and check out the surrounding countryside. I wondered if the whole region got hit with as much snow as what fell on my house. After getting dressed in the appropriate attire for this type of outing, I headed to the garage. First checking to make sure the gas tank was good and full; I opened the garage door before turning on the engine. 

As I allowed it about ten minutes to warm up, I checked all of my supplies to make sure they were all there. I had my tent, emergency mylar sleeping bags, hand warmers, a flare gun and three flares, a heated thermos, a first aid kit and various other supplies. Confident I had everything I might need, I climbed aboard and rode up a snow ramp I made from my driveway surface to the top of the heavily fallen snow. There must have been at least three to four feet of new snow in most places. 

I knew all the land to the south-east, but I never took the time yet to explore the wilderness to the north. I decided since today was my first day out of the house in almost a week, I would go check out the partially forested areas I had yet to see. The southern area was mostly just farms not worthy of the time it would take to explore. 

With work, and the long commute to and from, I did not have a lot of time to do much exploring since I inherited the house from an uncle last spring. It is presumed he went out on his ATV and some sort of accident befell him during this outing. His ATV and some climbing gear seemed to be the only things missing from the house after his disappearance. Search and rescue found some of his belongings, but never did find him. The final conclusion was wild animals got to his body before the recovery team could. 

I never knew my uncle personally. I grew up in the south, and probably only saw him twice in my life. That was when I was very little. I could scarcely remember what he looked like, and I was sure most of those vague memories of his face were from photographs my grandmother used to show me. 

He and my father became rather wealthy together prospecting in precious metals. My father relocated with my pregnant mother to the city where I was born and raised. My uncle, who had no family of his own, moved way out here where he lived the rest of his life all by himself. He left me an amazing two-story log house and a lot of land, but it was extremely lonely up here. 

Becoming aware I was standing there staring off into the distance, I shook my head and tried to clear my thoughts. I did not want to dwell on those emotional issues today. Today I planned to enjoy this day of sunshine and no strong winds. 

Turning the throttle, I was quickly on my way. The wind was extremely cold on my face, but the parka I was wearing was amazingly efficient. I could not imagine what the wind, both from the harsh weather and from the wind created by the moving vehicle, would do to exposed skin in this extreme cold. 

As I approached a clearing in between two large, pine forest patches I turned back to look at my new rustically luxurious home. It really was a beautiful house, and the location was great for someone who wants solitude. I had no real friends when I was a little kid, and I would not say anyone I knew today was a friend. I guess by nature I am a lonely creature like my uncle. 

I could not cruise at the fast pace I would like to since I was not yet sufficiently familiar with the terrain. If I was moving along too hastily, my reaction time would be reduced. If my reaction time was reduced, I may very well run into a rock buried in the snow or a fallen tree trunk that would halt my vehicle underneath me instantly.  

This was the top of a mountain, but one would not know that from seeing a small section. The mountain top was very wide and relatively flat. Coming from the southeast, the climb up the mountain was so gradual, one would hardly notice the incline. This way was obviously hillier and steeper, and this side of the mountain ended with a sheer cliff face. I never saw the cliff from the top, but I do remember seeing the massive stone precipice once from down in the valley when I was very little. 

Stopping for a moment while I decided on which way to proceed, I turned off the motor so as not to waste fuel. Choosing a point off in the distance, I got a bearing on my direction with my compass. I wanted to make sure I got a good measurement on my direction so in the unlikelihood I got lost, I could find my way back with minimal difficulty. 

I was startled at first but was in something of a state of awe when I saw a large herd of white-tailed deer crossing from one forest patch to the other. I never saw that many deer so up close like this; it was really quite a majestic thing to see. By my best estimate, I would say there were probably two dozen of them. 

Several had antlers, but most of them did not. The largest of the males and no doubt the leader of the herd had twelve points at least. I was really glad I chose this route. Perhaps nature would reveal some more of herself to me on this outing.  

My camera was packed on the back of my snowmobile, so I was unable to get a photo of the beautiful sight. I could reach it without getting off my vehicle, but I knew any motion would probably send the herd running. I waited until most of them passed before trying to retrieve my camera from behind me. Sure enough, that movement was enough to startle them, and they ran off in an instant. Sticking the camera in one of my pockets, I wanted to make sure I did not miss another photo opportunity like that again. 

Soon after that, the ground started to become much rockier and tree filled than the terrain closer to home. Even with the snow as deep as it was, rocks and boulders still stood high above the snowline. I probably should have turned back at that point, but I wanted to do a little more exploring. 

Moving even slower than before, I did my best to watch for any obscured obstacles in front of me. My goal was to get to that cliff face today. How far away it was exactly I did not know, but I did not think it could be too incredibly far. 

The endless white snow played an optical trick on me. I thought I was simply rounding the top of a hill in between two rock formations, but instead I found myself careening over the edge of a thirty-foot-high cliff. Everything suddenly seemed to go in slow motion for the next few seconds. The snowmobile was falling straight down in a nosedive. I was in a temporary state of shock as I watched the ground approaching. My instincts obviously kicked in because I pushed myself away from the snowmobile as hard as I could, so we did not end up landing in the same place. 

That quick reaction saved my life. The snowmobile hit the ground and shattered into a million pieces. I landed hard, but the deep snow did a lot to help break my fall. When I stood up, I was standing in a two feet deep impression shaped like me. My body was going to hurt, but I did not think I had any serious injuries. I wished I could say the same thing about my transportation. It was never again going to move under its own power. 

It looked like my pack of supplies remained intact. I felt a sense of relief when I checked the back of the wreckage and found the stuff in my pack seemed to be just fine. If I got stuck out here in the wilderness tonight, I would have a warm tent and warm water to drink. Digging out my compass, I got a bearing on the direction to my house. 

I was going to have to find a way to go around this cliff. I was not a skilled climber at all, and my thick clothing was not conducive for scaling stone. Without any climbing gear I was not even going to chance it. I would rather face the weather than try to climb the face of that cliff, even if it was much shorter than the one I originally sought. 

Keeping the three-story cliff on my left side, I began to walk. Hopefully I could find a short enough section that would allow me to climb back up to the hilly surface above. I did have a nylon rope in my pack, but I had no idea how to use it for climbing. It seemed finding a location easy enough that I could ascend was really my only option. 

I had a few hours until the sun began to set, and I traveled a fair distance on the snowmobile to end up here. Now I really wished I stayed inside today. I was getting cabin fever, so I wanted to get out for a bit. Now making it back home before dark was going to be difficult if not impossible. 

