"Sam, are you ready to go?" Vicky's voice echoed through the house.
I was running late, as usual. Vicky, my wife, was doing her best to get me out the door on time. I'd worked the night shift as a security guard and had stayed up far too late.
"Yeah, just a minute, let me get my boots on," I called back, tugging on my shoes while she continued to talk.
"Your parents said everyone’s coming at 5 o’clock. We need to hurry," she urged.
My parents were hosting a big cookout, and my two sisters, their husbands, my brother, his wife, and all my nieces and nephews were coming. Our family gatherings were frequent and cherished. Though we hadn't always gotten along as kids, we became close after high school.
I dashed out of the bedroom, grabbing my wallet and keys from the kitchen counter. "I can’t wait on you all day," I teased as I passed Vicky, who was sitting at the kitchen table on her phone. She shot me a glare before grabbing an orange from the fruit bowl and hurling it at me. It smashed into the wall just as I ducked.
"Me? I’ve been waiting on you," she laughed.
I grinned, "Damn, juice everywhere." I reached for a rag.
She playfully pushed me into the wall, "No time, we gotta go."
"Okay, okay. Let's go," I said, laughing. "If we get ants, I’m blaming you."
Still laughing, we climbed into the truck and headed out.
“I’m so glad you got off work tonight. I thought there was no way they’d let you have a night off,” Vicky sang.
I work for a family-owned construction company. I got in with their company through their son, Ben. My brother and I were friends with Ben since we were in middle school. Then I had worked my way up the company as quickly as I could. I learned as much as I possibly could so I could be very versatile, in hopes of avoiding layoffs. I usually didn’t have any kind of late shift, but the night security guard had just quit, so I had been the standby for about a week. I had bounced around to almost every position and all the different crews over the years. So, I knew what to do in most situations.
I slowly worked my way up to where I was. I was the assistant day supervisor of our crew, alongside my friend Ben. We grew up together, were best friends all through high school, and had stayed friends over the years. Vicky and I usually met up with Ben and one of his passing girlfriends that he cycled through every weekend. We were good friends.
“I hate it when you work the night shift. It throws everything off,” Vicky huffed.
I hated it too. I didn’t like having to sleep all the next day when I got off, but thankfully it wasn’t my typical gig. I just had to suck it up and take one for the team. I knew it was the little things like this that made the higher-ups favor me even more, and keep on pushing me up the ladder.
“It’s just for a little while, Vick. They’re holding interviews tomorrow with a few of the guys who know the position. They’ll probably have a new guy first thing tomorrow, and they’ll be back to normal.”
“I hope so. You work too hard as it is,” Vicky said. “You sure they’re not going to try and stick you there permanently?”
I laughed, “No, I’ve done my time. That would be what they call a de-motion.” She cut her eyes at me as I mocked her. “You worry too much.”
“Oh, shut up,” she jabbed back.
I yawned behind the wheel, fighting back the tiredness in my eyes.
“You sure you’re not too tired for this? I didn’t wear you out earlier, did I?” she said suggestively.
I let out a hard, short laugh, “No, I’m good.”
“Oh… we’ll see if you get anything else from me…” Vicky threatened, punching her bony knuckle into my ribs.
“Hey!” I yelped in pain.
“Take it back,” she laughed.
“Okay, okay…” I laughed. “I think I might have pulled a hammy… or something.”
“That’s better. Do you want to try again tonight?” Vicky asked, wiggling her eyebrows jokingly.
“Yes, ma’am. Do you really have to ask?” I chuckled.
Vicky and I had been married for a year. I loved her so much. I would have done anything for her, even work the shitty hours to save up for the life she always talked about; the family she wanted. We had been talking for a couple months about having kids and just taking the leap forward. She was 24, and I was 23. We were young, sure, but we both wanted kids and thought it was an excellent time to start trying for one. We were both scared in the beginning, but after some talking, we were very excited. We had been trying for a couple of weeks, hoping she would get pregnant soon.
