Skip to main content

As she stopped to catch her breath, she looked back…

 As she stopped to catch her breath, she looked back. Her first mistake was being relieved when she didn’t see it behind her anymore. 

Her second mistake was deciding it was okay for her to stay still for a few minutes longer.

Her biggest mistake, however, was coming to these woods in the first place. 

Agreeing to this camping trip with her friends seemed innocent enough, but if she had known they wanted to go to these specific woods in Baldenboro, she would have demanded they go to another. Now, this… thing… was after her. She had no idea where her friends were and no way to contact them since she had dropped her phone as she ran, and there was no way in hell she was going to stop to pick it up.

She gathered her bearings; she was sure that the thing - was it a huge wild cat? It didn’t look or act like any cat she was aware of; wild or domestic - had to be far enough away at this point that she could find her car and get the fuck out of there. It had to be. She didn’t hear it anywhere near her. The woods were silent, so if it was close to her, she would have heard the rustling of the underbrush or the deeply disturbing throat noises it made as it prepared to pounce.

Wait a second… the woods were silent?

What had happened to the sounds of the nocturnal wildlife? 

A chill ran down her spine along with the distinct feeling she was being watched.

That chill was soon replaced by the hot breath of The Beast on her neck. It seemed to taunt her as it made that throat noise it had made just before killing her girlfriend, now just centimeters behind her head.

She wanted to scream. She wanted to test her luck and run again. However, she found herself rooted to the spot as her voice stuck in her throat.

The Beast taunted her one last time with an earth-shaking roar, which was the last thing she ever heard.
Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

It was time. She'd fought against it for so long

  It was time. She'd fought against it for so long, but now, she was putting her foot down. “John. You are absolutely not naming the baby; ‘Justin Thyme’. Please. I am begging. Stop with the joke names. You’re hurting me.” “I’m going to be a dad, Susan, I have to get my funny bones dusted off and oiled up. I’m all rusty from my years of being an edgy shut-in!”  While it was nice to see John glowing and having fun with life again, Susan could not help but wish he would stop with the puns, they were becoming a bit much. “I, for one,” Thomas butted in, bringing the teas into the room, “am a fan of waiting at least until we know the sex for the baby before we decide on a possible name for the gremlin.” John huffed. “You’re not any fun. You don’t have any names in your life that mean something to you, or that you’d always liked as an idea for a future child?” Thomas sat on the couch, blowing on his teacup in thought for a moment. “Well, to be honest, I never thought I’d make it t...
Post a Comment
Read more

This wasn't an ordinary murder

      As the police officer uncovered the body, she knew this was no ordinary murder. The way the body looked drawn up and dry like it'd been weeks since the date of death, despite the body being only a day old told her it had to be some sicko at the least, but more likely, some supernatural entity had killed this young man.     She recovered the body, deciding that forensics could handle the body, and she could give her two cents if asked. She wasn't a detective, after all.     However, she could still investigate the murder. That was her job as a police officer, after all.      She wrote her report, then went back to the station. At the station, she started her research. She looked up anything she could think of that could have done this to the victim.     She researched all manner of cannibalistic monsters. She was there for so long, the shift change happened around her, catching her off guard
Post a Comment
Read more

To save his own life, he would have to kill

  To save his own life, he would have to kill. That’s what the game master had said. Arlo had been thinking about this, letting it stew in his mind for a very long time, and he’d finally come to a conclusion; the game master had never specified what exactly he had to kill. So now, here Arlo stood, anxiously waiting for the large, iron bars to slowly rise so he could enter the arena and see if he could get away with this. There came the thunderous applause, which was his cue to run into the arena and gather the attention of the audience, which he would really be relying on to help him survive. He was all too aware of the fact that having the audience’s favor usually secured your survival, and he needed all the help he could realistically get. The excited screaming of the audience, clearly fueled by alcohol, was easier than Arlo anticipated to bring to a decibel that felt like if it went on for too long, it could deafen a man, and more importantly, shook the arena a not-insignificant...
Post a Comment
Read more