Drerys' Guest

Drery lowered the lantern to the glass and frame and then began to walk in the direction the old man had pointed. Blood spotted and streaked along the yard, marking a gory trail. The blood was fresh, so fresh they both could smell it and taste it in their lungs with every breath they took. From the initial loss of blood and the degree of injury, it couldn’t have gone far. Therefore, they followed the trail into the low-hanging mist that blanketed the wild grass and, eventually, the orchard. Mr. Drery stooped down, closer to the ground, and tried to get below the mist to keep sight of the trail. At one point they lost it, but the old man’s recollection brought them into the orchard and into a relatively clear patch of land. This is where the trail picked up again. Alongside a nearby tree was an allotted amount of blood. It must have hid out of fright and desperation from the old man’s firing. Tufts of hair also stuck to the skin of the tree, mixed with blood and jagged pieces of tree trunk. Upon closer investigation of this, Drery summoned the old man’s attention to something immensely surreal and frightening. There, just above the mass of blood and hair, was the blood stained impression of a human hand.

Palm. Wrist. Fingers. Everything.

To further the creature’s grotesque abnormalities, or even to invoke sympathy for it, the conclusion was now quite probable. This thing was once human or was trying to be.

The trail picked up once more not three feet from their gruesome discovery. Blood and even tufts of hair eventually led them outside the borders of the orchard and down a rugged and rocky trail that twisted behind a hillside and out of sight of the house and orchard. It appeared as though they had entered a ravine. They looked up to see that they had actually descended below the mist, which now hung just above them, suspended like clouds surrounding a mountain at some unreachable elevation. Soon, the two reached the bottom. The ground beneath their feet bubbled and gave in to their weight. With their visibility no longer hindered by the mist, the lantern was free to scan their surroundings unrestrained. It was then that they saw a trail that wasn’t blood, but footprints, or rather, paw prints cast into the moist earth and leading just out of the lantern’s reach.

They followed it as quickly as they could with the cold, damp earth sucking at their feet. Finally, the ground hardened and they regained their pace. The hardened ground had also, however, concealed the intruder’s footsteps and the presence of blood was no longer evident. But that didn’t matter when Mr. Drery held the lantern high to gain a bearing on this strange terrain and, in the process, revealed a damning clue.

There, before them, was the yawning mouth of a cave of certain undeniable horror. Jagged rocks and roots protruded out from along its border like the teeth of some primitive, soulless demon. The remains of decaying trees that guarded the sides of this nightmare stretched out their broken, twisted fingers, threatening to ensnare and seal any trespassers’ fate. Still, the two went on. They were too close to go back now. This needed to end here, now. They needed to know that it was dead. And for the sake of Drery’s little girl, he needed to know that Annie was okay. They stood at the mouth of the demon and looked inside. They shined the lantern into it, stood for a moment, and then entered. There, light was limited also. As Drery held the lantern in right hand, his left one groped the walls for support. In this process, he stuck his hand in something wet and then put the lantern to his hand. Blood. He shone the lantern where he had felt it and saw that it streaked along the cave’s wall. It clung to the loose dirt and imbedded rock and, as they followed it, disappeared around a distant corner.

As the two reached the corner where the cave walls veered left, the old man readied the rifle and himself. On the count of three they leaped around the corner, both ready to pounce and fire. But there was nothing but a slow and steady decline of cave floor. Another straightaway lay before them. They ventured down, but it didn’t take long until something other than the sound of their breathing and footsteps broke the still, subterranean air. The two halted in their advance, afraid to move for fear of detection, and listened. It sounded like breathing, but it was labored and thick. And in amongst it was the sound of faint hissing. The two readied themselves once more and moved slowly toward the sound.

They kept their breathing slow and shallow and their tread light as they approached where visibility was once more prominent and in that clearing, amongst roots, rock, and soil, lay the intruder that had entered little Madeline’s room. There lay the thing that had been passed off as legend, folklore, myth and nightmare. By sheer fright and curiosity The two moved slightly closer to examine this hideous thing that lay mortally wounded with one foot missing, its jagged stump still oozing blood. It was upon this examination did the strange fabric that was attached to the first tuft of hair make sense. This thing still wore the remnants of what appeared to be a flannel, long sleeve shirt, now held together by but hair and thread. To the old man’s surprise, the second time he fired had hit its mark as fresh blood also crept out of its side, matting its hair in a crimson hue. It was but a moment later did the thing jerk, yowl and hiss at the two trespassers. The old man aimed at his head to fire when the creature went stiff, head landing on the cold, hard earth with a dull thud. The old man lowered the rifle and Mr. Drery examined the thing for a moment, looking for movement. But there was none. It was dead.

Mr. Drery then began to look for his daughter’s beloved Annie. There in the quarters in which the thing lay dead she was absent. Had it dropped her along the way to this horrendous place of refuge? His thoughts, however, were interrupted by the old man’s voice.

“Here, Drery, shine that light here, would ya?”

The old man peered into darkness, beyond a thin curtain of roots that hung from the roof. Drery obeyed and quickly came over to shine the lantern beyond them. They both entered and found themselves in a brief passage that soon opened up to another room. The lantern was now growing dim and sight started to decrease. Below their feet a familiar cave floor ceased and a strange, new one replaced it. As they stepped on this foreign floor, unseemly sounds arose as they advanced. It sounded like hollow rocks breaking and colliding against one another. A strange odor, too, dominated the room. It wasn’t damp, but warm and boasted a pungency they could not quite determine.

Mr. Drery stopped and lowered the lantern. Just then, he lost his balance and dropped it before his feet. Both men gasped.

There, before, all around and underneath the two men were bones. They covered the floor, littered all about, as if in some macabre display. Accumulations of all sorts of small things, domestic and wild, of all ages, shapes and sizes lay before the two as morbid reminders of the certainty of death. Dogs, cats, foul, sheep, goats, and a variety of unidentifiable beasts shared this tomb. Amidst this horror the two continued their search for Annie. And it wasn’t long, however, before Mr. Drery eventually found her lying amongst a loose assortment of skulls. One very much like what she might have in place of stuffing and thread. One that was sure to give its discoverers a few bad dreams of their own.

For there, sitting alongside Annie, was the aging skull of an eight-year-old girl.

END