The Kiernan

They found another one. Last night, the forest split open with a piercing scream. I could remember the exact moment it happened when I was tucked in bed and deep in thought. In the next moment, blood-curdling cries infiltrated my brain, and my heart immediately dropped to my stomach. My younger brother, Arlo, heard it too. After it happened, that lunatic came into my room in a frenzied panic before he bothered the police about it.

Lights flashed with red and blue in the glint of my window as sirens emerged, heading straight to the forest. We tried to see what had happened, but it had been too dark to see beyond each tree. So eventually, I let sleep take me. Knowing Arlo, I’m pretty sure the restless idiot was up all night thinking about it. And I was right.

 This morning, he violently shook me awake, screaming, “They found another dead body near the Kieran. Another one, Keith!”

We found out later that it was that of a young woman, too badly dismembered and bathed in blood to identify her. Repulsing. But not shocking.

For the past few decades, they have found several bodies in the Kieran, all that coincidentally met the same fate: badly dismembered, bloody, and gnawed on, as if the culprit was that of a monstrous creature not of this world. That was the main conclusion they had drawn each time. Yet for some reason, nobody could identify the monster. People think that maybe it was a bear or a wolf. But what are the chances? And can a creature of that nature truly be capable of such gruesome acts? Like many, I don’t think so. But of course, there is no evidence that supports this claim. After a few decades, you’d think they’d have a lead. And to that, you’d be sadly mistaken.

I’ve been thinking for a while, actually–and I can’t help but go back to the old stories Ethan used to tell me about the creature he called a Wendigo–cursed to wander the woods, devouring anything in its path. A demonic creature that treads in the depths of the forest. It’s said that they possess some sort of insatiable hunger for human flesh–the thrill of the kill that drives its soul to madness. 

We grew up hearing these tales, but we never truly believed them. He’s in college now, but he still gets to me. I used to laugh at Ethan’s stories, but lately, I’m not so sure. Just recently, I’ve been feeling ever so eerie about it. Claw marks have started appearing on the trees, long and deliberate, as if something wanted us to notice. Arlo worried, and I tried to brush it off. Said it was just a bear, or some dumb kids trying to spook us. But the marks were too deep. Too clean. I’ve heard ear-splitting screams on some restless nights when I thought I was losing my mind. And maybe I was. But God, it sliced through the stillness, high and desperate.

I don’t know why we still live near the Kieran. We should move. I should call someone. I should let the professionals handle it. But I think it’s calling my name.

I didn’t tell Arlo about the fact that I was planning on exploring the Kieran forest. He’s a buzzkill — the lamest person I know. But I know he worries like this because he cares. It was especially bad when Ethan was around because he was always off somewhere doing something stupid. He’s like Arlo’s complete opposite–maybe that's what makes him such a moron. 

“One day, you’ll realize just how real these tales are,” he’d constantly tell me. That’s why I hate that his ridiculous stories have convinced me to do this.

On my way back from school, I went over towards the forbidden woods. I stepped over the caution tape that blocked the entrance to the Kieran when the police left with the rest of the remains. Almost immediately, as I crept into the woods, my senses were overridden by the stench of something horribly rotten. The air curdled with a thick, foul scent that was so suffocating, I couldn’t breathe it in without gagging uncontrollably. I covered my nose, but there was no masking the odor completely.

Venturing deeper into the forest, a path unevenly laid beneath my feet and long, damp strands of grass touched my ankles. Looking around, the woods were unkind as darkness was quick to enclose me in its space. Whistling winds seemed to flow past me and an uneasy feeling settled at the bottom of my stomach…

No, this was stupid. Absolutely stupid. So why did I feel so scared?

I came to a stop, unsure what had caught my attention—only that something had. The forest had gone still, the air thinning into a deafening silence. Then, faintly at first, I felt it. I felt a subtle tremor beneath my feet. It grew stronger with each passing second. The ground began to shake from thundering footsteps, who belonged to not another human being—but a monster. Each rustle of grass and crunch of leaves seemed to close the distance between me and the beast.