Vicky's shorter than me, with long blonde hair and blue eyes. She spends most of her time working at the hospital as a nurse and loves it. Helping people through tough times really fulfills her. She often dreams about having a little girl who looks just like her—a Mini-Vick.
I’m not too worried about whether we have a boy or a girl. I’m just ready for whatever comes. A little Mini-Vick or a Mini-Me would be great.
I’m taller than most people I meet, not a giant, but definitely above average. My job involves a lot of physical work, so I stay in pretty good shape. I still try to work out when I can, partly because I’ve always had to keep up with my twin brother, Seth. We’ve been competing with each other forever.
“Let’s go pick up a pregnancy test before we go home tonight. Maybe I’ll use it in a few days. Who knows, we could get pregnant tonight,” Vicky suggested.
Grinning, I said, “That’d be crazy.” The thought of having a little baby running around did scare me but brought me unusual happiness all at the same time. I was excited about the possibility of being a dad.
I drove down the low-lit roads on the outer edges of Dallas, Texas. I realized we needed gas about five minutes away from our house, so I pulled into a little gas station that was my usual fill up. I ran my card as fast as I could and flipped down the metal tab into the grooves to keep the gas running.
“Hey,” Vick chirped out the window, “will you go inside and get me those hard ciders I like? Please?” she begged jokingly. “This might be my last night drinking for a while.”
I laughed, “If you hear this pump click off, will you put it up so we can roll once I get back?” I jogged inside the station as she agreed.
Once inside, I was standing at the coolers in the back as I searched for the ciders she wanted. That’s when this dude came walking up beside me.
"How's it going?" the stranger asked, his eyes fixed on the beer cooler.
"Oh, just getting some drinks for a family cookout. How about you?" I replied, trying to be polite.
"Family cookout, huh?" he said, a distant look in his eyes. "I haven't had one of those in a long time."
"That's too bad," I said, unsure how to respond. "I'm Sam," I offered, extending my hand.
"Jon," he replied, shaking my hand. "You look like someone I know," he added, his tone flat.
I smiled awkwardly, "I get that a lot. My brother and I are identical twins, so maybe you've met him before."
"Yeah... maybe," Jon said, still scanning the beer selection, his interest waning. "Well, I think I've seen enough. You have a good one, Sam. Family's important. Enjoy them while you can."
As he walked away, a chill ran down my spine, his words lingering ominously in the air.
It was a bit weird the way he said it, making me linger there for a moment trying to figure out what the hell just happened. I looked over my shoulder a few times trying to look out for the creep just in case he jumped out from the condom isle and bit my ankle or something.
That dude vaporized. I don’t know where he went but I never saw him again. Good thing too. He was straight up weird. But hey, it was the usual small talk nonsense you'd expect from a random dude in the beer aisle of a gas station. I mean, where else do you meet these characters? So, I shrugged it off, grabbed Vicky’s booze, and headed back to the truck.
After about twenty minutes, we were pulling into my parents’ driveway. Their house sat on a little over an acre of cleared property that met up with a thick patch of woods so dense you could easily get lost.
As soon as the truck roared into the driveway, we stepped out, and Seth flung open the front door of my parents’ house, beer in hand. The smell of barbecue wafted through the air, mingling with the laughter and chatter spilling from inside.
"Don't get too crazy, okay?" Vicky requested, her eyes twinkling with a mix of amusement and mild concern.
I just laughed, "I won't." I usually did.
My brother and I had a unique relationship. As twins, we grew up inseparable, our lives intertwined from the moment we were born. Even in the womb, we had each other, but probably wrapped our umbilical cords around each other’s throats. Our bond defied simple explanation; it just was. No matter how long we went without seeing each other, we always picked up right where we left off, as if we’d only been apart for minutes. The love we shared was different from any other. Not more or less, just different.
Growing up, we found ourselves in all sorts of scrapes at school, with friends, everywhere. If one of us got into trouble, the other would step in, taking the blame without hesitation. It didn't matter what the consequences were; we couldn’t stand to see the other get caught. Seeing Seth about to get into trouble for something he did, I’d step in and take the fall, no matter what. It wasn’t something we ever discussed; it was just understood. Maybe it wasn’t the smartest thing, but it was how we were. Usually, we found ways to lessen the situations though, having two brains could help us outthink some of the stupid shit one of us would do. Not that we were little hooligans, just crazy kids full of energy, and dumb ideas.
