by Hayley
Where am I? That’s’ the first thought that flits through my mind as I come to. I’m lying eagle-spread on my back, a head-ache raging against my skull. All I can see is the darkness behind my eyelids, which are still shut. I can feel a cool breeze playing across my face and hear the rustle of leave as the wind flows through the branches of the trees that I imagine are all around me.
Fighting the skull-splitting head-ache that threatens to over-come me, I open my eyes a millimeter. Through my eyelashes, I can identify a full, bone-white moon floating in the jet-black stretch of sky that is slightly obscured by the leafy branches of lanky oak trees reaching towards it. No stars twinkled. The only light came from the startlingly white moon, illuminating my surroundings.
I turn my head slightly to the left, resisting the urge to black out again. I’m in a dense forest of thick-trunked trees and scraggly undergrowth. I don’t recognize this place. It has a slightly unsettling aura, shadowy and dark. Sinister is the word that comes to mind. It’s the type of place you wouldn’t enter alone, especially at night.
What puzzles me is that I’m not the least bit disturbed, though any sane person probably would be. I’m more confused than anything else. I close my eyes and take a deep breath, trying to gather my thoughts. I start from the beginning. My name is Jace Merrywhether, I think to myself. I’m sixteen years old. I was walking home from school alone and then… nothing. The memory ends there.
I ease myself up into a sitting position, pressing my hand to my left temple where my head-ache pulsates from, though it seems to be beginning to fade slightly. I sit there for a few minutes, listening to the eerie silence. But there is something more. An underlying crunch of bracken, heavier than any squirrel could emit.
I struggle to my feet, brushing my sandy-brown hair away from my eyes as I scope over the thick oak tree of the shrouded woods, suddenly frightened of what could be lurking amongst the shrubbery. “Hello?” I call tentatively, my voice coming out shrill and cracked. That’s when I see it.
Bright, gleaming red eyes, blazing like embers, full of pure evil not known by man, are glaring at me from between the throng of trees. My eyes widen in terror, mouth dropping open in a silent scream. I’m paralyzed with fear. The creature snarls and begins to advance from the shadows. That brings me back to my senses.
I turn to run, but not before I catch a glimpse of the owner of those two blood-red eyes. It was like no creature I have ever witness. Tough, leathery, black skin stretches over its prominent, bony frame. A stout, canid-like snout holds a mouthful of huge, jagged, yellow fangs that drip with saliva as its lips curl back in a horrifying growl. The creature’s pointed teeth almost pale in comparison to its long, curved claws that protrude from the tips of spidery, human-like fingers.
I use every bit of strength I can muster as I sprint in the opposite direction the creature. My heart is pumping, my skull still pounding. I can feel the beast’s putrid breath on my heels. This is no real animal. This is some kind of demon.
The realization hits me as the creature pounces. I hit the ground, my face shoved into the dirt, muffling my screams. Pain follows of which I could never have imagined. So much pain I nearly faint. I wish I would. Anything to escape the agony that rages through my body as the demon rips through me, scraping at my spine as it tears off large chunks of my bloodied flesh.
There is no escaping. The beast continues to tear through me, savagely snapping and clawing as I scream and writher in the dirt. But no one hears. I’m not even sure if I am anywhere near people, or if they would even be able to assist me. All I can do is hope, is pray, that death comes soon. Surely I cannot endure any more torture. Surely, I cannot.
What was your inspiration for this piece?
I really didn't have inspiration. I just couldn't come up with a good enough story that could be told without writing a whole novel, so I settled on something simple.
What authors inspire you in your writing?
Stephen King is probably who I was looking to in order to write this piece. The man is dark. Genius yet dark.
What was the last book you read?
I'm actually reading multiple books right now. Unwind and Columbine for Bridges class and The House of the Scorpion for free reading.
If you were writing a book about your life, what would the title be?
Probably something like [Insert your Name Here] just because it's that simple.
Obviously you are an excellent writer. What other hobbies do you have?
Reading, and that's basically it. I'm extremly un-athletic, so that's pretty much all I can do!
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