Crawl

The dried leaves produce the most satisfying crunching sound. The shadows of trees are etched across the forest floor as extended, contorting, fingers. The calm wind whistles through the cliffsides, offering a cool compliment to the sunshine. Dew seeps into the earth, providing a brisk touch and a moldy scent. Yet, the earth is drinking something else as well.

Blood, dark crimson in coloration and perfuming the air, the scent of it tainting the beautiful afternoon day, silencing the forest. Not by mere accident, but a peaceful day has been rendered false as a temporary flash of violence had struck quicker than a bolt of lightning.

“I have to move,” you thought to yourself “I can’t die here. Not to that mongrel!” Laying sprawled out on the ground, facing the clearing, the road's out in front of you, with the cliff face dropping down the other side. With a sprained ankle and a flesh wound in your gut, you begin to notice the several severed muscles that lie within your armpit. “How does something so skinny have so much strength, let alone precision?" Behind you, it feasts, the demonic cannibal of the forest. With eyes as yellow as a car's stained headlights, appearing as glass marbles, you were sure of yourself that this thing lacked whatever one might consider to be a soul.

You didn’t know it had teeth, “The damn thing’s lips are too small,” but you learned once it had smiled. When you and your friend initially saw it, you were shocked and horrified at the very sight of the creature. It's gaunt physique paired with its abnormally lanky limbs and phalangies only added to the horror. Sure, those soulless eyes might have bored a hole into your memory, but you'd never forget how you thought it was originally mouthless from the start.

Your childhood friend had protected you, taking the brunt of the assault. Who knew that those nails could fillet a person through a goose down jacket? Slowly, but urgently, trying not to jerk your body, you drag yourself through the foliage. With your knuckles turn white and your fingertips red with each and every grasp of the earth, you gain better locomotion once you start using your elbow. “Dead weight, that’s all my left arm is at the moment.” Still learn to be grateful, at least your wrist can still help you move.

Finally making it to the road, the sunlight's beaming, as if shining a strong laser right at your forehead, giving you all the more reason to sweat. You’re trying not to gasp for air, but your lungs burn from the expedition of twenty yards. “It doesn't care, this is all a game to it,” you mumble to yourself. The memory of it smiling while slashing wildly haunts you. You could’ve sworn the darn thing chuckled.

Struggling ten more feet in your journey across the dusty, clay, road, your sprained ankle's bled a trail. Leaning your head over the edge, your right arm clasps the rocks of the cliff face below. Glimpsing a ranger's cabin, you notice three people outside of it. Even lower, is a highway, the long black serpent leading to civilization. “If I survive this, I swear I'll hunt you till the ends of the earth,” you promised.

Not one to have believed in superstition let alone folklore or local legend, you still wished that you would've listened to your instincts. Sure, today might've seemed like a perfect day for a hike in the woods, but something always felt off about it. It was like one of those things that you could sense, but never identify. Thinking back to when the two of you had parked the car, sure the conversation may have been lively with smiles as wide as the sides of barns across your faces, but you knew deep down inside that something felt awry. If you hadn't listened to your grandpappy, you sure of hell wished that you would've listened to your gut.

Thinking back to one of the many tales that your grandfather had told you, the last two words from his bedtime story struck in your head. It wasn't just a precautionary tale meant to keep children out of the forest and from exploring alone, but it was a lesson in respecting your elders as well. Closing your eyes, a tear rolls down your cheek as if a sign of regret for all that you've done and all that you didn't do. Why didn't you listen to one of the wisest people in your life all because he said the name "Dover Demon."

“Lord,” you beg “please bless me with a painless descent.” Arching your back, rolling your tailbone over, you give way to the feeling of gravity.

You tumble.