As soon as we were in melee range, we zeroed in on one another while my dad and both brothers-in-law watched and laughed by the grill. Vicky just shook her head, smiling as she walked inside.
“Hey, Seth,” she said.
“What up, squad,” he joked, as Vicky walked inside to join my sisters, mother, and all the kids.
Seth killed the last little bit of beer and then cranked back and threw the bottle into the woods beside my parents’ house.
“Hey!” My dad yelled, “You better pick that up.” He didn’t care, no one owned the woods or the property beyond his own, he just didn’t want empty beer bottles lying around.
“What’s up, clone…” I said, lunging toward him.
Before I had a real chance to prepare myself, Seth and I were rolling around in the driveway. We were slipping in and out of holds the other would try to put on. We would wrestle until someone tapped, or we were both just strained to exhaustion.
Once we were covered in grass stains, dirt, and minor scrapes, my mom stuck her head out the front door, “Supper’s ready.”
It sounded just like it used to when she would call out there when we were kids to get Sara, Sidney, Seth, and I back inside for the night.
After a long night of wrestling, drinking, and eating, Seth, Dad, and I were sitting outside by the grill, which had turned into a makeshift campfire. The night was calm, and the heat of the coals warmed us as we talked about work, friends, and anything else that came to mind.
"I love you boys," Dad said, his voice soft and slightly slurred from the beer. "I know I don't say it enough, but I just want you to know how proud I am of both of you, and the men you've become."
"Love you too, Dad," I replied.
"Seth, I'm very proud of the father you've become. And Sam, whatever happens for you and Vicky, I know you're a good man and you'll be a great dad someday too." His voice wavered slightly, and I figured it was the beer talking. "I remember when you were little, how much I loved y’all and wanted to take care of y’all. Now, seeing your families, how you treat them, and your work ethic... it just makes me really proud of you two."
We sat there, the fire casting flickering shadows on our faces, the unspoken bond between us stronger than ever. It was a quiet moment of shared understanding and unvoiced affection, the kind that didn’t need any more words. Plus we were all getting pretty tore up with how much we’d all been drinking, so I was also just trying to maintain my balance.
They asked if we were going to have kids any time soon. I had previously told them about what we had talked about but let them know that we were trying for one. Dad was excited, he loved all his grandkids and only wanted more.
At the end of the night, we all said our goodbyes, I hugged all my sisters, brothers, nieces, nephews, and both my parents. We all saw each other and did these kinds of things frequently enough that I didn’t think to do anything more than just a regular goodbye.
Vicky and I were back in the truck on our way home. The fun and excitement from our time with my family had been enough to distract her. It wasn’t until we made it home she realized something.
“Shit,” she said as soon as we pulled into our driveway.
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“What,” I asked.
“I forgot to stop and get the pregnancy test,” she growled. “And you didn’t get one when you were in the gas station mister!” She pointed her little finger at me accusingly.
“There was this guy… he was creeping me out. I got distracted!” I pleaded with mock distress.
“Excuses, excuses,” she shook her head as she walked inside.
“Eh, don’t worry about it. The test isn’t going to change if you are or aren’t,” I said. I was buzzed, but not three sheets to the wind. “You remember what you said earlier?”
“What?” she asked, looking into the mirror at me lying diagonally across our bed.
“To try again…”
“You’re too drunk,” she dismissed.
“Bullshit,” I brushed off. “I could teach college algebra right now.”
She chuckled, “You don’t even know high school algebra, you idiot,” as she walked over to the bed.
I reached out for her arm and pulled her on top of me.
“You better not waste my time,” she jabbed.
“What a slap in the face,” I laughed, rolling her into the sheets.
----------------------------------------
“Sam” was the first thing I heard through the darkness of my alcohol-induced sleep.
I rustled around in the bed for a moment or two.
“Sam… did you hear that?” Vicky asked.
