The Woods

People talk about how nature is such a peaceful and tranquil place. What a damn lie. Sure, it's not the blasting roars of the technological chrome age, but the woods have always sung their own discordant hymn. Cicadas shriek in feverish debates until the swelter of the relentless sun retreats, and countless nocturnal creatures awaken next to oak trees yawning with age; every sound seems to tumble and drone into one another—a chaotic but rhythmic landscape. I would know. These woods have been watching me since before I could run. Growing up, my grandfather would tell me stories of the predators these woods hid: beasts waiting to snatch up children. It wasn't until I was much older that I realized how serious he was. The summer after I finished college, I returned for Grandfather’s funeral and, at the mortuary, overheard news that four children had gone missing in the woods. That July, I frequently woke up to the harsh rays of Maglites breaking in through my window as search parties combed the woods. The children were never found. Every night since then, I’d sleep with the lights on—a sort of beacon for the lost.

A few years later, my mother died, leaving me the old house. After living in it for a few years, I was ready to sell. Not for lack of sentimental value, I just didn't have time for the upkeep. Not to mention it’s been years since I’ve been able to sleep soundly. The tranquility of the woods amplifies every noise: every snap of a twig morphs into a stalking predator, every gust of wind a far-off scream. Last week, a barn owl chose to nest close to the edge of the forest outside my bedroom window. Every night, I was startled awake by the loud call of that damn owl. Every night I’d put my head face down into my pillow and try to fall back asleep. One day, delirious and sleep-deprived, I couldn’t take it anymore. This is my last night in this rundown old cottage, I'm going to have at least one good night’s sleep! Eventually, I drifted off.

KA-REW KA-REW! I bolted upright in my bed and slammed my head against the headboard. OW! Okay, that is it! In the woods, time slips past like wet paint. In my exhaustion, I had fallen asleep in the daylight and woken up into a pitch-black void. I fumbled for the bedside lamp and flicked it on. Scrambling to put a jacket on over my pajamas, I stepped outside onto the front porch. I'm all for nature conservation but that owl is getting evicted tonight. The floorboards creaked under my feet and I jumped, startled by the groan of the old wood. I turned around to lock the door, but for some reason, it wouldn't turn. In my frustration, I left it. This house is too damn old. I grabbed a lantern, lit it, and set out towards the woods at the bedroom side of the house.

The open field in front of the woods was almost silent other than the loud crunch of leaves under my boots. A slip of wind slithered by; I shivered, pulling my jacket tighter. It was fairly cold for a summer night and the leaves sometimes made wet smacks underfoot—it must’ve rained. Finally, I reached the entrance of the woods. Shadows loomed in between the trees, swallowing the light of my lantern hungrily. I considered turning back. KA-REW KA-REW! I jolted and the lantern swung sharply, straight into my knee. The searing pain reminded me why I was out here. I refuse to lose to a creature with mouse breath. I took a deep breath (more like a gasp, really) and stepped into the woods.

The owl's call came from deeper in than I expected. It seemed to call whenever I slowed down, almost mockingly, baiting me in to test my resolve. I must have lost my damn mind because, for a moment, I actually thought I was getting played by an owl. More realistically, this bird is probably going to a nearby river and calling its family, I thought as I faintly discerned the sound of distant running water.

I finally reached a small clearing. The canopy opened a bit and moonlight bathed the grass. I stopped completely and, for a second, everything fell quiet. For that brief moment, I almost understood what people meant by tranquili— KA-REW KA-REW! I looked up and stared across the clearing at the bird perched in the treeline. I walked closer, lantern swinging. It stared at me unmoving. Our eyes locked. Shadows danced around us from the lantern’s fragile light. Between the moonlight and the bouncing lantern, my eyes struggled to adjust. I approached the Owl. Finally, a few feet away, the lantern gave me a clear look. What I saw made me freeze in place as my blood ran cold.

The barn owl was emaciated. Its eyes were missing from their sockets. The claws of the bird were nailed to the branch it stood on, and deep lacerations were caked with dry blood all over its stiff body. This owl had been dead for quite some time now. The worst part was the longer I stood staring at the bird, the more my vision adjusted to the lighting of the clearing, and in my peripheral vision, I vaguely made out a figure standing at the base of a tree.

The figure was behind the tree, but not entirely, almost as if daring me to look. Very slowly, I took a calculated step back. To my horror, my boot snapped a branch. KA-REW KA-REW! I tore my eyes away from the owl and looked directly at the figure by the tree. I was sure the sound came from them.

