Hello! My name is Octavia Fuller, I am in 11th grade and so far my favorite thing to write has been short stories. For this particular piece, I was inspired by a combination of mythology and scary stories I've read online. Enjoy :D!
I trudged down the trail, mindful of each footfall as the threat of sinking into the mud was apparent with every step I took. My German Shepherd, Hank, who never had an issue with traversing through mud, stayed at a pace about twenty-five yards ahead of me.
“Show off…” I muttered, but I was glad he could recognize the direction of home, even in the pitch black forest. Myself, however, requires a flashlight just to walk straight. The one I was using was a piece of crap though. Outside of the feeble, flickering yellow light, was a void that stretched out endlessly. Our position in the woods was so far removed from any civilization that there was nothing but untamed forest for miles. My wife and I’s house was nestled in the middle of a clearing surrounded by dark, thick, foliage. Although I could tell I was getting close, any light illuminating from the windows was snuffed out by the dense rows of trees. Suddenly, up ahead Hank took a sharp turn to the right, out of view of my light. I couldn’t help but smile as my pace quickened. I turned my head instinctively, eyes scanning for the first glimpses of muted blaze backlighting the trees, and I spotted it. I’m home.
The smell of fresh pine flooded my nose as I stepped into the foyer.
“I’m home!” I announced, slipping my boots off and haphazardly splaying them on the mat by the door. I put my coat and gloves in a large tupperware held within the closet under the stairs. My wife, Inaya, appeared in the doorway to the living room.
“Hank’ll need to be cleaned before we let him inside, he’s covered in mud” I say to her.
“Well, hello to you too,” she says, wrapping her arms around my neck. “How was your walk?”
“Good. Hank nearly killed an opposum. It scampered up a tree before he could get to it though. Is everything in the house taken care of?”
“Yup. I left some food out for Thor and Poppy. I changed their litter too. I’ll wash Hank. You go take a shower, you’re filthy.” She grins at me, and even though I knew she was right I rolled my eyes in feigned annoyance.
When I got done showering I found Hank and Inaya snuggled together on the couch, Hank partially wrapped in a towel.
. . .
“You ready to go?” Inaya asked me from the driver side window as I carried our last bag of stuff out to the car. It was moderately heavy, the weight of the bag causing the plastic handles to thin, effectively digging into my fingers. The early morning air was chilly. Damp mist refracted sunlight into thin beams, which gracefully caressed the ground. Hank laid in the backseat, head between his paws but still wagging his tail. I got into the Jeep, putting the bag of road snacks at my feet. All things considered, it was just about as perfect of a spring morning as it can get, which clashed harshly with the adrenaline that pumped through my veins.
“I’m oddly kind of nervous” My voice came as a surprise, as if it were coming from someone else.
“Why?” My wife replied, not caring to turn away from the road as she backed out.
“I don’t really know to be honest, I just… Ah, nevermind.”
The drive was long, we ended up having to make several stops to relieve both ourselves and Hank. The hills got steeper, brush got thicker and trees got higher as we went. Finally, we arrived in the county of Itasca, home of the Chippewa national forest. I stepped out of the car, and as the ground hit my feet I was made acutely aware of how achey my legs had become. We let Hank loose from the trunk and he took off running around the campsite. Meanwhile, Inaya and I set up our tent; not that we’d be needing it any time soon, as we had already decided not to waste any time on getting to hunting. From what I could tell, we still had a couple of hours of daylight left.
We trecked down a main trail, walking deliberately to muffle our footfalls. Hank has always been unhelpful in this aspect of hunting. Regardless, we made good progress. In the near distance, up trail from us, a loud crunch echoed out. Quickening my pace, I made towards noise, eager to see what it was. Once I got significantly closer, I heard a quieter grinding of leaves. I whipped my head to the right and slowly veered off the trail, heart racing. As I scrutinized the forest floor, carpeted in pine needles, leaves and twigs, I saw the source of the noise. It wasn't 50 feet away from me. My heart dropped. Turning around, I saw my wife looking at me, her eyes gleaming with curiosity, expectation.
“It’s just a fox,” I said, and the transition on her face from hope to disappointment was almost comical.