I sat up, “What are you talking about?”
“That crash outside, it sounds like someone’s out there,” she urged, fear creeping through her sleepy mind.
“It’s probably nothing…”
“Can you please go check it out, I won’t be able to sleep if you don’t.”
“Yeah, I’ll go…” I said, not happy that I had to get out of the warm blankets.
I picked my crumpled pants back up from the floor and pulled them back on. I slid my feet across the wood floor, feeling around for my shoes. Once I found them, I located my hoodie since I knew it was going to be even colder outside. I grabbed my phone for a flashlight and the .357 magnum out of the closet for backup.
I ambled through the darkness of our warm house to the sliding door in our kitchen. I passed through it, closing the door behind me as I ventured out into the world behind our house. My eyes were well adjusted to the darkness so I could see well enough in our backyard with the way the moon hung in the sky. I put my phone in my pocket since I didn’t need the light yet.
I couldn’t hear anything unusual, so I just started making my way to the only thing behind our house, the large workshop-tool shed I had back there. It was about twenty yards from our back door, nestled in the lush grass of the backfield, and smashed right up on the woods behind our property line. The old rusty sheet metal structure was quite large and vacant, but I used it quite a bit for home projects.
I held the gun loosely in my grip, not expecting anything to be wrong. We lived in a more rural area that was isolated compared to the usual parts of Dallas. I thought it was probably just a deer or something. Yet I still kept the gun in hand, because you never knew what was lurking just beyond the woods. It was vast and teaming with life.
I immediately noticed something was wrong—the side door was standing wide open. I stopped dead in my tracks, my heart beginning to pound in my chest. The sight sent a chill down my spine, a creeping sense of dread that crawled up my neck like an icy hand. The fear was subtle at first, a mere tickle of unease, but it quickly surged into a sharp jolt of terror. Just as swiftly, the intensity faded, leaving me with a lingering sense of foreboding.
I stood there, rooted to the spot, analyzing the situation. The door swayed gently in the evening breeze, casting erratic shadows on the ground. My mind raced through the possibilities. Maybe I hadn’t closed it properly, or I forgot to lock it in my rush. It could have been a simple oversight, an accident. A gust of wind might have blown it open.
But as I stood there, staring at the open door, the familiar comfort of my home felt suddenly alien and threatening. The usual sounds of the neighborhood, distant laughter, the hum of a lawnmower, the chirping of crickets all seemed muted, overshadowed by the oppressive silence emanating from within.
Taking a deep breath, I steeled myself. Slowly, I approached the door, each step feeling heavier than the last. The door's hinges creaked softly as I pushed it further open, the sound echoing eerily in the stillness. I peered inside, straining to see if anything looked out of place. The dim light from the hanging moon cast long, eerie shadows across the entry, making everything look unfamiliar and strange.
I scanned the entry interior, searching for any signs of disturbance. tools appeared untouched, no obvious signs of a break-in. Yet, the open door gnawed at my nerves, an unsettling anomaly in the otherwise tranquil scene.
I swallowed hard, the dry lump in my throat refusing to go down. Cautiously, I stepped inside, every creak of the floorboards beneath my feet sounding like a thunderclap in the silence. I reached for the light switch, my fingers brushing against the cool plastic before flicking it on. The sudden brightness was both a relief and a shock, revealing the familiar surroundings of my shed, but the sense of unease lingered, like a shadow that refused to be dispelled by the light.
Maybe it was nothing. Maybe it was just the wind. But as I stood there, the nagging doubt remained, a whispering voice in the back of my mind, warning me that something was not quite right.
I started walking again, making my way deeper inside. As soon as I was about five feet in, it began to smell… weird. It didn’t smell like sawdust or the freshly cut wood I was accustomed to. It was a metallic odor. I scrunched up my nose as I continued, the smell getting stronger the deeper I went. Once I reached the largest and most central area of the barn, I froze, paralyzed by the horrifying sight before me. A whitetail deer lay torn to pieces, its body pulled apart like a gruesome scene from a horror film. Sawdust clumped together with pooled blood in various spots on the weathered, uneven floor. The blood was everywhere, staining the hardwood floors, splattered across nearly every surface, and clinging to the mangled fur of the deer. One of its antlers was shattered halfway down, leaving only a three- to four-inch shaft protruding from its skull.