The temperature was well below freezing, but my clothing was very warm and insulating. I had heavy thermals on, my snow suit and parka on over that. Between those and my own natural body heat from the physical exertion of hiking through this snow my body stayed warm. When evening came, followed by darkness the temperature was going to drop drastically. I was going to have to wait to see how well my clothes helped me at night. 

I began to wonder if I should set up my tent and shelter down until morning. Before I did that, I tried walking a bit further looking for a way back up the cliff. Before it started getting dark, I erected my tent and filled my heated thermos with snow. I did not want to wait until I could not see before preparing to stay put for the night. 

I never used a mylar sleeping bag before. I saw them on the shelf at the store and thought they would be good to have in my emergency pack. It was supposed to reflect eighty percent of the body heat back in toward the occupant. Hopefully it really worked as advertised. If not, I may freeze to death before the night was at an end. 

The wind blew hard all night long, but my short tent held firmly in place. The canvass flapped and rattled the entire time, making it virtually impossible to get any sleep. I was happily surprised the mylar sleeping bag really did do a spectacular job of keeping me nice and warm. 

I did not notice the snow that covered my tent halfway to the top until I woke up the next morning. What time it was exactly I did not know, but I did know it was very early in the morning. The sun could not be more than an hour above the horizon. I tried to stuff my mylar sleeping bag back into its original carrier but found that to be an impossible task. I rolled it up as best I could before stuffing it into my pack. Unzipping the tent, I began to dig my way out to the surface. 

It did not take long to get out of my tent and get it stashed away as well. The canvass shelter was small and compacted well making it easy to store. I drank the water I had in my heated thermos and refilled it with some of the freshly fallen snow. That would be my water for drinking later. I returned that to my pack, threw it over my shoulder and resumed walking along the low cliff face. 

Following the cliff for several miles, I eventually found what I needed. An old rockslide created a climbable ramp I could use to get back to the level above me. I was really beginning to worry that I would not find a way back up there, and without getting back to the top of the cliff, I was not going to find a way home. 

Climbing the rockslide was not as easy as I initially anticipated. The blowing snow last night coated the rigid stones with a slick layer of white ice. Several times my feet slipped out from under me, but I was able to catch my balance before I was sent plummeting down the heap of rocks. With the top only a few feet away, I grabbed onto an exposed root to help pull myself up the rest of the way. I should have been more cautious because the root I gripped was not attached to anything but loose dirt. The dead root came free from the snowy ground, and I lost my balance, falling to my right. 

Agony sent sparks through my eyes as my right foot caught in a space between two large rocks. My curses echoed through the snowy terrain as I tried to twist my body enough to free my overstretched ankle. It did not take much effort to free my foot once I adequately turned myself over, but the damage was already done. I did not think I broke anything, but I held no doubts that I severely sprained it. 

How was I going to make it back all that way with one bad foot? Was I going to die out here now? 

I managed to get myself rolled over to my left side and tossed my pack up to the level ground only feet away from me. Using my arms and my one good leg, I slowly pulled myself the rest of the way up the rockslide. My painfully injured ankle bumped and scraped against the cold stones, and the jagged edges dug into my ribs and hip. It was extremely painful, but eventually I got my entire body off the rockslide and onto the level above. 

Rolling over onto my back, I removed one of my gloves and felt around my snow suit. I was sure I tore it on the rocks, but the padded clothing held up much better than I expected. That was a great relief. I figured my chances of survival would drop dramatically if I ripped holes in my protective clothing. Things were bad enough already with my demolished snowmobile and a sprained ankle. I did not need any more misfortune to pile up onto my current problems. 

I did not even bother with trying to stand. As intensely as my ankle throbbed, I knew there was no way my weight was going to be able to remain supported on it. I scanned around and thought for a few minutes considering what possibilities I had. There was a tree line perhaps fifty yards or so away from me, and the ground sloped downward in that direction. There I hoped I could find a broken limb big enough to utilize as a make-shift crutch. 

Rummaging through my pack, I removed the used mylar sleeping bag and spread it out on the ground. It took me a few minutes, but I finally managed to get my whole body on it while keeping it spread smooth on the snow. I put my pack on the sleeping bag with me, and using two tent spikes I slowly pulled my way over the snowy ground. With the downward slope, and the slipperiness of the mylar on top of the snow, it only took me about thirty minutes to reach the tree line. 

I rolled off the mylar bag and positioned myself on my hands and knees. Being very careful to keep my injured foot off the ground, I crawled into the cluster of leafless trees in search of a crutch. I found several branches that seemed about the right size, but their crooked shapes would make balancing difficult. 

I was getting really worried about the true direness of my predicament. Several hours already passed since sunrise, and I made it less than a hundred yards from the cliff’s edge. Unless I could find a way to speed up my progress, I would probably freeze to death out here if I did not starve first. Personally, I would have rather died in the snowmobile crash than to freeze to death. 

Trying to keep myself from going into a panic, I continued searching for something to help me walk. Thirty minutes further into my search I finally found a long sturdy limb with a V-shaped branch at one end. Although not as good as store bought crutches, the makeshift implement served its purpose well. 

I now found myself faced with another problem. If the snow was deep at all, the butt end of my crutch and my left leg could easily puncture right through the surface. I had to stay in some of the rockier areas where the snow was shallow, and the rough ground the rocks provided was difficult to navigate with one foot out of commission. 

As I rounded a large outcropping, I almost fell to my back. I very abruptly found myself walking right up on somebody standing inside a rock fissure. After the initial shock of seeing someone out here wore off, I called out to the person. I was so glad I found someone out here, even if they were trespassing on my land. He probably hid in the rocks when he saw me coming. 

My brief sense of relief quickly faded when I noticed the person was not moving. Something did not look right about this at all. A feeling of dread made my stomach churn as I looked upon the figure in front of me. I took a few steps toward it so I could get a better look at it. 

Briefly I thought it might be a statue of some sort, but the bits and pieces of wind torn clothing on it made me think otherwise. The flesh was black and dry from the exposure to the freezing air with a papery texture that reminded me of a wasp nest. The face of the ice mummy was contorted and its mouth wide open as if to scream. The arms appeared to be trying to swat something away, something that terrified this man immensely. 