The rest of the hunt was uneventful, despite seeing multiple large animals on the car ride up here, the woods seemed vacant. We stayed out later than we usually would, in hopes of running into a deer. However, despite the aforementioned gray fox, we didn’t see anything but a few squirrels. The sun kissed the sky goodnight, indicating we probably should’ve started back half an hour ago. Navigating the woods is significantly harder in the dark. Even though I like to think I’m pretty experienced, night blindness can still creep up on me if I’m not being careful. Hank, on the other hand, does not seem to have this problem. He led us through trees, always staying at the very edge of our flashlight’s range. Inaya and I were quiet, not out of the fear of scaring away game but because there was simply nothing to say. The walk back felt longer than the walk out, I assume due to a mixture of the darkness that was surrounding us and the anticipation of getting back to the campsite where we could sleep. I looked around, barely able to make out the trees on either side of me. Without warning, icey water began running through my veins and dread rushed over me. I can’t explain it but the woods felt eerie, sinister even, and I'm surprised it took me this long to realize why. It was completely silent. No frogs, no crickets, no bugs, nothing.
“Inaya,” I say in a voice just above a whisper
“Uhuh?” She responds and I can tell by her tone she’s on edge as well.
“I think-“ But I’m cut off, by another voice. My own voice.
“Inaya”
We both freeze in our tracks, up ahead Hank goes completely stiff, tail between his legs.
“Inaya” My mouth dries as my heart goes up into my throat, effectively cutting off my breath. It’s closer this time.
“Jordan?” Ianya says. I can see Hank trembling. “That’s- is that you?” Her voice is coming from my left.
I can’t respond. The lump in my throat seems to have tripled in size.
“Jordan?” I hear Inaya repeat again, but from my right this time. Before I can respond she makes a small shriek.
“Oh god” I hear her coming from my left.
“Oh god” I hear her coming from my right.
A loud crash breaks me out of whatever trance I was in as Hank bounds away from us, out of our light and towards camp. I cock my shotgun and aim it to the right.
“Inaya, shine your light over there” My voice comes across as stern, much more confident than I actually feel. Any amount of courage fizzles out immediately once the light grazes over me, and reveals the thing standing not ten feet off the trail. A wave of nausea engulfs me as I look up at it. The light irradiates a small patch of woods, multiple trees, and what I can only describe as a half rotting humanoid deer standing on its hind legs. Only it's too tall. Its proportions are too long. Its eyes are so grossly big they appear to be half popping out of its skull. But that's not the worst thing about its eyes, no. The worst thing is how human they look, eyelids stretched painfully wide, revealing a round circle of white encasing its pupils, dilated so heavily despite the light shining directly at it.
“Jordan?” Its jaw moves in a deliberate, almost exaggerated way as the voice of my wife projects out of its mouth. Despite everything in my body screaming for me to run, I can’t move. I want to cry, to throw up, to pass out. It begins striding towards us, its long legs making elaborate, nearly painful looking steps, meanwhile its arms move almost jelly like at its sides. The vague thought that they look broken crosses my mind. Only when it begins to lean over, stretching its neck out more than what should be possible to be face-to-face with me as its jaw slowly unhinges am I aware of my body. Subconsciously, like I’m a spectator to my own actions, I pull the trigger.
Everything comes crashing down at that moment. That thing reels back, and lets out a noise I can only describe as a mix between a woman's scream and an elk's howl. Dropping my gun, I turn, grab my wife’s arm, and begin booking it in the direction of our campsite. Stumbling through the trees, I try everything in my power to stay on the trail; which is hard to do in the dark during normal circumstances, and utterly impossible now . Sharp lacerations engrave my body as I plow through sticks and branches.
“Inaya!? Are you following me!?”
“What the- What the fuck just- What was that thing?!” She calls out, not too far behind me.