As I stood there, my initial haze of fear began to lift, replaced by a grim curiosity. I forced myself to examine the details. The most substantial piece of the deer’s body, its neck and chest, had been ripped open, exposing raw flesh and sinewy tissue. Massive claw marks marred its side, the rough, shredded edges of the wounds lined with torn, ragged tissue. The buck’s face was frozen in a permanent state of terror, eyes wide and glassy, mouth open in a silent scream. Whatever had killed it had done so quickly and brutally.
I couldn't help but wonder how the deer had gotten inside. What had done this to it? And more importantly, was the predator still inside the barn with me?
The acrid smell of blood and death hung heavily in the air, mingling with the familiar scents of hay and wood. I could hear the distant drip of blood pooling and then dripping off the carcass onto the floor, each drop sounding like a macabre metronome in the otherwise silent barn.
I scanned the area, my heart pounding in my chest. The barn, usually a place of refuge and familiarity, now felt hostile. The beams of sunlight filtering through the cracks in the walls cast ominous shadows, and every creak of the wooden structure seemed amplified, setting my nerves on edge.
I took a tentative step forward, my foot crunching on the sawdust and blood-soaked floor. I reached out to touch the torn hide of the deer, my fingers trembling. The fur was matted and sticky, the flesh beneath it cold and lifeless. I pulled my hand back quickly, the reality of the situation sinking in deeper.
Something powerful and deadly had been here, something that could easily turn its wrath on me. My mind raced with possibilities. Was it a bear, a mountain lion, or something more sinister, something I couldn't even begin to comprehend?
I needed to get out of there, to alert someone, but my legs felt like lead, rooted to the spot by a mix of fear and morbid fascination. I forced myself to move, taking slow, deliberate steps backward, my eyes never leaving the gruesome scene. Every instinct screamed at me to run, but I knew that moving too quickly could draw the attention of whatever had done this, if it was still lurking nearby.
Reaching the door, I finally turned and bolted, the barn door slamming shut behind me with a loud bang that echoed in the still air. My breath came in ragged gasps as I stumbled outside.
As I regained my composure, the questions still haunted me: How had the deer gotten in? What had killed it? And, most terrifying of all, was it still out there, watching and waiting for its next victim?
“Fuck this…” I said to myself. I was an adult, but I was freaked out. Something just didn’t seem right. It wasn’t normal… the brutality of it all.
I hoped that whatever killed the deer was still in there somewhere. Hopefully, it would be trapped until someone else could get there.
I walked with purpose towards the safety of the house. I felt like a helpless kid running away from a bad dream, but what I saw was like nothing I had ever seen before. What could have ripped that animal to pieces and spread its blood over every inch of the place? It didn’t seem natural.
I needed to get to Vicky. I needed to warn her and keep her safe.
I heard a loud crash behind me that made me jerk my head back in terror. It sounded like the shed had just exploded. When I looked back, the door that I had just locked was missing from the frame entirely. I saw a glimpse of something shiny that might have once been a door lying some fifty yards away in the thick grass.
Something moved across the dark area in a rush, too fast for my eyes to fully identify. All I could determine from the quick glance was that whatever streaked out of the shed was big. It disappeared into the strip of trees behind our house, and into the shadows of the night.
I froze in the middle of a yard. I didn’t know what was happening. It wasn’t like any animal I had ever seen before. It was too fast. I could hear its heavy feet pounding into the ground with every step.
I bolted for the house, trying not to think about anything except running. I ran hard, and when my legs felt like they were moving as fast as possible, I willed them to move even quicker. Fear swarmed my mind. The only thing I could hear was the sound of my own labored breathing from the adrenaline and the intense focus I had on pumping my arms and legs through the grass.