I would expect to find a body in this deteriorated condition out in this frozen region, but I would expect to find it on the ground. It made my body run cold with nearly crippling fear to think of how someone could die and remain standing long enough to dry into a frozen desiccated mummy like this. Not even the negative temperatures and high winds could cause a man to freeze while standing. 

As quickly as I possibly could, I put some distance between me and that hideous standing corpse. Suddenly I began to feel an unshakable sense of paranoia, like the very rocks and trees were watching me, stalking me. I nearly fell several times as I repeatedly turned back to make sure that dried up horrific thing was not following me. 

Absolute fear and adrenalin helped numb the pain in my foot allowing me to pick up the pace a bit. I was still hampered by my injury, but the only thought on my mind was getting away from that abhorrent corpse statue. I truly hoped getting away would mean I was back at home by dark. Since I varied my speed so much and fooled around on my snowmobile coming out here, I really had only a vague idea of how far away I was from my nice warm house. 

I began to tremble, not from the cold but from the terror filling my heart and mind as I watched the sun drop slowly to the horizon. I was not back to anything I recognized yet, and I was going to end up caught out here at least one more night. The idea of being out here in the wilderness with that dried up mummy, and even worse whatever did that to him, welled up terror in me like I never knew. 

I continued on until the sun began dipping below the horizon line. I quickly looked for a place to set up my tent. I did not know where would be the safest and where would be the most perilous to sleep. I eventually chose a small cluster of trees next to a large boulder for the concealment it provided. 

Setting up my tent did not take very long, but I could not use the sleeping bag I used last night. Since I was using it as a sled of sorts, it was wet with snow melted by the friction. That wet would become ice in the cold night air, so I had to get out my back up bag. 

Using sticks and snow, I tried to conceal my tent as best as I could. I was no survivalist, and by the time I was done with my camouflage attempt, I think my tent was more obvious than before I tried hiding it. I hoped it would look natural enough to fool anything looking for me, and I propped some sticks along the tent. Maybe that was just me being paranoid, but I was sure there was something out there watching me. 

Climbing into my little tent and into the mylar sleeping bag, I zipped up the front flaps and pulled my knees as far as I could to my chest. My ankle throbbed intensely, and I was terrified beyond imagination. I did not think there was any possible way I was going to sleep tonight. I was wrong about that. Between the horror I experienced, the feeling of lurking doom, the physical exertion and lack of food for more than a day, I actually fell asleep very quickly. 

I awoke and it was still dark outside. I stayed hidden in my tent until I saw the light of the morning sun hit the side of this flimsy shelter. I could not hear anything, but I was sure there was something moving around in the darkness outside my tent. I remained as quiet as possible, but in my crippling dread of what was out there stalking me my breaths sounded to me like the roar of a lion. 

There was no snow last night, so at least I did not have to dig myself out this time. I got my things gathered up and packed, then I was back on my way as quickly as I could. The skin-chilling sensation of having an unseen observer lurking about remained with me. 

Glancing all around me for anything out of the normal as I continued to limp my way back home, I scanned the area for any signs of movement. Not knowing what I was looking for, I could not shake the feeling something was watching me. There was something stalking me; I just knew it. There was some sinister creature, some malevolent force that wanted to turn me into one of those frozen statues. I sensed its horrible presence like I sensed the cold air. 

I tried to remain near the tree line when I could. I did not care for being out in the wide open. Whether the trees provided me with any coverage, with any protection, I did not know. I did know being in a clearing provided me with no coverage at all as well as making it difficult for me to utilize my makeshift crutch in the deeper snow. This was best to try to keep myself as hidden as possible. If I pushed myself hard, I could be back home by the end of the day. 

I momentarily felt better about my situation when I saw a small herd of deer grazing among the trees in a small patch of forest. If something was skulking around, the deer would certainly be spooked. That feeling quickly passed once I realized the deer were not moving. They were standing as still as, well as still as statues. I could not see if they were in the same condition as the man I encountered yesterday, and there was no way in hell I was going to get any closer than I already was in an attempt to find out. 

I could not fathom what in this world could possibly do something like this. There could not be any sort of natural creature that could kill in such a manner. If it was not something natural, then it had to be something supernatural. If it truly was something supernatural, I did not think I had any chance of survival. 

I knew I was not too incredibly far from my house, and I pushed myself even harder to get back to its safety and comfort. Feeling no sense of security near the trees anymore, I veered out into an open clearing. At least in the open I might be able to see whatever left that man and those deer nothing but freeze-dried mummies before it got to me. If those deer in the trees were not able to sense this thing though, I probably did not have much hope. Those deer looked like they were still grazing when they died. 

It was getting hard to stick to rockier ground. The snow here was deeper and spread more evenly than the ground I traveled thus far. This made walking with a crutch and injured ankle even more difficult than before. I had to make it over this next hill, then I was quite sure I had a gentle downward slope the rest of the way to my house. If I had to, I could slide on my mylar sleeping bag as I did before. 

Getting up this hill was going to be the most difficult part of my journey. It was much steeper than any incline I encountered so far, and it was deeply packed with snow. As I forced my way through the snow, I found it was as deep as my waist. There was no way I was going to be able to push my way through that much snow. Using my crutch, I began to pack the icy flakes down in order to create a makeshift trail for me to use. 

It seemed to be working. My progress was very slow, but I was making it up the hill. Suddenly I cried out in pain as I lost my balance. My good foot slipped and instinctively I tried to stabilize myself with my injured foot. When I did, both of my legs buckled underneath me, and I was sent rolling back down the hill. I did not think about what I was doing. I threw my arms out in an attempt to halt my fall, which turned out to be a critical mistake. 

By the time I reached the bottom of the hill and the initial onset of confusion subsided, my right shoulder was dislocated, and I was positive I broke one of the bones in my right forearm. The pain was so incredibly intense, I thought for a moment I was going to pass out. What was supposed to be a short outing on my snowmobile turned out to be the worst experience of my life. 

I was laying there in the snow with half of my body disabled. When I fell, my pack came loose and landed approximately thirty feet away from me. I was on the last leg of my journey home, no pun intended, and I was not going to give up on living quite yet. I forgot about my pack. I was almost there, so I did not really need it anymore. Instead, I began crawling on my left side back to the trail I created for myself. 

Tears involuntarily rolled down my cheeks as I thought about the direness of my situation. The salty drops froze almost immediately to my wind burned face. I was so close. I was almost home, and then I was sure I would be safe. I still needed medical attention, but I would still be safe. 

