Dark black and gray blankets cover a hidden subfloor access. The substructure was lined with pillows throughout the hollowed-out base of the space. A 15-year-old Chinese-Caucasian teenager named Emilee laid awkwardly with her sister, 9-year-old Josie, playing cards in the confined space.
[https://storage.googleapis.com/rocky-production/story_images/big_5027601e551a0ea4dea2d4db161e3ba5.jpg](Image credit: [Emilee and Josie] Gencraft AI prompt generated]
They were on edge, jittery at the nearest sound. The girls were doing what they could despite the stifling tension clawing into the confined earthy chamber. They were startled by the landing of plastic shopping bags thrown into the space. Will, a 34-year-old Caucasian guy with a dad-bod, swiftly army crawled after the bags. His movements were urgent, fueled by a combination of fear and determination in the face of the unfolding horror outside. Will’s expression could not hide the stress waging war with his exhaustion.
[https://storage.googleapis.com/rocky-production/story_images/big_6c62c552aa9a1e22ff857d577ceb331c.jpg](Image credit: [Will] Gencraft AI prompt generated]
“They didn’t have pizza, so I hope Vienna sausage is okay,” he said to his two daughters. Despite the grim circumstances and the need to hide for their lives, Will attempted to maintain a semblance of normalcy, cracking a joke with his witty dad humor. However, he attempted to mask the tremble of his voice.
“Dad?” Emilee whispered, her voice carrying a mixture of fear and uncertainty. “Where’s mom?”
Will, almost completely inside the dirt hole, avoided eye contact, focusing on the immediate task at hand. “You two need to eat. I’ll go out and get something to drink later.”
The girls, their expressions marked by panic, tears welling in their eyes, implored him for more answers. He said this and tried to divert their thoughts. “I can make it to the grocery store. I don’t think many—”
Suddenly, a jolt of terror disrupted his words. Something grasped his ankle, sending a chilling shiver down his spine. Panic surged through his chest as his mind raced, and in that moment of sheer horror, the girls’ piercing screams shattered the air, amplifying the nightmarish atmosphere.
A gnarled hand, skeletal and twisted, latched onto his quivering leg with an iron grip, refusing to let go. Desperation consumed him as he instinctively lashed out with a frenzied kick in a desperate bid for freedom. Yet, his struggles seemed futile against the malevolent force that held him captive.
The furred hand, its grotesque digits like razored talons, sank deeper into the tender flesh of his leg, puncturing and tearing with sadistic delight. Agony surged through his body, intertwining with the rising panic. Emilee, her own fear eclipsed by fierce determination, seized Will’s trembling arms, and yanked with all her might, but it was an uneven battle, a cruel contest of strength.
With an unforgiving force, the matted furry arm yanked him, like a puppet being drawn into the clutches of a monstrous puppeteer. Will’s anguished yell filled the air, a symphony of pure terror. Amidst the chaos, a haunting mewing sound resonated, an eerie blend of feline and human wails, infusing the night with a sense of otherworldly horror.
As abruptly as it had begun, the nightmarish grip released its hold. Gasping for breath, Will stumbled backward, a wild frenzy in his eyes. His primal instinct propelled him to shield his precious daughters, whisking them away from the encroaching darkness. Yet, the sinister encounter took its toll. His leg, now a canvas of crimson, bore witness to the harrowing ordeal that had unfolded, a chilling reminder of the evil lurking in the shadows.
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The mewing grew louder. Then it stopped. The sound of a scuffle. Crunching and a wet crack. Something slammed into the outside wall. The land grew quiet.
A woman’s hand appeared in the crawl space opening. On her arm, a stylized owl with piercing eyes looked as if it would leap from her skin at any moment.
Lángrén, a 35-year-old Chinese American woman, splattered with blood, drizzled on her face, and with a lithe body, scurried into the cramped space.
[https://storage.googleapis.com/rocky-production/story_images/big_43e84a6a9ece1e1e64e89d374902b059.jpg](Image credit: [Lángrén] Gencraft AI prompt generated]
“Mom?” Emilee’s voice intermingled with worry, fear, and hope.
“It’s okay. We’re okay.”
Will, still wary from the recent encounter, handed Lángrén a baby wipe. She looked lackluster and exhausted as she wiped away the grime and untied her ponytail, long hair flowed out.
Lángrén ran a hand over her baby bump, questioning. Emilee slid to Lángrén and hugged her tightly.
“What’s going on?” Emilee whispered into Lángrén’s chest.
Lángrén looked up at Will. “It’s a long story.” The low sunlight slinks past the blankets to cast a vertical line of sunshine over Lángrén’s face as she recounts her tale. Her voice, normally so soft and soothing, was now laced with a tremor of powerful emotions. Swirling undertones wavered between strength and vulnerability, carrying the weight of unspoken pain and unresolved emotions. Her eyes, windows to a tumultuous history, revealed a complex mix of sorrow, determination, and traces of the wounds that time hadn’t completely healed.
Will steeled himself. His face shows he’s heard, and been through, more than any normal person should have. He hangs on with a fortitude supplied by his love for Lángrén. “We’d love a good fireside story.” Will stated as he settled in, rubbing his injured ankle.
Lángrén locked eyes with Will. He smiled with love. A look of ‘we got this’ written all over. Her facial expressions were a canvas for the emotional landscape of her memories. A subtle furrow of her brows conveyed the depth of the emotional scars she bore. The family settled in. Lángrén repacked the entry with dirt, sealing them in save for the two rusted pipes that allowed air to circulate in. She laid Will’s wounded leg across her lap and began first aid. Her voice felt calm and strong as she spoke. “When the world was young, two people made a terrible choice and lost their home. The owner sent a guard to prevent their return and remained there until the owner changed his mind. But the sentinel wasn’t without mercy. Knowing the dangers of being away from home, he called a wolf pack. Seven noble wolves. He charged them to protect the people. If there was danger that would end the two lives, the wolves would come forth. To protect.”
Will and the daughters sat riveted by her tale. “They lived to serve. There was this beautiful garden with waters so clear that if it wasn’t moving, you would not even see it. The air was a witness to a young world. The wolf pack was majestic. When the guard called the pack, they came and quietly assembled as the guard with his sword appeared. The flames on the fiery sword danced, licking the air, but not burning anything. Now, each wolf was full of grace and power. Together they were warriors. As the world watched, the wolves lowered themselves, submitting with a symbolic gesture. The wolves saw that when the guard moved, the footsteps left trails of dust that glowed like lava and the sun. Her husband never got tired of listening to this historical story. As if she were standing there herself, Lángrén stared off into the distance.
“Time to time, the children of the two exiled and banished fought among themselves. Outside threats grew in their distraction. Dark. Malevolent. Sinister creatures. Born without the ability to understand or relate to the emotions and suffering of others. Fanatical extremism harbored deep resentment for something they did to themselves, but wanted to inflict hurt and pain on others. The noble wolves gathered and fought the dark nights. You see, the wolves were wise. Cunning. They had a lot of patience, like your dad.”