I was just ten feet from the kitchen door, so close I could almost taste the safety of the inside. But before I could reach it, something hit me with a force that felt like it had come from nowhere. The impact was sudden and brutal. A searing pain shot through my right arm as something slammed into my side, breaking bones and sending me sprawling through the backyard.
I was thrown violently, my body crashing into the grass at the far end of the yard. I rolled and tumbled, dirt and clumps of earth smearing across my face and grinding into my skin. Each jarring roll and tumble made my broken arm throb with an unbearable ache. The impact had knocked the breath out of me, leaving me gasping and disoriented.
Despite the pain radiating from my shattered arm and the agony of being flung through the air, I forced myself to my feet. My arm hung uselessly at my side, cradled tightly to minimize the pain. I didn’t think about where I was going; I only knew that I had to keep moving. Adrenaline surged through my veins, dulling the edge of the pain and driving me forward.
I ran blindly, my path taking me toward the dense woods that lined the south side of our property. I hadn’t consciously chosen to head into the forest, but my legs carried me deeper into the shadowy embrace of the trees. Panic overtook me and I stopped thinking. I just had to run. The forest was a dark, foreboding expanse, and as I plunged deeper, the underbrush and low-hanging branches lashed at me, scratching and scraping my skin. The oppressive darkness of the forest closed in around me, making every shadow seem like a lurking threat.
In my frantic flight through the trees, I glimpsed something out of the corner of my eye—something fast and ominous. A cloaked figure stood perched on a jagged outcrop of rocks, silhouetted against the dim light filtering through the canopy. It was an unsettling presence, silent and menacing, watching me as I fled. The figure seemed almost ethereal, its dark cloak blending into the gloom of the forest. But as soon as I turned to look directly at it, the figure vanished. One moment it was there, the next, it was gone, leaving only the whisper of the forest’s eerie silence.
Suddenly, a searing heat ripped across my back, and I was thrown through the air again. The force of the blow sent me careening into the trees. I crashed down a steep, downhill slope, my body tumbling end over end through the thick foliage. The earth and leaves smacked against me with each violent roll, each impact jolting my already bruised and battered body. I could barely register the pain, too overwhelmed by the sheer force of the descent.
My descent ended abruptly when my head struck a large, immovable boulder rooted deeply in the ground. The cold, hard stone met my skull with a sickening crunch, and in that instant, everything went black.
----------------------------------------
My eyes flew open. Questions rushed my mind.
How long had I been there unconscious? Where was the thing I was running from? Was any of it real?
I tried to stand, pushing up from the ground. My right arm gave under pressure, and I flopped back down. I lay on the ground and wiped the back of my hand across my face. When I looked at my hand, it was smeared with a dark red fluid. I was bleeding out and bad. I reached back with the same hand and touched the stinging strips across my back. My shirt was shredded, and my burning skin was ripped open. I couldn’t see any of it, but I knew it was terrible from just the pain. I felt woozy, lightheaded, and tired.
The realization of my own body being fucked up made me want to shut down and faint. I looked in between my legs, to the ground, and breathed through the feeling. I tried to will myself to my feet
I tasted blood. I spit on the rock that was already painted with my own blood and saw more crimson. It raced down over the drying blood that was already caked on the rock. I had to get out of there, but I was beginning to think I didn’t have it in me, too much blood loss.
Then, flashes of Vicky flew across my mind. I saw her perfect face telling me to get up, I felt like I could smell her like she was right in front of me. She was as clear as day. I had to fight to get back to her, we had so many plans, and I couldn’t let this happen to me. I loved her, and I couldn’t let this be my end… our end.
I listened to the memory of my sweet wife and willed myself up off the ground. I used my good arm to get my body vertical. My legs were wobbly but holding. The sprinting had taken a lot out of them. I held myself up against a tree with my left arm, my right arm held tight against my side. As soon as I was fully standing, I could feel the hot blood ooze and drip down my body. It was warm as it ran down my back and face. I didn’t care how much blood I had lost. I was going to make it. I pushed off the tree and started walking. I had no direction in mind; I just needed to move.
