Now I wasn’t so sure. I said I couldn’t hear anyone singing, straining my ears to hear this melody. Hoping I’d hear something, anything. Nothing. She had said ‘oh’, drawn out, more a breathe than a word, barely a whisper. Then she had turned, and started towards Pure Mile Road.
I called to her, thinking she was playing a trick, she had an odd sense of humour. I just noticed I wrote ‘had’ instead of ‘has’ - I better find her soon because I can’t entertain the idea of her being dead another minute. I didn’t understand what she was doing so when she didn’t turn back and had reached the end of the street I power walked after her, still calling her name. A smile was twitching my lips I remember. A nervous one, I was still waiting for the prank to happen. And when she reached the start of Pure Mile, I got scared. I called for help, but no one came. So I just ran after her as quick as I could.
Pure Mile runs parallel to the main road, it’s a dirt packed pathway only for walkers and hikers, and goes through the forest. It’s dark, large pines and a variety of other trees loom overhead, blocking out the sun. The other end opens out onto a natural lake, and further past the lake is what’s known as the Miner’s Village. It’s a barren landscape, one there used to be a mine in, back in the fifties. I hadn’t been up this way in years on account of how steep of a walk it was, and as I followed Ellie I thought I’d have another heart attack. I could feel my ticker smash my ribcage. Could hardly breathe.
I was terrified, I never seen her act remotely peculiar before. After chasing her for what seemed like hours, my mind wandering to the worst conclusions, she veered off to the left - off the pathway and up into the woods themselves. She moved so gracefully, as if her age was of no significance. Mine was. I lost sight of her. She glided under tree branches and hopped over rocks as if she’d done this a thousand times before. The thick pines snapped me in the face, I tripped more than a dozen times and had to keep taking breaks to catch my breath. All the while I still wheezed her name.
I don’t mind telling you as I sat there crying trying to catch my breath, I felt very old, very alone and very scared. Then when I was about to keep going, something caught my attention. I could hear footsteps, fast feet hitting packed dirt, someone was running. It wasn’t coming from Ellie’s direction, someone was running up Pure Mile. They called my name. I shouted to them, letting them know where I was. I sat slightly up the mountain in the thicket of the woods to their left. My voice sounded very weak. Light. Shining through the trees, making silhouettes of them.
“Teddy?” The man called, he sounded worried. Working his way up through the thick clump of trees I realised it was Bob White, Sheriff White’s young son, also a police officer. When he broke through the last few trees, he looked out of breathe and just as scared as I was.
“Teddy,” He exhaled, relieved, “what’s happened? I heard you calling from my place. Dad was out so I just took off, thank god I found you. What’s happened?”
I told him all about Ellie, my throat hurt from the lump in it as I spoke.
“I’ll go find her, you wait here.” He sounded like a dog owner telling his pet to stay. I got very angry at the young son-of-a-bitch just then. His moustache looked so stupid on his young face as he spoke, it make me want to punch his lights out all the more.
“She’s my wife and I’m coming Bobby. I’m not going to slow you down.” I didn’t know if that was true or not but I was determined to find out and to find her as soon as possible.
The next half hour was agonising. Both physically and mentally. I kept my head down, letting Bob light the way ahead with his torch. In the glow of light I could make out the carpet of pines below my feet, and I worried where my wife had gone. I just keep replaying that sense of being ignored over and over.
We eventually reached a plateau, a clearing in the woods about the length of a football field. No trees grew here, they surrounded it as if they were guarding it. The earth was clear of pine needles, the soil looked spoiled and dark in every direction, nothing grew here. Bob asked me if I’d ever seen this place, I said I hadn’t. He bent and scooped a handful of dirt, letting it slide back through his fingers.
“Soil’s ruined, nothing grows here.” He said. Captain fucking obvious. God forgive me, I wanted to hit him so bad.
A branch snapped on the far side of the clearing, in the woods. Both of our breathing hitched and caught in our throats. Bob danced his light beam over towards the sound, bathing the wall of trees in a soft glow.
“Not strong enough in this distance.” He said, and started across the clearing. His neck was stretched forth, as if a few more inches ahead would allow him to see better. He was about halfway across when a second branch snapped. Louder. He paused with a gasp, frightened. Then there was silence. He called Ellie’s name into it.
This is where it got very strange. Something was emerging slowly out of the darkness of the growth. A person. He called her name again and I stood, starting towards him in the middle of the clearing. My heart pounded, my palms were sweaty and my lips were dry. My legs felt like jelly as I walked. I called her name too, sounding scared. We both did.
