Horror logo

Poachers Folly

Those who seek what isn't theirs may pay with more than money

By Justin ElliottPublished 2 years ago Updated 2 years ago 8 min read
1
Poachers Folly
Photo by Joshua Newton on Unsplash

The sun hadn’t begun to lighten the sky behind the Maya Mountains to the east as the truck slowed to a halt on the old forestry road. They were still over a kilometer from their final destination, the Chalillo Dam, but from this point they would continue without the truck.

The three men, Dante, Elonso, and Bastian, had set out from Arenal Village just after midnight that morning, a necessary step as they crossed the border into Belize under the cover of darkness. From there they hiked out to an old abandoned logging camp where they had a sturdy off-road capable truck hidden and drove the fourteen kilometers through the jungle, arriving well before dawn to set out once again on foot.

The reason for their caution was abundantly simple. The three of them were Xateros, a type of poacher seeking primarily Xate, the leaves of a particular palm tree, highly valued by florists worldwide, but foraged to non-existence in their home country of Guatemala. But these poachers were open to collecting anything that they could make a profit from, and today, instead of searching for palm fronds, they were looking to take several newly hatched Macaw chicks from nests that Dante had recently identified. Each chick could potentially sell for nearly $1000, but the poaching of Scarlet Macaw nests was rather more difficult than simply picking leaves.

In Belize, the Scarlet Macaw population was endangered and protected, and several parties patrolled the area that the birds nested in. But Dante and Bastian had been carefully watching the routines of both the Belize Bird Conservancy and the Friends for Conservation and Development and thought they could slip between the patrols early this morning and claim six, or perhaps even eight, chicks.

As they approached the Chalillo Dam, a dense fog began to creep across their path. A chilly rain had fallen the past two days, but this morning the temperature was already rising higher than it had been in over a week, and the juxtaposition of cold water of the Macal River and warming air was impeding their ability to see going forward. But these paths were well trod by the men, and they walked forward confidently into the fog cloud.

Soon though, they began to question their faith in the path ahead. They seemed less sure, lost in an area they had spent several days in. Elonso, the oldest of the three, turned to the others and asked nervously; “It is this way, correct?” He felt his heart sink when they both shook their heads ‘no’. But it got worse when Dante and Bastian both pointed in opposite directions, simultaneously saying, “It's this way.” Seeing the other pointing in the complete opposite direction, the two began a hushed argument.

Before their tempers could get the better of them, Elonso stepped in. “Enough. Clearly we have gotten turned around. It's this damnable fog, it seems to cloud more than sight.” He considered his younger compatriots for a moment. “Dante, you know this area better than either of us. Are you confident in your path?”

Dante looked anything but confident, but nodded his head nevertheless. “It is this way.” Dante affirmed, pointing the same direction he had before. Bastian still looked unconvinced, but didn’t say anything. Elonso nodded.

“Then you lead the way.” He told Dante. “I will follow close behind, and Bastian, you take the rear. Keep your eyes open, we are quickly running out of time.” With these words, the three sprang into action, Dante marching down the path, followed by the others.

After a few moments on this new trajectory, Elonso noticed something very disheartening. Bastian had disappeared. Calling ahead to halt Dante, Elonso scanned the area around them, but the fog obscured anything not immediately in front of him. Elonso gave a few whispered calls into the mist, seeking Bastian, but to no avail.

“He was so sure of his own path that he went and got himself lost.” Dante said contemptuously. “We’ll find him after we collect the birds.” Still uneasy, but well aware of their dwindling window of opportunity, Elonso nodded, and the duo set off again.

Meanwhile, Bastian was panicking. He had been right behind Elonso! He had looked behind them, trying in vain to see through the fog and catch sight of any pursuers, and when he looked ahead, Elonso and Dante were gone. He tried to find them, but only ended up stumbling into the river. When he turned, the riverbank seemed to have vanished as well.

