Not All Terrors Are Found in the Woods

The red glow of the traffic lights illuminated the raindrops on the window of our car, turning them into glowing spheres of ruby like crystallized blood drops. The late October sky, painted with shades of pink and gold, glowed overhead. The warm Florida air rendered me sleepy and dazed. We’d been driving for hours, and I was just dozing off.

“Evelyn? You okay back there?” The voice of my father jolted me back to reality.

“Um . . . yeah.” My voice sounded troubled, even to my ears.

He doesn’t look convinced, but he drops the subject.

I glance out the window, glimpsing a blurry shape zigzagging across the lanes of the traffic. Many people honk their horns angrily.

“What’s that?” I say, a bit of a quiver in my voice. The stars twinkle cheerfully above me, can almost convince me that this is a perfect night near the Everglades. Almost.

My mother frowns. “Maybe an animal? You don’t really think these cryptid things are real, do you? Maybe it’s one of those.” She smiles back at me playfully.

Cold, dead hands creep down my spine. “I don’t know. Anything could be out there.”

“But I’m sure it’s nothing.” She smiles, as if that clears it all up.

Someone slowly walks onto the road. It’s a man in a bright reflective vest, waving for my dad to go onto a separate lane. There’s a long row of cars ahead, metal gleaming under cold moonlight.

“That’s odd.” My dad jerks his thumb in the direction of people exiting their cars and speaking to more of the road workers. “Evelyn,” He fixes me with a frighteningly intense stare; the kind that could freeze water to ice. “-don’t leave the car. Under any circumstance.”

Perhaps it really is something. Something dangerous.

The road worker from before wanders over, twin beams of silver from our headlights bouncing off his vest. My mother’s face is distraught. Several times during their talk my dad puts his hand on her shoulder, and several times they both glance back at our car.

I crack open the window, interested in their conversation.

“Tonight-”

“Evelyn-”

“How many are dead?”

I may have only caught fragments, but I heard that last sentence clear enough. I collapse across the back seats, my heart making the slow ascent up my throat. Dead?

After what seems like half an hour, my parents get back in the car, and my dad starts it wordlessly. The line has dissipated now, like a flock of birds leaving one by one.

“What hotel are we staying at?” The words slide from my mouth before I can stop them. I already know the answer, but I need to pretend I didn’t hear those words. To forget.

“You know, we’ll have to change.” My dad gives a pained smile. “Construction and all that.”

We drive in silence for the next few minutes before my dad pulls in at a rickety wooden shack, so close to the swamp I can see twisted, bone-white cypress trees. Twigs bob eerily in the cold wind like finger bones, beckoning me into the darkness.

“This is the hotel?” I ask skeptically.

“Yep!” My mom hopped out of the car.

I can only stare in silence.

My dad closes the door with a dramatic slam, cutting off the rest of my words.

My heartbeat feels like it must be shaking the ground now with each gargantuan thump, but I extract myself from the back seat and scurry after my parents.

“And . . . ta da!” My dad opens the door of the place. It’s a surprisingly cozy place, with white rugs with a pretty red design. The fire cackles, nestled amongst the white cypress branches. Scarlet candles adorn the mantlepiece, which is also bone-white wood.

“The bedrooms are down the left hall,” My mother smiles. “We’ll be back in a few minutes.”

This has got to be the most boring hotel we’ve ever stayed in. I lay back in my bed, the sheets tan and rubbery beneath my legs. But there’s something unnatural about them. Wrong.

“It’s been hours.” I mutter to myself. “Where are they?”

A scream rips through the air.

I leap out of bed and sprint down the hall, my feet sliding on the carpets. I’m halfway to the door when I crash into a table that was invisible in the murky darkness. The thrill of terror fuels my adrenaline, blocking all exhaustion, muting all pain.

I snatch the flashlight from the counter and flick it on, a thin cobweb of light bouncing around the room. Nothing.

Then the door rattles furiously, and all of my hopeful thoughts disappear along with my confidence. I dash back to my room, hurling open the closet. I stuff myself inside, my heartbeat louder than an elephant’s footsteps. Pure icy terror paralyzes my limbs, seeming to stop my heart.

Hands close around the closet handle. I tremble, barely daring to breathe, fear clasping its cold hands around my throat to stifle a scream.

Then, with a muffled grunt, the hands vanish. I creak open the closet door ever so slightly, just enough to see through the slit.

The thing is hunched over. It dragged itself around the roof on shuffling feet, holding two bodies. As I watch, it stuffs them under the bed and leaves.

The moment its shape flees the room, I dart for the bed. Squeezing under, I glance sideways at the things.

A scream erupts from my throat.

Oh, god. My parents.

Screwing up my eyes, I sob, pleading for this nightmare to end. The thing comes back into the room, great raking hands snatching at me. They find me. I see the thing, finally.

I don’t want to die.

The next day, I put more fuel into the fireplace, harvested new sheets for the beds, and redid the faded carpets.

They found that little girl Evelyn the same day, boneless, skinless, and completely drained of blood.