There's another guttural screeching not too far behind us, causing me to propel my legs forward at a pace I didn’t previously think was possible. Frantic barking rings out from closeby. Hank. I steer myself in his direction, praying Inaya hears him and does the same. There are several times in which I begin to tumble over a log, or a branch, and it's only by the good grace of God that I don’t trip. Finally, the radiance of a dim orange light indicates that the campsite is closeby. Hank is in front of the jeep, body tense with his head thrust upwards as a mix of grating barks and growls fills the air. I’ve made it now, and barely slow down in time to prevent myself from slamming into the car. I rip at the door handle but it doesn’t budge. Shit!. I whirl around to see Inaya just breaking through the foliage into the campsite
“Where the hell are the keys!?” I shout, with no effort to disguise the pure panic consuming my body. I watch as Inaya’s face turns pale. She bolts to our tent and begins ravaging through our backpacks. Quick, heavy stomping can be heard nearby, getting closer by the second. I press my full body against the car. This is it. The creature’s face surfaces from the darkness first. Bloody and disfigured, a large bullet hole in its left cheekbone. As its eyes boar into mine, a low gurgling noise reverberates all around me, to the point I feel it vibrate through every fiber of my being. It's somehow taller than it was the last time. It emerges fully into the orange glow of the campground. All I can do is watch helplessly as it bends down, almost mechanically as the gurgling sound gets louder. It happened too fast for me to fully comprehend it. I watch as Hank, whose presence I've all but forgotten about, leaps vertically, sinking his teeth into its neck and not letting go. The thing stumbles back and screams, before swiping at him, tossing him like a ragdoll into the Jeep. The high pitched scream of my dog, the creature that threw him, and the car alarm come together to create a chorus of dread. My wife runs back from the tent, keys in her hand, and jumps into the driver's seat. I wrench the back door open, and in one motion throw Hank into the car while hopping in myself. Instantly, before I can even close the door, the Jeep is moving. We accelerate past that creature and make a hard right onto the main road out of there. We’re nearing fifty miles per hour before I’m able to garner the strength to make a move for the door.
“Are you ok!?” Inaya asks me, and I look over to Hank. Glancing up, her eyes meet mine in the rearview mirror. She then glimpses the crippled body of our barely breathing dog. “Oh Jesus Christ…”
. . .
We sat in silence, Inaya wrapped in a blanket that one of the veterinarians had provided for us. After finding the nearest vet’s office and calling their emergency number, we managed to reach a woman named Dr. Thatcher. She arrived at her office from her house 10 minutes before we were able to get there. She promptly called multiple of her coworkers so they could complete an urgent surgery. It wasn’t looking good. From what we understood, Hank had multiple broken ribs, possibly more fractured bones elsewhere, and internal bleeding. It was 11PM. Both Inaya and I knew we should report what had just happened to us, but we didn’t know where to start, let alone who would believe us. When Dr. Thatcher had asked us what happened, Inaya had flatly said, ‘He was hit by a car’. Which, in a roundabout way, was technically true. Minutes ticked on as we did nothing but sit and stare at the wall. What could we do? The room we sat in was clean, white, with simple framed photographs arranged tastefully along the walls. There was one that stuck out to me. Two little kids, both girls, lying down. They were smiling, while holding a small white dog. I stared at it for a moment before hot tears streamed down my face. Once they started, I couldn’t stop them. My chest began to burn as my breathing quickened. Waves of stabbing pain crashed over me as I began sobbing. Inaya wrapped her arm around me but I barely noticed it. Why? Why did this happen? I reran the entire night over and over in my head but just couldn’t make sense of it. After what felt like hours, one of the vets materialized in the doorway adjacent to us. His eyes flashed with shock, and then pity.
“Your dog is in stable condition.” He said looking down at my wife and me.
“What?” My voice sounded almost as raw as my throat felt.
“He’ll need to stay here for a couple of days so we can monitor him of course” He added hastily “But, he should be alright.”
. . .
We visited Hank everyday leading up to his discharge. We felt weary to be staying at a motel so close to the forest where everything went down. Still, seeing Hank get progressively better, we began to feel safer, more removed from that night. At last, Hank was in good enough health to endure the drive home. Dr. Thatcher had given us the rundown on his condition, how we were to progress with his care, and instructed us to check in with our local vet; and that’s exactly what we did. Life changed for all three of us from then on out. We quit hunting and sold our house and moved into the suburbs in a nearby town. Hank, who had risked his life to save mine, was now disabled and no longer able to walk long distances. Despite this, he continues to be a ray of sunshine. As for Inaya and myself, we have both sworn to never step foot in the woods at night, ever again.