Rustling from the trees. Bob’s light focused on the shadow coming forward. It let out a moan, low and ominous. I could hear both Bob and I breathing very loud. It exited the trees and stepped out into the clearing. It looked like a person only it’s arms were very long, they reached nearly to it’s kneecaps. I’d never seen or heard of anything like it. The light shook over the figure and it took me a moment to realise the thing wasn’t the only one moaning, both Bob and I were too, my neck felt tense.
It’s head was a joke of a humans. It had no hair, it’s face was long and it’s features seemed melted. It’s what I imagine a person’s face would look like if they had radiation sickness or something. It’s skin was a dark shade of grey, and it wore what were formerly clothes. Now they were just unrecognisable shreds of cloth caked in dirt. The only way I know they were formerly clothes is because on it’s left foot was the remains of what was a sneaker.
It hoisted it’s freakishly long arms above it’s heads and started shuffling toward us. In the moonlight, liquid glistened and dripped from it’s mouth, it seemed to be salivating.
“Stop moving!” Bob cried out, he undid his gun from it’s holster with his shaky spare hand and levelled it. “I-I’m warning you, stop!”
My hands were balled up so tight I think my fingers drew blood. A sharp smell hit me and I realised Bob had pissed his pants. He was whimpering like a dog but never ran. The thing plodded closer. At this distance I could see it’s eyes were milky white, no pupils. It got within fifteen feet when Bob warned it again. At ten feet he fired the first shot. I jerked with fright and my heart bashed against my chest as the shot echoed through the clearing. My ears rang. The bullet left a gaping hole in the centre of the thing’s chest, big as a coin. From it slopped a thick dark sludgy substance, and a rancid fishy odor followed. I gagged.
The thing didn’t seem to notice, just kept shuffling forward, it’s creepy arms still raised. I remember it’s mouth was gaping open and closed, repeatedly, like a fish out of water. It’s saliva smacked and dripped. Bob fired another couple shots. Once again, it didn’t respond. Then it was on us.
Looking back, I don’t know why we didn’t run. It just didn’t occur to us I guess. People act funny when they’re terrified.
The thing smashed it’s arms down powerfully on Bob White’s hands, knocking the gun away. It let out another moan, this one sounding annoyed. Then, and this is what I still can’t accept, it spun quickly on me. I had no time to react, before I could register what was happening it had lifted my arm to it’s mouth and ripped away a mouthful of flesh. I roared. It tore it out and the pain was like nothing I have ever experienced. I whipped my arm back, still screaming, and ran for the woods. Back towards Pure Mile, back towards home. I could hear that Bob was right behind me, we were both yelling our throats raw.
My eyes watered, blind spots grew in front of me. The pain star
ted to dull and I realised I was slowing down. Not intentionally. That’s where my memory starts to fade. I have a brief glimpse of the ground rushing up towards my face. Of Bob White’s muffled, far away voice saying that the thing wasn’t following us anymore. I think I was letting out a sound the whole time. I remember feeling hands roll me over and hearing cloth rip. Then I remember the bobbing sensation of being carried.
I remember hearing a gunshot soon after. Then, nothing.
What I assume was at least a few hours later, I opened my eyes to a grey sky above. My face was damp from the dew on the grass I lay in. I felt nauseous. I sat up slowly, my arm was painfully tender and a little numb. Bob had tied it off with his shirt. A dark crimson stain blossomed underneath. I winced when I flexed my hand.
The birds were singing but it was still dark out, I put it to be about four in the morning. I was in Brian Randolph’s field. I could tell because of the white horse in the little stable looking at me from the far end. And because his field sloped steeply upwards, and at the top of it was Pure Mile. I got up and started toward it.
I felt very light headed and walked very slowly, concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other. I tried to piece together what was happening and just couldn’t absorb it. Why had my wife gone out towards that thing? Were there others? How had she known where to go? Too many questions and I just couldn’t, still can’t, truly encourage the idea that this was reality. Maybe I have gone senile and I’m actually in some hospital right now muttering in an easy chair. I hope so.
The nearly hour long walk back was the longest stretch of time in my life. My thoughts were empty, I was surprised at that but at the time I just wanted to walk home. I concentrated on getting the scenery slowly past me.
When I got home, as I said, I showered, done up my bandages and surprisingly, I ate. That was only about two hours ago now. Then I stopped to write this.
I know for a fact Bob White is dead, and I feel bad for wanting to hit him earlier, especially after seeing how courageous he was when pushed but I said I’d write down the whole truth and nothing but. Well, what I understand to be the truth at least. Don’t ask me how I know he’s dead, I just have a feeling. After hearing the gunshot just after fainting, there’s something else there, just out of reach of memory. But I know it’s there and that he is dead.
They’ll be looking for him by now I bet. No one would have seen me come home at least, it was far too early when I got back into town. But leaving, they’ll see me leave. I’m going to wrap this up now, because I need to go find my wife. I doubt what I find will be what I want to find, I’m no fool and I know she’s probably not okay. I doubt I’ll find her alive.