Without a second thought, my body lurched behind a thorny bush, and I ducked, in hopes that whatever resided in the forest wasn't aware I was invading its territory. But as an enormous shadow began to loom over me, I became frozen in space. I prayed that it would pass. I prayed that whatever it was, couldn't detect me. The smell only became more prominent as it approached the area–the smell of rotting flesh. The dryness of teeth and bone began to rattle as it reached closer and closer. I held my breath, every muscle in my body trembling, until the footsteps passed me. But it most definitely wasn’t gone. It took me a moment to regain the thin strand of composure I had left as I took in my first breath. 

Hesitantly, I lifted my head slightly, peering through the bush. What I saw was hideous. Disgusting. There it stood, consumed by the shadow, towering over any man. Its skin stretched thin over protruding bones and torn muscle like a walking starved corpse. It had large fractured antlers that stuck out of its skull and long black claws. Sunken eyes and yellow teeth, covered reddish-brown rust. 

It seemed to be holding something in its mouth, chewing on something. It hunched over, its bony frame crouching low, shoulders rising and falling in uneven motions. Its jaw moved in a grotesque rhythm as a wet, tearing crunch echoed like meat being ripped apart. 

That’s when I saw it.

A pale, human foot dangled from its mouth. The skin was torn where the teeth had sunk in, leaving trails of dark blood along its chin. It looked disturbingly fresh, and I wondered if it belonged to the woman from the other day. The creature bit down again, and the sound that followed was a slack, tearing crunch. I could feel the burning acids in my throat try to escape as I swallowed everything back down.

But now I was certain it was the Wendigo. 

I crouched low, a notebook trembling in my hands. I couldn’t believe it…it was real, just a few feet in front of me. I clicked my pen as quietly as I could, recording each observation:

1). At least eight feet, limbs way too long for its frame

2). Long claws, probably responsible for the claw marks

3). Malnourished, walking skeleton, feeds on human flesh

I adjusted myself, heart hammering as the sounds of crushing bones made my teeth ache. That’s when the pen nearly slipped from my grasp. Every instinct screamed to leave, to run and forget what I’d seen, but I couldn’t… Not when it raised its head, turned towards my way, as if it could feel my eyes on it.

I froze.

The Wendigo tilted its head and smiled–a low groan emitted from its horrible being. Its eyes burned brighter now as strings of flesh hung from its jaw.

4). It knows I’m here.

I ducked lower, my body pressed against the dirt, every breath a dart in my chest. The soil was cold and damp against my cheek, clinging to my cheek like the sweat I had felt course through the entirety of my body. I’m ready to go now. Go back to Arlo and never tell him about my time at the Kieran. Go home, go to Arlo, forget this. Forget it all.

A gust of air brushed my shoulder—hot, rank, and wet. A hollow breath brushed against the side of my face. I could feel my stomach twisted into a thousand knots. I stumbled to my feet in haste, ready to run. But its hand slammed into the ground beside me, claws carving deep furrows through the soil.  

My fingers tightened around the edge of my notebook as the corners began digging into my palms. I couldn’t even react, despite the stinging pain of the sharp corners against my skin. It bit deep as I clutched it as if it could save me. I tried to dash, but before I could even move a step, it snatched the notebook from my grasp, tearing each page to scraps.

Its jaw hung crooked, twitching as it let out a shriek–a terrible sound that made my ears bleed. My eyes met with its own that glowed faintly. Its lips were shredded, its teeth were ragged as they grinded together. Strings of dried blood and saliva from it dripped onto my skin, trailing down my chin.

My eyes seemed to dart in every direction, looking for an opening, anything. Anything at all, I begged. But as its eyes locked in on me, it decided then and there that I would be its next target.

Ava Santos, Grade 11

Creative Writing Major