What Walks in These Woods: Part 1
Keith sat in his chair, swirling a drink in hand. The room was dark, illuminated by moonlight and a soft glow of a desk lamp near the front door. The night had come once more, bringing the pain of remembrance. When the sun dipped beyond the horizon, the worst of it all came to sit beside him and keep him in grim company.
Keith's small home was situated at the edge of the vast and thick Black Wind Woods. In fact most homes in the small town of Crestwind Valley grazed the boundary line of the woods, but Keith's was a bit further north than the rest. Surrounded by large snow capped mountains, the small town had been a perfect spot to settle down. To get serious. To start anew.
That had been the plan. Buy a house, start a business, and then a family.
A family.
The words began to slice deep, and Keith swallowed down the rest of his drink. He grimaced as it burned its way down into his body, a last ditch effort to dull the pain.
It had been nearly eight months since his wife, Morgan, had disappeared. She had gone out for a morning jog, and never returned. Her cell phone was found just a mile from the house nestled within the woods.
The search found nothing more and eventually it went cold. Keith's last eight months had been nothing more than a numb routine. He went into the shop they had bought, a small mechanic space where Keith restored old cars. The last order was still unfulfilled, an old Dodge Charger that sat gathering dust as Keith simply drank in the back before going home to drink some more.
The town itself had wilted around him. It had been such a boisterous and booming town, a real gem. Everyone knew everyone and the community was tight, but it had begun to unravel just before Morgan's disappearance.
Keith sat in the quiet dark of the house. His mind raced through the last eight months, forwards and backwards. Over and over. He disregarded the glass in his hand and simply took the bottle from the fridge.
There were only a few swigs left. Keith sat back in his chair and tilted the bottle back, drowning in the last drips of the cheap whiskey, no longer feeling the burn in his throat.
The bottle fell from his hand and hit the ground. Keith leaned back and looked out the window, the nearly full moon perfectly framed in the window before him.
His eyes were heavy and they began to drift shut. Suddenly a large shape crossed through the moonlight outside. Keith’s eyes snapped fully open and his hands began to shake.
He sat quietly, his breathing now more rapid. He was trying to rationalize. He was drunk. That had to be it. Maybe it was a cloud, or a bird, and he was too drunk to really see it. Despite the sound thinking, his mind would not allow him to accept it. What he saw was too large, and it had looked as if it had walked right outside the window.
Keith stood up from the chair. The room swayed back and forth, but he managed to maintain his composure.
His head snapped at the sound of a loud scratching at the front door. At first it was a quick, short burst of scratches. A slight pause before a loud, slow rake of claws against wood followed.
"Fuck that." Keith murmured and quickly moved into his bedroom, unlocking his gun cabinet and retrieving his hunting rifle.
The front door was then hit hard, the hinges beginning to splinter away from the frame. Keith readied his gun and stormed into the living room, his gun aimed toward the door.
"I’m armed! I’ll shoot. Try me fucker!" Keith yelled in the electric gloom. Silence prevailed. Keith waited and listened. Nothing.
Keith took a step forward, the floor creaking slightly as he went. There was a loud clatter of sounds from the front porch. It sounded like a retreat. Keith, now brave from the liquor, decided to follow the intruder.
He threw the door open and could hear the distinct sound of something large moving fast around the outside, circling towards the back. Towards the woods.
Caution now lost in the wind, Keith stomped off the porch and hurried around the corner of the house. He raised his gun but could only see the dark black and blue of the moonlit woods.
His eyes scanned the pitch black. Something large moved from the absolute darkness into the soft glow of the moonlight on the tree. Keith fired a shot. Then another.
Regular nighttime forest inhabitants screeched and rustled in protest. Keith stood still, listening, gun aimed at the pool of darkness.
Time slowed to halt. Keith's arms began to tire, and he eventually let his gun down. He stared out into the dark, trying once again to rationalize. There was nothing for it. He walked back towards the front of his house, refusing to take his eyes away from the woods.
Time slow to a halt. Keith’s arms began to tire and eventually he let the gun drop to his side. He started out into the dark, begging the shadows to reveal something, anything. After minutes of silence, Keith walked back towards the house, his eyes raking the forest line.
He got back to the front of his house and looked to the door as he hurried up to go inside. It was then he saw the damage done.
Huge claw marks were gouged into the wood leaving ungodly scars. Something sticky was dripping from them, like the door itself had begun to bleed from the wounds inflicted. Keith retreated fully inside and locked the wrecked door.
It was going to be a long night. Longest in quite some time.
STAY TUNED FOR PART TWO TOMORROW
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