Inch by inch I worked my way back up the hill using the trail I already made. There was no way I was going to give up on living; I enjoyed life way too much to simply throw in the towel. I did the only thing I could and kept driving, kept pushing myself to make it over the ridge. The agony from my injuries was beyond description. I had a broken arm, a dislocated shoulder and a sprained ankle, all of which were on the right side of my body. 

I almost made it back to the point on the hill where I fell and crippled my arm, and I then saw it. God help me, I saw it. My heart pounded in my chest as I stared up at the nameless horror. Not even in the darkest of legends had I ever heard of such a thing as this described. All this time I felt like I was being stalked, being watched, but I never saw anything. Now I understood why. 

The creature, I guess it could be called a creature, had an oblong body about six feet in length and three feet wide. Dozens of one-foot-long multi-jointed legs ending in needle sharp points ran the full length of its body. The monster was almost completely transparent, and it appeared to be crystalline in nature. A pattern of hexagonal scales or facets, I could not say for certain which one, covered its insect-like body.  

Although it was flying, it had no wings that I could see. It appeared to hover in place, seeming to disappear from one place and reappear only feet away every few seconds. I screamed as I desperately tried to pull myself the rest of the way up this snow-covered hill. I pleaded to God for help, but none came. The thing seemed almost amused with my anguished struggle to get up this snow-packed hill, as it darted back and forth for several minutes while I tried to pull my broken body through the three-feet deep snow. 

Suddenly it began to make a noise. It began with a low hum, but it quickly became a deafening strum that caused the surface snow to dance. It almost sounded like thousands of crystal chandeliers crashing to a cement floor simultaneously. Bawling as I tried in vain to climb the hill with half of my body broken, I rolled over onto my back to look at the thing. 

I really believed the horror was enjoying itself playing with me like a cat with a mouse. I did not even know if the unnatural thing understood the concept of pain as I did. What its true intentions were was anyone’s guess, but I believed with everything in me that it was playing with me. It was taunting me, mocking my agony and having fun in the process. 

I begged and pleaded for it to please go away and leave me alone, but I do not think it understood me. As far as I knew, it had no sense of hearing. This thing, this horrific crystalline beast was so alien, I doubt very seriously it had the same five senses I had. I cried and hoped it would understand my fear and leave me alone. Whether or not it reacted to the terror it was putting me through, I could not say. 

The icy demon curled its legs to its side, sank down to hover only a few feet above me, and opened an aperture in its body. I could see the dark purple flesh leading to the monster’s gullet. It was not truly transparent because I was able to see its disgusting insides. Instead, it somehow seemed to move light around itself to keep itself hidden. 

I felt a strange tingling for a fraction of a second, then a burning pain coursed through my entire body. This unnatural monster began drawing the warm fluids out of my body, which tore through my clothing as it was extracted from my flesh. My individual cells ruptured as the unholy terror pulled my bodily fluids out of me like a mist into what might be called a mouth. I thought I was in pain before with my broken and bruised limbs, but that was very minor to the agony I now suffered. It only lasted for a minute, but it might as well be eternity. 

My once living pink skin was now papery and gray. My whole form was now the same as that of the ice mummy I encountered nestled in the crevasse yesterday. My body was deceased and rigid, yet inside it somehow my mind remained alive. I could still see and hear, although I could no longer move my eyes. It did not even have the decency to kill me. The unholy thing fed off the fluid in my body but left me frozen like this forever.  

Any question regarding its intent or motivation was made clear. This horrific thing was going to leave me stuck in my own dead body. I did not think there could be anything more torturous than spending eternity trapped in your own petrified corpse. The flying monster was truly a wicked and evil thing from another time or another place. 

The virtually invisible demon picked my mummified corpse up and carried me far into the wilderness. I could see the snow covered, rocky landscape passing underneath me as well as the wind roaring through my ears. I even felt the creature’s legs gripping onto my body as it carried me away. 

If someone were to come looking for me, they would not go far if they found my body where I was close to my home, so the thing moved me to make me harder to find. Like it did with the ice mummy I found yesterday, the malicious creature set me down in a clearing in the center of a cluster of large rocks where I would spend all the time until the world ends as another statue. 

Copyright © 2023

Hope was Lost

Word Count: 7,092

Hacking away with my freshly sharpened axe, chopping firewood to keep our house bearable through the icy cold winter, I watched the first snowflakes of the year trickle softly down from the cloud covered sky. It was early in the year for the picturesque ice crystals to be blanketing the ground, but not incredibly so. Normally we would have a few more weeks before the snow started to fall, so it was not shocking to see it a little sooner than normal. 

What remained a light snowfall for several hours turned heavy without any warning. People in our small widespread town scrambled to get their things inside and their livestock into barns. This town had a population somewhere in the neighborhood of five hundred people. Those who had nothing with which to attend helped others who did. Everyone helped until all the livestock was inside. 

As she stood in the doorway, Momma hollered at me to stop splitting the wood and retrieve a few loads of water in case our well pump froze. I lugged in four loads of two buckets, so eight buckets of water before she told me that was enough. I was relieved to hear that because, when I was pumping the water, I got it all over my hands and the cuffs of my coat. My fingers were progressing from throbbing pain to frozen numbness. I barely managed to carry in those last two pails. 

I crossed the room to the fireplace to warm my hands, but there was no time for sitting. Momma told me to add some wood to the pipe stove so she could begin preparing dinner. I was not allowed to take from what was already inside, so I had to go back out into the windy cold to retrieve more wood. 

I carried in as much as I could, which was about three times as much as it took to cook a meal. I always tried to bring in as much as I could regardless of how much we needed. While I was at it, I decided to go ahead and replenish the stacks beside both the fireplace and the stove. 

When I finished with that, I jogged over to the old widow lady’s house where my father was helping prepare her for the snow. She was a very nice old woman, and I was more than happy to go lend her a hand. Her only child was a daughter, and she married and moved away. Daddy was finishing up with getting her horses into the stables when I arrived. Basically, all that was left was to carry in some firewood for her. Daddy pitched in with the firewood as soon as he finished with the horses, and we got the job done very quickly. 

We made sure Widow Harper had everything she needed before we left. Depending on how long the snow continued to fall, it might be a few days before we could get over here and check on her again. The next closest neighbors were a thirty-minute walk away. The two houses in between were abandoned nearly a decade ago when the silver mine ran dry. My family took on watching over the widow woman as our responsibility. 

