We all screamed our lungs out like sissies. The smell of urine invaded my nose. I looked down, surprised it was not my own.

The projector flickered, causing the sand sphinx to sputter in and out of existence. With each flicker, the beast drew closer, like a lethal game of flashlight tag.

Terror overwhelmed my entire being, rooting me in place. Everything inside of me wanted to flee, but I stiffened like a mummified corpse.

Without warning the projector sputtered a few times before shutting off altogether, leaving us and the movie screen in near absolute darkness. Even the moonlight seemed to dwindle.

Seconds of silence passed. I began to doubt what I saw. It was a trick of light. Or the projector broke. Or this film director had invented a new way to terrorize audiences. I half expected Old Man Mao to charge us with a shotgun and spook us off his property. I prayed that maybe he’d turned the tables on us and scared us straight with a good prank.

The pounding of heavy paws shook the grass and gravel beneath my sneakers. It was no prank.

Before any of us uttered a word the projector beamed back to life. Instead of the movie resuming, a white screen glowed with the telltale black spot of the film cue in the top right hand corner.

The sphinx emerged from the shadows, illuminated by the projector light, much closer, and much more than a movie prop.

Without the trespassers within the film to hunt, we were the only trespassers that remained.

Like an embalmed pharaoh in a coffin, I could not move.

Reynard’s chide from Herman’s Gully hit me in the gut.

Afraid your mom’s gonna need to plan another funeral?

No. I didn’t want my mom to suffer anymore. She’d already lost my dad. It had not even been a whole year yet. Plus, how could my mom have a decent funeral for me if they didn’t find my body after the sand monster consumed me?

And there was Curtis to worry about. Who’d be his friend if I was gone? Who would bring him comics and Bud’s Burgers when he was down? I needed to make it through this for my best bud Curtis’ sake too.

Somehow, I conjured up the courage to speak. “Guys. Run!”

One by one, us boys dove through the hole. We mounted our bikes and were almost off when Reynard cried out in horror. “Where’s my dog?”

Our eyes darted in every direction, but he was nowhere.

Barking from the other side of the fence told us that the corgi had decided to challenge the beast.

“We gotta leave,” I screamed.

“No,” said Reynard. He dropped his bike and dove for the hole.

The corgi’s head popped out. Reynard sighed with relief.

Only half of the little dog had made it through when it stopped and howled, its little paws digging in the dirt trying to find something to hold onto.

Reynard grabbed his corgi by the front paws and tugged. A terrible snarl sounded from the other side of the plastic panels. The whole fence shook.

The corgi popped out of Reynard’s grasp and disappeared. Snarls turned into bone-crushing wet chomps. The corgi was a goner. We’d be next if we didn’t leave.

Without waiting for the other guys, I jumped on my Sting-Ray. I dared to glance over my shoulder and found the other boys following me. But their bikes boasted newer designs. Soon they overtook me, only to leave me in the dust.

In the receding distance, I could hear the fence crumple like foil. The sphinx finished its snack and wanted dinner. And I was next in line.

Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

Blindly following the other guys, it wasn’t until we passed the cemeteries, sped through an alleyway, and left the housing behind that I realized where we were going. Up ahead, a line of trees loomed like a natural gateway into the sparse forest. Reynard led the way and likely didn’t have a plan. His gut reaction had sent him on the most familiar path home, through Herman’s Forest.

The moon and streetlights had guided us this far, but once in the forest we’d be blinder than bats. We flipped our mounted flashlights on. The battery-powered beam created two walls of darkness on either side of me with a narrow sliver of light to follow the trail.

But then, my shoelace snagged in my bike chain, sending me sprawling. My body smacked into a tree. All of the wind rushed out of me. Forgetting my shoelace was tangled, I stood and tripped again. The distance between me and the guys stretched until they were out of sight.

The ground shook as the sand sphinx barrelled down the trail, mere breaths away from me.

Tears sprinted down my face. With a violent jerk, I ripped my shoelace free and ditched my sneaker.