He was waist deep in water regardless of which way he turned, and, he realized with a burst of terror, the jungle had fallen completely silent. Even in the darkness of predawn the jungle was a noisy place. But here, there was nothing. Not the whisper of wind or the chirping of a single cricket. That scared him far more than the fog or stumbling into the water. The silence was oppressive, completely incongruous with the living, breathing entity of the jungle. And suddenly, from the fog ahead, still in the midst of the water, was a ceiba tree. As it was the only thing he could see, he headed forward toward its shelter.

Dante cursed under his breath. First Bastian wandered away, convinced he knew better than Dante. Now, Elonso had apparently also decided that Dante wasn't worth following. The fact that Dante hadn’t actually known any better than they did how to escape the fog was besides the point, the others should have stuck with him! And now he had actually found the riverbank, the first step toward the Macaw nests, and he was alone.

Or was he? He heard the scampering of tiny feet. What is that? There shouldn't be anything out here that would make those noises. And he saw a flash of red on a diminutive figure. Curious, he followed behind the figure.

Elonso was wracked with fear. He has been keeping a very close eye on Dante, determined not to lose another friend, and as such was watching as the fog seemed to swallow Dante. Elonso rushed forward, reaching out to grasp Dante’s shoulder, but his hand fell onto mist. He ran forward, but nothing was there. Dante was gone.

But he wasn’t alone. No, something was breathing in the fog. He kept turning, but never caught sight of it. The only reason he could hear the breathing was because all other sound had stopped. Blindly charging forward, desperate to escape the stalking creature, he tripped over an exposed root and collapsed down the muddy bank into the water.

Righting himself in the water, he looked up to see an unknown figure standing on the edge of the water. He opened his mouth to call out to them, but the words caught in his throat as the mysterious man transformed into a jaguar. He had heard the old stories from his grandmother, but no! They were just folktales! Although as he watched the jaguar tense to pounce, he knew that he had been wrong. This was very real. The name of his tormentor escaped his lips as the jaguar leapt through the air to land on him, plunging him into the water for his final moments. “Nagual…”

Bastian climbed onto the roots of the Ceiba tree, escaping the water at last. As he cleared the surface, he caught a glimpse of something moving behind the trunk. Scrambling around the base of the large tree, he caught full sight of his target- a beautiful woman in a white dress, her shining black hair cascading down to her ankles. Unlike Elonso, Bastian hadn’t grown up hearing the old folktales, so as this gorgeous woman smiled and beckoned him forward, he merely complied, entranced by her beauty. And as the Xtabay enveloped him in her arms and dragged him back into the water, he never had the chance to scream.

This had to be the most unusual person Dante had ever seen. Standing around a meter tall, the little man wore a wide brimmed red hat and some form of animal skin shirt. There seemed to be something wrong with his feet. If Dante didn’t know any better, he would have said that his feet faced the wrong way. Not that this slowed him down any. Racing along the riverbank, the little man kept disappearing behind the trees. Only his whistle led Dante forward, calling him like a Siren’s song. As he rounded a large tree, he skidded to a halt. The… creature stood in front of him, because it was clear now that this was no man. It’s feet were indeed facing backward, and it’s malformed hands had no thumbs. It stood staring at Dante, and screeched at him. Dante was terrified, and turned to flee, but before he could make it more than two steps, the little thing tackled him from behind. As they fell down the riverbank and into the water, Dante felt the Tata Duende bite down on his thumb. Then he felt no more.

As the sun rose over the mountains, the fog was quickly burned away. Along the southern edge of the Mountain Pine Ridge Forest Reserve, on the banks of the Macal River, Scarlet Macaws roused in their nests. No chicks had been taken that morning, for the jungle, and the supernatural creatures of the Maya, had protected them. This was their ancient home, and poachers beware if they seek to claim what is not theirs.

supernatural
1

About the Creator

Justin Elliott

An aspiring writer that's just trying to hone his skills in his spare time.

Reader insights

Be the first to share your insights about this piece.

How does it work?

Add your insights

Comments

There are no comments for this story

Be the first to respond and start the conversation.

Sign in to comment

    Find us on social media

    Miscellaneous links

    • Explore
    • Contact
    • Privacy Policy
    • Terms of Use
    • Support

    © 2024 Creatd, Inc. All Rights Reserved.