As my father and I walked back home, the falling snow was so dense it obscured the visibility of our house until we were only twenty-five feet away. I was so happy I went ahead and brought in the firewood. I was done with being outside for the night, unless I needed to use the outhouse, which is never a pleasant task to perform in freezing weather like this. 

I sat by the fireplace helping Daddy clean and reload the guns as Momma finished cooking supper. We shot a couple of rabbits today, which incidentally we were having for supper, so the muskets needed to be maintained. It was a bad idea to not have your guns loaded around here. Wild animals, and some say things much more sinister inhabited the forest that encompassed the homes of what we called a town. 

I was so happy when supper was ready. Momma was a wonderful cook, and I could not wait to eat her meals. She had five mouths to feed, including herself, so she always cooked a lot. My sisters never seemed to eat much, not by my standards anyhow. It did not matter how much Momma cooked, I never left anything over. Most times I had the wooden spoon, using it to scrape the last bit of food out of the pot. 

After dinner, while Momma and my sisters washed the dinner dishes, Daddy and I went out and got some more wood. We did not use much of it yet, but we wanted to make sure we had two full stacks before we went to bed. 

Momma and Daddy had a bed, and my sisters had a bed, but I slept on a down filled mattress on the floor near the fireplace. I didn’t mind it at all. I was closest to the warming glow of the fire, and my heavy goose down blanket and thick quilt kept me cozy and warm. It unofficially became my job to make sure the fire did not burn out during the night, but we were all supposed to check it if we got up for any reason. 

There were gaps in the boards making up the walls of our house, and the cold air seeped in quickly. We tried patching them up with mud during the early part of autumn, but it did not take but a few weeks to crumble and fall once it dried. If the fire burned out on a cold enough night, we could quite possibly freeze to death. 

Daddy woke me up before sunrise to go out hunting for today’s dinner. The snow was almost two feet deep and was still falling. I hoped we would be able to bag us some game quickly, so we did not have to stay out in this hauntingly beautiful weather. 

The moon was still out when we started on our way this morning. I stopped at a blind we placed at the edge of our property, but Daddy went further into the forest. I hoped I could get a couple of rabbits again today. I liked eating them, and the pelts were comfortable and warm when prepared properly. 

Daddy was hoping to get a deer today. He did not say as much, but he brought his long barrel musket and some rope. I could not think of anything else he would use those things for on a cold dark morning like today. 

I sat there patiently, sitting on my hands to keep them warm, as I waited for some unsuspecting prey to cross my path. The sun was starting to rise above the horizon when I heard the sound of a gunshot coming from the direction my father went. I hoped that was a good sound. A decent sized deer would feed us and the old widow woman for several weeks, and the cold weather would keep the meat from going rancid. 

The sun fully broke above the horizon line, which meant about three quarters of an hour passed since I heard the gunshot. I continued to wait for Daddy to appear between the trees deeper in the forest as I stayed hidden behind the hunting blind we made this summer. 

Finally, I saw movement in the forest. It was my father, but he was moving too fast to be pulling a deer. I wondered why he did not reload and hunt for another hour or two, then I noticed the haste with which he approached me. He was running as fast as he could through the trees with his discharged gun in his hand. 

I stood up and was going to yell at him to ask him what was happening. He started waving his hand, motioning for me to run toward our house. He yelled in a whisper for me to go. That was all he would say was “Go, go” as he swiped his left hand toward home. I jumped up with my rifle in hand and ran through the deep snow as fast as I possibly could. Daddy caught up with me and then stayed behind me and to my right. 

When we reached the house, my dad opened the door and shoved me inside. Following me in, he slammed the door shut and put a board across the bars to lock it. He even went around to all the shudders to make sure they were all latched. 

Momma was asking him what was going on, but he was too focused on securing the house to answer. She asked me, but all I could do was hold up my hands and shrug my shoulders in ignorance. When Daddy finished running around the house, Momma grabbed him by the shoulders and demanded he tell her what was happening. This was the first time I got a good look at his face. I never saw such a look of terror on my father’s face as I did this time. 

He almost seemed to be in a daze. Momma shook his shoulders and hollered out his name. This finally snapped him out of whatever spell he was under, and he began looking around the house frantically. Again, my mother asked him what was going on, and this time he finally answered. 

“There-there was something out there,” he said. 

Momma asked him what and he simply shook his head slowly and said, “I don’t know.” 

“What do you mean, you don’t know?” Momma asked. 

Looking more confused now than frightened, Daddy replied “I mean just that. I don’t know what it was. It weren’t no creature God made, that’s for sure.” 

My baby sister started crying at this point, and Momma ran over to her, knelt down and took my sister in her arms. My other sister ran over to them and joined their huddle. Father hastily reloaded his gun and took another short-barreled gun off the wall and handed it to my mom. 

Daddy took two muskets off the wall, tucked one in his belt and handed me the other. I accepted the musket from my dad and tucked it into the section of rope that I use for a belt as he took down a third musket and handed it to my oldest sister. 

I guess Daddy felt better making sure we were all armed, because he did seem to calm down after that. He checked the door one more time, then went over to the dinner table and pulled up a chair. He wiped his flushed face with his handkerchief and finally started giving us more detail on what had him running scared. 

“I’z sittin’ there watching this buck, a big eight pointer, waitin’ for it to come close enough for me to shoot. It’z working its way toward me and then this thang came out of nowhere,” he said. At this point he looked off into the distance and became silent. He remained this way for several moments before he continued. 

“It picked that buck up with one hand, with one hand, and swallowed it whole,” he explained. 

I asked my father what the thing looked like. The look on his face became one of confusion. Shaking his head slowly, he said he did not know. 

Momma told him, “You looked at it didn’t ya? What’d it look like?” 

Daddy almost appeared as if he were about to cry when he said, “I can’t remember what it looked like. I don’t, I don’t think it wants to be remembered.” 

The more he tried to explain, the less about the situation Daddy could remember. Eventually he stopped talking altogether. He sat in his chair at the table staring at the door. 

Mother got my sisters working on one of their puzzles before she resumed cooking breakfast. I sat with my sisters and helped them with their puzzle after hanging my rifle and musket on the wall. We had a lot of the picture assembled when Momma told us to clear the table for breakfast. 

As my father hung his rifle on the wall he said, “It sure is a shame I missed that buck this morning. It’a been nice to get a big hunk of meat like that.” 

“Oh well,” Momma replied. “Maybe you’ll have better luck this evening.” 