I thrust the lantern forward, trying to catch a glimpse of the figure. It took everything in me not to scream and run. It was a monster. Plain and simple. A bald, rubbery scalp stretched over a skull that seemed too large. A beak like a bird, dripping with what seemed like blood and saliva. The skin on its body seemed stolen, sewn together pieces of at least four different complexions, like a sacrilegious tapestry. The most unnerving quality though? The eyes; the creature had sewn skin over its own eyes. My chest was tight with fear. Cold sweat clung to my back, which was straining to control my heaving lungs. It wasn't moving. It just stood against the tree, neck protruding in my direction, waiting. I had no idea how fast this thing was but I had the feeling that my heavy rain boots wouldn't be an asset.

At this point, all other sounds were drowned out by the sound of my breathing. Just when I thought my legs would buckle from the tension, a branch snapped far off to my left. I slowly turned my head to the left and saw a small doe at the edge of the clearing. Its ears were perked up listening for predators. I never let the creature leave my sight. It was facing the deer like it had forgotten about me entirely. After what felt like hours of deadlock, the deer finally relaxed and knelt down to graze. As soon as it bit down into a rather noisy bush, I heard the brief and sudden sound of thrashing water. I turned my head back to the creature; it was gone!

I heard the disgusting sound of crunching bone to my left and snapped my neck back to find the doe. Blood and viscera bespattered the grass where the deer had stood. In its place, the creature. Good lord. Now bathed in moonlight, I could see the beast clearly and completely and it was undeniably worse. Even across the clearing, it was enormous. Bulging stitches covered its back. Pus and feathers pushed out through the sutures. It had a lower half like a centipede with thousands of legs constantly readjusting. The creature was crouched over, digging into the deer. Its arms were fast and precise, cutting and tearing the meat into tiny pieces with sharp talons. I need to get the hell out of here before that thing finishes eating!

I prepared to lift my back foot but stopped as I looked at my feet. There was no chance of me getting far with these clunky boots on. I carefully tried to kneel down and untie my laces with my left hand while keeping the lantern still but I made a fatal error. In jostling my foot, I swung the lantern. The creature immediately stopped eating at the sound. Bent down and body tensing, it opened its mouth.

What I had mistaken for a small beak was actually an extremely large mouth. Thin lips tucked away hundreds of razor-sharp teeth and two human-like tongues. Out of pure reflex, I flung the lantern as hard as I could into the river. The creature seemed to glide on its centipede legs toward the lantern, water crashing. I started sprinting. I want to say I planned to use the noises of the woods to my advantage. The truth is I was running blindly for my life. Terrified and fumbling in the dark, I slapped away branch and bush trying my best to stay on the path, but soon I was scrambling through wild overgrowth.

Amidst the chaos, I could hear the beast gaining on me while I ran and I had no idea where I was going. My lungs were red hot and close to collapsing from exhaustion but I kept pushing. Just as I could make out an opening in the trees, my foot caught on a root and I felt my ankle twist. I fell, crying out in anguish and disbelief, tumbling over myself. I landed on my back, knocking the wind out of my chest. As I struggled to inhale, the beast towered over me.

Its eyes bulged, darting back and forth underneath the skin stretched over them. Close enough to smell the blood and sour pus on its body, I held my breath to stop myself from gagging on the pungent odor. I was sure this was the end. Waves of pain emanated from my ankle, my chest fighting desperately to sustain a steady breath.

Suddenly, a whistle in the distance rang out. The creature turned toward the sound. Holding my breath in disbelief, a harsh cough escaped my body. The beast whipped its head 180 degrees without moving its body and stared at me. A lump of cement formed in my throat. A second sharp whistle rang out and the beast bolted off. After what felt like hours, I lurched myself upright, limped to the light behind the trees, and broke out of the treeline close to the back of the house. Finally making my way to the front door, I tried the knob. When it didn't turn, I fumbled a few minutes with the key and unlocked it.

As soon as I shut the door and got to my room, the weight of the night came crashing down. I collapsed to the ground in total darkness and sobbed tears of relief and desperation. When the sun came up, I called the local sheriff's department. They sent people to comb the woods but said that nothing turned up. If I hadn't been in such bad shape, they probably would have laughed off the entire thing. I couldn’t tell them everything about the creature. Who would believe me? It’s been over a week since then and I wonder if I can sell the house in good conscience, knowing what I know now. A few questions have been haunting me. What was that thing? Where did the whistle come from? Why did it set up that dead owl in the tree? But what I really can’t shake is this: who turned off the light and locked the front door after I walked into the woods?