Back on my bike, I retreated down the dirt trail as fast as I could, despite the sting of the pedal biting into my foot through my sock. My pedals revolved so fast, I thought my chain might break. Down, down, down the trail I descended. Gravity overtook my Sting-Ray, but still I moved too slow.

Snapping twigs, cracking branches, and exploding trees attacked my ears. I dare not glance over my shoulder again, even for an instant. The sand sphinx would catch me, claw me open, and fill me with endless grains until I ended up like the victims in the movie. Or worse, like the corgi.

I was on a collision course with the gully jump. If I wanted to escape, I only had two options, neither one stellar. Option one? Get to the bottom of the trail and follow the trail as it turned parallel to the gully, then hike upstream until I could cross the footbridge with my bike. No doubt, that’s what Reynard and the guys had done. But that would take way too long. And I’d have to fight gravity, pedalling uphill. My Sting-Ray wasn’t built like a BMX and I’d be fighting a losing battle with the sand sphinx close on my tail. That left option two. Attempt to jump the gully. And not like my sorry excuse of an attempt last time. It would have to be a final, everything-I-got, attempt. My short twelve-year-old life was riding on it. But my bike wasn’t built for jumps that big. I was starting to really hate my bike. My handlebar grips disintegrated in my iron grip. Blistered palms were inevitable if I survived.

My mind replayed the sickening snap of Curtis’ leg. Better that than being eaten alive.

If only the sphinx had some weaknesses. But even the adults in the movie had no weapon against it. They’d shot it with revolvers, rifles, and even waved a flaming torch at it. The only thing it seemed to hate was running water.

Running water.

Like the gully stream.

A small seed of hope sprouted in my chest.

I rounded the corner around the big oak tree. The jump stood mere feet away now. Resolve solidified in my chest. I was going to jump Herman’s Gully.

On the other side, I made out the three flashlights of Reynard, Todd, and Larry’s bikes. They must have remembered the beast’s weakness from the movie too. Or else dumb luck had led them there.

Josh Martin’s voice echoed in my head, replaying all of his advice. Hit it dead center, legs bent, pull your handles up, knees tucked in tight. Then pray.

My bike left the ramp like a NASA liftoff. Frigid night air filled my lungs. I crested the top of my flight. I yanked the bike up and close to my body. We were one, boy and bike, freedom and fear, fleeing and flying.

I’d done it. I was going to clear the gully jump.

Earth called me back down. My stomach shot up into my throat. I gritted my teeth and tried to spot my landing. My front tire touched down first. Control abandoned me. I flipped over the handlebars and rolled down the path.

My chest rose and fell as I awaited a terrible death by sand monster. The beast’s wicked roars bounced off of the trees, but it did not approach. Nor did I hear the dying screams of my fellow sixth-graders. Gathering my courage, I crawled to the edge of the gully with the other boys. The stream trapped the sand sphinx. It tried in vain to claw at the sides of the gully, but the current washed away large clumps of sand so that with each attempt the beast shrank in size.

For all its promise of death and destruction, the sand sphinx sifted downstream in less than a minute. The eerie feminine eye-sockets were the last thing to dissolve in the gully stream.

“You trapped it,” whispered Todd. “Gnarly.”

Reynard ran his hands through his hair. “I don’t believe it, Donut. You cleared the gully and killed the monster.”

“That was wicked sick,” said Larry.

I was so stoked, a nervous laugh arose from my gut. If only Curtis had been there to see it. And Dad too.

I slugged Reynard in the shoulder. “Eat that, dipstick.”

***

Things were different between me and the guys from then on. We’d survived an evil we could never explain to anyone. No one would ever believe us. Not even Curtis. But the undeniable evidence from that night lingered on. Like the unexplainable respect I’d earned from Reynard and the guys.

Years later, while cruising in my ‘81 AMC Eagle to visit my dad’s tombstone, I gathered up the courage to pass by the drive-in. The place had shut down. Old Man Mao had passed away, and drive-in theaters with him. Even as an adult, I shuddered at seeing the old lot, overgrown with weeds and frail screen showing nothing but ruin.

Above all, I’ll never forget clearing Herman’s Gully. It saved my life.

END