We were not expecting this snow to come upon us so soon, so there were a lot of things from the store we still needed. We were almost out of flour and molasses, as well as many other things. Father and I were going to have to borrow ole’ Widow Harper’s wagon and horses to get to town. We always pick up anything of hers waiting at the store and deliver it to her when we returned her wagon. This was the routine we followed ever since old man Harper passed away. 

It was cold, that’s for sure, but it was not as cold as it was this morning when Daddy and I went hunting. The snow really slowed the horses, and it took a lot longer than usual to get to the general store. I guess we really expected it to take us longer, but we still both hoped the horses could pull the wagon through the snow faster than this. 

On the way back Daddy pointed out that it was a shame so many people were moving away from our scattered community. There were three empty houses, the residents either moved away or passed on, and no one ever bought the homes after them. My father told me when I turned sixteen, on my next birthday, I should go and buy the deed for one of those homes. The first one we passed was in the best shape, its owner only passed away last year. The other two were abandoned for nearly a decade. 

Widow Harper was dependent on help from others in town to survive. She was old and frail, and there was not a lot she could do on her own. That was how the people in the town of Hope functioned; everyone pitched in and helped where they could. A person could always count on the help of their neighbors when really needed. 

This time we returned from the store with two bolts of cloth and various sowing supplies. Widow Harper could not do much, but she was still a spectacular seamstress. Every dress my sisters had were created by the hand of the old widow woman. All the clothing I possessed before the age of thirteen was her work as well. When I turned thirteen, my parents bought me a suit and nice shoes to wear to church, but beyond that there was not much that I had to wear that she did not make for me. 

We passed her house on the way to ours, but our homes were not very far apart. Our things were loaded in the wagon on top so we could get all our stuff out before returning Widow Harper’s wagon and delivering her things. My father, mother, oldest sister and I unloaded the wagon together, so it did not take long at all to get our things inside. 

When I got back to the widow’s house, I parked her wagon beside her home where she wanted it, unfastened the horses and led them into the barn. I got back to the wagon to unload Widow Harper’s sewing supplies and other various goods when I saw something that made my blood run colder than the snow on the ground. 

I did not know what it was, but I would never forget the horrible beast. It had to be something from the depths of Hell, because God would not create something so ghastly. It had four insect-like legs spaced equally around its round bulbous body. The horrible creature had two arms on each side of its torso, one human sized set and one gargantuan set, and no head sat atop the thing. Instead, the top of its body contained a large, razor fang filled mouth. 

Blood dripped from its mouth onto its body, and in one of its hands it held the lower half of Widow Harper’s corpse. I grabbed my rifle from the front of the wagon and shot the thing. It let out a tortured moan before leaping into the air and bounding away. 

Without thinking, I ran toward my house as fast as I could make my legs move. With all the snow on the ground, that was not a very good idea. I lost my footing and plunged face first into the ground. The impact did not knock me unconscious, but it did knock the wind out of me. Stunned from the pain, I could not help but lay there on the ground for many seconds before the sparks began to clear from my eyes. 

I picked up my rifle and dusted the snow from my clothing as I continued to walk the rest of the way home. When I walked in the door, Momma asked me what I was shooting at. I had to think about it. I remembered shooting at something, but I could not for the life of me remember what. After thinking about it for a moment, I was quite sure it was a bobcat that was the target at which I fired. I remember something startled me when I was next to the wagon beside the house ole’ Widow Harper left me when she passed away. 

Still a bit unsure of what happened, I told my parents it was a bobcat we thought was killing people’s chickens and other small animals. I don’t think I hit it because it managed to get away very quickly. I must have startled it before I fired my gun because I remembered it being close, too close for me to miss a clean shot like that. 

Over dinner we discussed what we would do with Widow Harper’s personal belongings. She passed away recently and left everything she had to me in her will, but there were bound to be some items, some family heirlooms her daughter may come to retrieve one day. I knew I was going to keep all the furniture, but there were a lot of things for me to sort through before I turned sixteen and moved into the house. Until then we continued to keep the horses in the barn on the far side of the property. 

The next day started out rather warm, so I decided to take the wagon to the general store. I needed to ask the owner to keep a few shipping crates and possibly an empty oat barrel in which I could store the late Widow Harper’s things. I needed to see if I could buy some things on credit to start getting ready to farm the land once spring came back around. Surely, I could hunt enough furs this winter to pay off my debt before I needed to buy seed. 

The sun was shining brightly, and by the time I reached the general store most of the snow on the road was melted. Unfortunately, that meant it was muddy, and I was going to have to clean the horses and wash down the wagon after I returned home. I worked with these horses a lot when they belonged to old lady Harper, so they were very familiar with me. That made the task of washing all the mud off of them much easier since they were at ease around me. 

When I reached the cluster of shops that made the center of the town of Hope, I found there were nearly a dozen wagons parked along the street. Saturday was normally the day most folks tried to come resupply, but I thought the nasty roads would keep people away. I guess I was wrong on that account. That was totally fine by me, as I cannot remember the last adult conversation I had that was not with my parents. 

Several of my friends were hanging around in front of the small saloon that served as a barber shop on Friday and Saturday mornings, so I decided to join them once I took care of my business at the general store. They were having a conversation discussing who would like to purchase what properties to be their homes when they went out on their own. 

I was rather shocked to hear the number of people who moved away or passed on recently. So many properties in fact became available recently, the bank was selling off the deeds for pennies on the dollar. I already had the land on which I would live and farm, so I was the only one who was not trying to devise some honest way of coming up with the down payments so they could acquire some land of their own. 

I began to wonder if I might be able to buy the land next to mine. I did not have any need for the house, although I suppose I could use it for chickens during the cold months of the year. I would have to discuss it with Daddy and see what he thought. He may be interested in trying to buy some more land for himself. The way the value of real property was dropping due to all the vacancies, it would be a bad idea not to try to increase the size of one’s land. 

It was only a few years ago the population of Hope was around five hundred people, but now it dropped to somewhere in the area of three hundred folks still living in these parts. I wondered if the population would continue to decline, or if the empty houses would one day again see families dwelling within. 

I thought about this as I passed by the three abandoned houses on the road before getting to my new house. If the price of the property came down enough, I could possibly expand the boundaries of my land three or even four times over. If I could do that, I would have enough land so that I could hire workers to help me tend the farm. Perhaps I could use the existing houses as quarters for my farmhands. This was probably nothing more than a dream, but it gave me something bigger to wish for. 