I was only a couple of steps from the tree when I heard a slow, deliberate set of footsteps approaching. Each step hit the ground with a heavy thud, resonating with an oppressive weight that suggested whatever was making the noise was far larger and stronger than me. My body froze, paralyzed by the growing sense of dread. I managed to turn my head slightly, barely able to glimpse what was coming.
Before I could fully react, a massive hand closed around my throat with a crushing grip. The strength of the hand was overwhelming, like nothing I had ever experienced before. Its size dwarfed my own hand, and the pressure against my neck was immediate and unrelenting. The hand felt like iron, cold and unyielding, with dark, almost black claws that dug into my flesh.
I was lifted off the ground, my feet dangling helplessly. The creature's claws pressed painfully into my neck as it slammed me into the rough bark of the tree. The impact jarred my body, and I felt the bark scrape painfully against my back. I tried to reach out with my one functional hand, grabbing at the creature's iron-like wrist in a desperate attempt to pry its grip away. My fingers fumbled and slipped, the sheer force of its hold making it nearly impossible to break free.
As I struggled, I forced myself to look up into the creature’s face for the first time. The dim light filtering through the dense canopy barely illuminated its features, but I could make out enough to see that it resembled a man of terrifying proportions. He stood nearly eight feet tall, his massive frame bulging with muscle. His body was stocky and imposing, probably weighing close to four hundred pounds.
The creature's face was a nightmarish vision. His skin blended into the shadows, stretched taut over a grotesque visage. Jagged fangs jutted menacingly from both his upper and lower jaws, their points glistening in the faint light. The rest of his teeth were equally unnerving, sharp and irregular, more suited to a predator than a man.
But it was his eyes that were the most horrifying. They were solid black orbs, devoid of any hint of color. There were no whites, no blues, browns, or greens; just an impenetrable void where eyes should have been. They seemed to bore into mine with an intensity that was both eerie and terrifying. Their darkness reflecting a bottomless abyss. The sight of those eyes made my blood run cold, as if I was staring into the very essence of darkness itself.
He jerked forward, and I felt a sharp pain in my right shoulder. I tried to move my head to look, but it was no use. He had me pinned against the tree like a nasty car crash.
A wave of sleep started to rush over me. I felt tired, and I couldn’t keep my eyes open. The world around me began to fade, and then Vicky came back to the front of my mind. She was my life, and this was my life flashing before my eyes. I thought about fighting the need to sleep, but I had no fight left. I was broken, bloody, and on the verge of death. I felt the thing’s teeth bite down harder into my neck and shoulder, and then, a few seconds later, everything started going black.
As the last flicker of light began to fade from my vision, a disorienting presence enveloped me. My senses, already dulled by the intense pain and the overwhelming fear, were further diminished by the encroaching dread. Through the murkiness that swallowed me, I caught a final glimpse of the cloaked figure I had seen earlier, perched ominously on the jagged rocks. It stood at a distance, a dark silhouette against the backdrop of horror.
The figure's presence seemed to loom larger as the light waned, its cloak billowing like a shadowy shroud. Though it was far away, an unsettling sense of proximity clung to the air, as if the figure were standing right beside me. I could feel its gaze even in my compromised state, heavy and watchful, pressing down upon both me and the dark beast.
Then, from the depths of the darkness came a voice. A deep, resonant, and profoundly foreboding voice. It cut through the silence with a chilling clarity, as if the words were spoken directly into my ear despite the distance. The voice was like a growl from the abyss, reverberating with an otherworldly resonance that seemed to echo from every corner of the darkened forest.
“Fall,” it said, the single word imbued with a dreadful weight. The command was simple, yet it carried a suffocating gravity that filled the space with an eerie tension. The voice was not merely heard but felt, vibrating through my bones, sending a shiver down my spine. The utterance seemed to hang in the air, stretching out into the dark void, its meaning both immediate and profound.
As the last remnants of light slipped away, and my senses were enveloped in the oppressive gloom, the voice’s command reverberated through my mind, mingling with my fading consciousness. The figure’s dark form, now a mere shadow in the distance, remained a haunting specter of dread, its presence an unspoken threat in the enveloping darkness.