Flynn barreled through the forest, running as fast as he possibly could. Behind him, cracking branches and breaking trees to get to him, was a (rapidly) shambling mass of mouths and eyes. Unfortunately, this time it wasn’t just a figment of Flynn’s imagination.

Perhaps owing to its numerous mouths, the creature kept releasing a constant stream of unearthly death screams as it chased Flynn. On the upside, the cacophony was a good way to measure how close the creature was to Flynn, but the freshly minted boy was not really in the proper state of mind to notice such things.

As Flynn sprinted through the forest as hard as he could, branches thwacked his face and body, his bare feet were cut by the ground, and roots threatened to trip him up. But he did not stop, adrenaline kept him going. Adrenaline and a dozen years worth of horror scenarios created by an overactive imagination, a good number of which were currently being fulfilled.

Flynn broke through a section of the forest, emerging on the bank of a rapidly flowing creek. Maybe if his body was still 23 he would have been able to ford it, but with his new child body it was quite likely that he would be dragged under by the current. Luckily for Flynn there was a large rock that juted from the center of the creek that was shaped like a large blunted stalagmite.

Without really stopping to consider his options, Flynn leaped for the rock. For a second, Flynn’s small body hung in the air before gravity once again reasserted its hold over him. He crashed into the slope of the rock chest first, driving the wind from his lungs.

Before Flynn could really collect his bearings after being dazed by the impact, two things happened. First, the rock underneath him began to shake and vibrate in an unsettlingly living way. Second, the shambling horror caught up to Flynn, leaping above the creek to tackle him straight off of the rock.

Flynn barely had enough time to leap to the other side of the creek before the rock split open into four fleshy flaps and lined with countless rows of sharp teeth and a gaping gullet. The creature that had been disguising itself as a rock leaped, snatching the shambling horror out of the air, its four fanged mouth flaps digging into the horror’s unprotected flesh.

Screams and growls echoed out as the two monsters clashed and the battle was suitably climatic. However, Flynn didn’t stick around to watch it, in fact he had never stopped running away.

This novel's true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.

Flynn did not know for how long he continued his mad dash through the forest, but by the time he stopped he was dripping with sweat and completely exhausted. He tried to lean against a tree to relax, but now every leaf rusted by the wind and distant animal cry were yet more horrors coming for his sweet, succulent man-flesh. Every single background noise caused Flynn to madly swivel his head about the place.

After nearly a minute of this, the only thing Flynn had managed to spot was a small 4 winged bird that flew away as soon as he set his eyes on it. Flynn’s nerves were fried, he knew he had to keep moving to avoid danger, but the path ahead was filled with the terrifying unknown. This was a world where monsters really did go bump in the dark.

Flynn knew he needed a hiding place, somewhere he could sequester himself away, regain some sense of safety, and calm down. He pushed himself off of the tree he had collapsed against and continued walking, not because he had gotten over his fear of what lay ahead, but because he was more afraid of what was behind him.

Flynn walked as carefully as he could, ensuring he did not step on a single stick, rustling as few leaves as possible. At one point, Flynn’s paranoia brought up the idea of being hunted via scent, so he immediately threw himself into the first puddle of mud he saw to mask his scent. While it may have helped calm his paranoia, the mud made walking through the forest even more miserable. The mud created friction in all the wrong places and made Flynn feel disgusting, but he believed that it was worth it if this was the price of not being eaten alive.

An indeterminate amount of time later, Flynn’s muscles were aching like crazy, his bare feet were sore, and his mind was over taxed from constantly being at full alert. Overhead, the sun had continued its path through the heavens and was approaching night. As Flynn continued to fret over what to do, he saw it, his salvation.

It was not much, just a small hollow partway up a larger than average tree. If Flynn still had his 23 year old body, he never would have fit. However, his new youthful body was more than small enough for Flynn to be able to wiggle in there.

With the desperation of a man who had just found a hole made just for him, Flynn scurried up the tree and sequestered himself in the hollow. Inside the hollow it was slightly damp, dark, musty, and covered in a bed of lichen.

Several fingernail sized spiders fled from their hideaways as he settled himself down, but Flynn knew spiders. In fact, it was more comforting to see such a familiar creature in a world with nothing but monstrosities so far.

Flynn let out a sigh of relief, sinking his back deeper into the hollow and letting his muscles relax one by one. As he did, fatigue finally hit him and his eyelids grew heavy. Flynn tried to stay awake to watch for monsters, but he could not resist his body’s natural urges. Flynn’s eyes closed and his head slumped back against the reassuringly solid tree around him.

For the first time in his life, Flynn did not have trouble falling asleep.