It took me several hours to clean the horses, get them in their stalls and fed. The wagon was not as dirty as I thought it would be, so I cleaned around the axels but did not bother to spend the time cleaning the rest of it. Daddy would probably give me an earful if he saw I left it in this condition, but it was my wagon. 

I spent as much of my free time over the next several weeks packing the things of old Widow Harper’s that I was not planning to keep for myself. When I could, I was out in the woods hunting. We could always use the meat, and the furs and hides I traded to the general store to pay off my debt. By the time my sixteenth birthday arrived the next month, my new house was ready to move into. 

Initially, I found the solitude to be very relaxing, but it was not long before solitude became loneliness. Even though my parents and my two younger sisters were no more than a seven-minute walk away, and I still worked with Daddy during the day, being separated and alone in this house took some time to get used to. 

It gave me time to think about what exactly I was going to do with my future. I was sweet on the same girl starting when we met in the first grade, and she was sweet on me. I always thought we would get married when we grew up, but when I was thirteen her family moved away. She never even told me she was leaving; I had to find it out from some of the other kids at school. I suppose the idea of saying goodbye was simply too painful, so she never mentioned she was leaving Hope forever. 

I did not know very many other girls my age who did not already have a boy courting them. The two that always seemed to be available were one very homely girl, and one pretty but deaf girl. No boys ever took much of an interest in either of them. Perhaps it was time I called on one of them to join me for a picnic. 

I was at that age where I had a few years to marry if I wanted to start fathering children and raising a family, so I decided I would ask Mary, the homely girl, to join me for a picnic next time I saw her. She was not a lot to look at, but I did not know how to talk with that sign language and didn’t know if I could learn how. Charlotte could read lips, but I did not know if I could live the rest of my life with someone who could only converse with me if I was looking directly at her. 

Every chance I got during the next few months, I found a reason to go to the center of town. If my folks needed something from the store, I would volunteer to go get it for them all in the hopes I would run into Mary while I was there. If I did not cross her path soon, I would have to go to her house and ask her there. That put me in the position of having to ask her father for his permission to court his daughter, and he was not the most cordial individual one might meet. More times than not he was riding high on his moonshine. 

I really did not want to go through that until I was sure if I was going to ask Mary to be my bride. If we found we were not compatible, there would be no point in going through the formality of asking her father for her hand. If I found that I really did like Mary and thought I could grow to love her, then the conversation with her drunken father would be worth it. 

On the very day I finally decided I would go to Mary’s house, I spotted her with some of the other girls her age sitting around in front of the parlor. I had to come through the center of Hope to get to her father’s land, and to my fortune here she was. I was so relieved to find Mary here, and suddenly a wave of nervousness passed over me. Until now I felt no anxiety about calling on Mary, but I felt an intense fear of rejection when I saw her and the other girls. It dawned on me how serious of a decision I was about to make. 

A lot of people came to the center of town today as it was a Saturday and a nice, cool spring day. The closest place I could find to park my wagon was on the outskirts of the buildings by the blacksmith shop. By the time I got back to the parlor, I saw Mary and the others headed on in their different directions. I jogged up the gradual hill and caught Mary as she was getting on her horse. 

My nerves were so frazzled as I tried to ask Mary to join me for a picnic, all I heard were the bumbling words of a fool. I think she was impressed by my nervousness, because she smiled the cutest smile as I tried but failed miserably to sound confident. I honestly thought she would start laughing at me, but to my elation she said she would be happy to join me. We set a date to meet back here in town next Saturday morning if the weather was nice. As she rode away on her horse, she turned around and gave me another big smile. 

I walked back to my wagon with an unexpected spring in my step. Mary and I were friends for as long as I could remember, but I never really thought of her as a girl. She used to run around and play in the dirt with the boys, so I always saw her as one of the boys. That was why I got so nervous. Mary and I got along and played together since we were both out of diapers. It was a good feeling asking her out for a picnic. 

The next week passed unbearably slowly. My father’s ox broke its leg and had to be put down. I let him use one of my horses to pull his plow, but since the harness was made for an ox it took us a lot of work to get it adjusted for the different beast of burden. We both had to get our gardens tilled and our seed planted soon if we wanted to take advantage of the spring rains. 

I paid my debt through the winter by hunting and trapping. I was ready to put in a bid for the property adjacent to my own, but I needed to have a better idea of how well my crops would yield this year before I got anything else on credit. As it was, I already owed for the seed I bought to sow. I did not need to lose my property over a debt I built and could not dig out from underneath it. I could not really see the bank foreclosing on a house right now with all the vacant ones scattered around town. 

I had Momma fry a chicken for me early Saturday morning. I would buy a loaf of bread from the bakery when I got to the center of town to meet Mary. She was bringing tea, biscuits and her delectable peach cobbler. Mary was famous in Hope for her peach cobbler. Four years in a row she won the blue ribbon at the county fair for her magnificent dessert. 

Momma loaded the chicken into a woven reed picnic basket I got as part of late Widow Harper’s estate, and I headed off for the center of town while the air was still a bit nippy. By the time I met up with Mary, the temperature was about perfect. We agreed to meet a couple of hours before noon, and we planned to go out to Round Meadow. It was a beautiful open patch in the forest with an apple tree in the center surrounded by three large oak trees that were perfect for shade. 

Mary arrived on her horse as I was leaving the bakery. I took her basket from her then helped her down from her horse. We tied her horse to the back of my wagon, then I politely helped her into the front seat. Climbing in behind her, I grabbed the reins and was about to drive my horses onward when I turned and looked Mary in the eyes. She looked so happy to be having lunch with me under the shade trees, it made my heart feel warm. All these years we knew each other, and I never imagined she could be the one until now. 

We had a pleasant conversation during our ride about what I was planting, and what her father and brothers were planting. This was the first year I planted my own crops, but I was confident in my abilities after all the years I helped Daddy farm his land. The conversation was not a lot of forced small talk. We actually talked as freely and openly as we did when we played as children. Our words were not strained; we genuinely enjoyed each other’s company. 

We were pleased to find no one else chose Round Meadow as a picnic spot today, at least not as of the time we arrived. I tied the horses to a post someone put there long ago underneath one of the oak trees. Mary and I spread out a blanket and set our baskets near the center. Taking a seat close to each other, but not inappropriately close, we continued the conversation we were having in the wagon. Every time she smiled that cute smile of hers, it made me gush. I really could imagine myself spending my life with her. 

Mary did not live far from Round Meadow, so when our picnic was at an end, I rode her home in my wagon. As I untied her horse and handed her the reins, Mary gave me a sweet little peck on the cheek. I obviously blushed like an apple, and it made Mary giggle the sweetest little giggle. I watched her as she walked her horse up to her house. She turned around about halfway there and waved goodbye to me. I smiled wide and waved back. 

Mary’s house was on the other side of town from mine, so it was a long ride back. I did not mind. I did not mind one bit at all. I even found myself whistling for most of the ride. At this moment I felt happier than I ever felt. Our plan was to meet again next Saturday for another picnic. This time we both planned to bring our rifles and do some target shooting. She was probably the only person my age who was a better shot than me. 

It felt nice to get home, get out of my clothes and into my pajamas. I lit a lamp and a hanging lantern to light up the room since it was going to be getting dark soon. I laid down on my bed and stared up at the wooden plank ceiling. I was already sixteen and owned a significant plot of land complete with a house and barn. I was left twenty chickens, two horses and three dairy goats. I was even considering the possibility of purchasing the land adjacent to mine. It seemed like I had everything in my life except a woman to love. 

There were not very many girls my age in town who were not currently being courted by someone else. I thought of asking one girl I knew for as long as I could remember, but the guys in town today told me that Mary moved away with her family a few weeks ago. I was sad to hear that because we always got along so well. We probably would have made the perfect couple. 

The only girl left in town I could think of was a pretty girl named Charlotte. The problem was, because of a case of scarlet fever when she was little, she was completely deaf. I did not know how to use her sign language, but she was very adept at reading lips. I did not know if I could live with someone who could not hear me unless they were looking directly at my face. 

I had a lot of thinking to do. In only a few short months I would reach the age of seventeen years, and I had no girl in my life. If I did not decide I wanted to marry Charlotte, I was going to have to go somewhere else to find a bride. I knew some others who found wives outside of Hope, but those cases are very few and far in between. Before I dozed off, I decided I would call on Charlotte to go out on the lake or something to see how well we could get along. 

I made it to the center of town five times over the next two weeks. Some were trips to get food and supplies for me and my family, but I made as many trips as I could in hopes of running into Charlotte. I knew I would probably have to go to her home to ask her to spend a day with me, as it was very rare that she left their family property. 

People tended to avoid her like they were afraid they were going to go deaf by being around her. She already had difficulty being social and making friends, and with the way so many people of the town of Hope shunned her, Charlotte did not come to the center of town very often. I decided I would make the long ride out to her house and ask her there if she would like to spend the day with me sometime next week. 

The day came for me to ride out to Charlotte’s house in hopes of beginning my courtship of her. I picked some roses from one of the many rose bushes old Widow Harper planted around the outside of the house. I thought Charlotte might enjoy the beautiful blossoms, and it would be a good way to break the ice. 

As Momma helped me snip the stems and assemble a small bouquet of beautiful red roses to present to Charlotte, my youngest sister was playing in the open space between my father’s crops and my own as she did often. Momma put the last of the roses into a flower basket and was in the process of handing it to me when we heard my baby sister scream. 

I turned to look to see why she screamed, and I saw the most horrific thing I ever saw in my life. In my worst nightmares I did not think things this horrid existed. It had two sets of arms that extended out of what could best be called a torso. The lower set of arms was human sized, but the upper set was enormous. The round fleshy, bloated body was encircled by four long insect-like legs. The atrocious beast had no head, nor any eyes or ears that I could see, but instead had a large gaping mouth between its shoulders. I would never forget this creature, the image of this thing from another place burned itself into my memory. 

I grabbed my rifle where it was propped against the wall of the house and began running to help my sister. She continued to scream as the unholy demon scuttled closer and closer towards her. Overcome by panic, I pushed myself until I ran at a speed I never achieved before this. The thing was going to get to her before me, and I did not have a clear shot. 

I heard my mother’s screams behind me as the ungodly monster grabbed my sister with one of its giant arms, turned, took a few steps, and then leapt high into the forest. My sister’s screams faded as the creature bound away with her held tightly in its grip. 

I desperately kept running, but since I was watching the creature carry my seven-year-old sister away to God knows where, I was not paying attention to the ground in front of me. I did not know if it was a stick, dirt or a rock, but something was in the way of my foot. I kicked it hard and went flying to the ground. 

I got up and continued running with an intense sense of urgency. I moved through the woods as fast as I possibly could for another five minutes or so before I realized I had no idea why I was running. I knew I was chasing after something, but what that something was I could not say. 

From far behind me, I heard my mother yell out, “Did ya get that coyote? It’s done run off with another one of our chickens.” 

That was right; I was chasing after a coyote that snagged one of our chickens and ran. I did not understand why I chased it so far rather than simply shooting it. It was not like I had to worry about shooting and killing the chicken. Chances were, it was already dead at that point anyway. 

I knew, I thought I knew something was not right. I asked my mother where my sister was, and Momma told me she was inside doing her schoolwork. She was about to turn fourteen and was going to be finished with school soon. In a couple of more years, she would be getting married off, and Momma and Daddy would have their house back to themselves again. 

If I finally ever met a girl who took an interest back in me, I would one day give them grandchildren. There were so few girls left here in town my age, and all of them were already involved in a courtship with someone. I was going to have to go off somewhere to find a wife unless someone moved in soon. I was nearly seventeen years old, and it was time I started my family if I ever planned to start one. 

Unknown to us, the population of this former mining town would never grow because the townspeople were being devoured one by one. Some horrible beast from a hell unknown hunted the people for lord knows how many years. The retched beast possessed the best camouflage any creature could possibly possess. No one or nothing that saw it, that ever ran across its path retained any memory of what transpired. 

Not only did nothing remember what transpired, no one and nothing remembered anything that had to do with the beast. When it ate someone or carried someone off, everyone suddenly remember that person moved, or died, or forgot about them all together as was the case with my youngest sister. The horrid creature was not gone with her for more than a few minutes, and we lost any memory that my baby sister ever existed. 

How it did what it did, no one would ever know. No one could remember the creature long enough to even know what it does. It may rearrange time or possibly reality to erase any sign it exists, but whatever it did it left absolutely no sign, no trail, and no memory that it ever existed. For decades it fed on the game animals, livestock and people in and around the region. It continued to feed, completely unknown to everyone, until the entire population of the town of Hope was lost. 

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