I just hope she’s not one of them. One of those creeps. I don’t know how that’s even possible but something’s telling me it very well could be. Maybe it’s this damn bite just screwing with my head. God it hurts. All I know is that I’m going to put this pen down now, grab my rifle and head back out towards the clearing. Before the hallucinations become worse. Before the pain becomes too much. This time I’m not going to run away.
... I can hear singing out there now. Ellie was right. It sounds so beautiful, such a sad melody.
Author bio: Matt Hayward is an Irish, Wicklow based author and musician. His band Lace Weeper have become a staple on the Irish rock scene and have toured with many notable bands and musicians. For more info on Matt, please visit:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Matt_Hayward
When not writing, touring or recording, Matt can be found far up the Wicklow mountains, wondering the woods, drinking beer and playing guitar. Not all at the same time of course. Matt's personal website can be found at www.sundancecrow.com
“Killing Jessica”
By Glenn Rolfe
Case #BF 4796839408
Journal transcribed from a journal found on suspect upon arrest.
State of Maine,
Vs.
Troy Butler,
Defendant
Exhibit A in the case of the State of Maine vs. Troy Butler:
Journal found with defendant upon arrest.
June 28, 2014
I am going to kill my roommate’s girlfriend, Jessica.
It drives me mental the way she struts around in nothing but a towel after showers drinking her coffee and smoking her cigarettes. I know she does it on purpose. She’s a goddam tease. And when she’s not flaunting her perfect body, she’s busy being the biggest cunt on the planet. I got home from busting my ass at JP Printing today–eight of the most monotonous hours of my life–and found Jessica swigging down the last of my Sam Adams. I had three frosty cold ones waiting for me, and she just takes them. And she’s lying on the fucking couch in these tiny shorts and a bikini top, nipping like we’re in a meat locker cuz she’s got the A/C cranked. What does she care, she doesn’t pay the bill. She doesn’t fucking work. I look around and see the other two empty bottles sitting on the coffee table. She sees me looking and says: “Stop pouting, Jake will buy you more.”
I’ve never wanted to fuck or kill somebody so bad in my life! Instead, I came in here–my bedroom, my fortress of solitude. Today it’s just me, my notebook, and my plan.
July 29, 2014
I am going to strangle her! I don’t give a shit if she’s Jake’s girl or not. I think she’s really putting in an Olympic-sized effort to get under my skin. She threw out my leftover spaghetti, because she needed the Tupperware for her tofu crap. I asked what the hell she was doing touching stuff that wasn’t hers. All she said was, “Calm down, it’s just food. Besides, it looked fucking horrible.” I already told her two weeks ago not to touch my shit in the fridge. Jake even told her. I’m getting pretty goddam sick of her Queen Bitch routine. To make things worse, while I was ranting like the lunatic she’s made me, she just stood there leaning against the kitchen counter biting her bottom lip. She looked so sexy. I swear she’s the devil.
June 30, 2014
That evil succubus girlfriend of his just made me break the Bro-Code: Thou shalt not fuck thy best friend’s girl. It happened so fast.
I was watching TV and she came outta the bathroom in that damn towel again. She reached past me for the lotion on the end table and let the towel slip. She said “oops”, but I knew better. Her beautiful tits were right there in my face. Then, her hand was on the front of my pants. While Jake was out shopping for their two year anniversary, we went at it like a couple of angry, horny teenagers.
I’m a shit friend.
July 4, 2014
I can’t do it. No way am I harming her. We’ve been fucking every chance we get. It’s the hottest goddam thing I’ve ever done. She’s so evil. Tonight is their anniversary. Jake asked me to keep her busy at the fair while he went to set up his big romantic spread in the apartment. The second he was out of our sight we slipped behind the “haunted house” and went for it. Since that first fuck, Jessica’s been so cool. She told me she’s wanted me this whole time. My head is so messed up right now. Jess has got me upside down and inside out.
Jake got me a room at the Econo Lodge so they could have the place to themselves. Part of me is jealous. I managed to snatch my notebook–my confessional (Hail Mary, full of grace)–and my headphones. I’ll probably just jerk off and hit the sack.
July 5, 2014
Okay. I don’t know what the fuck happened, but Jessica won’t even look at me today. I tried to rub her arm, and whisper in her ear while Jake was in the shower, and she pulled away from me. I want to tell her she’s not being fair. That she can’t do this. She can’t make me feel something and then take it away. You can’t.
July 6, 2014
Jake asked Jess to marry him. And she said yes. I fucking hate them both. He told me at Denny’s this morning while we were out for breakfast. He asked her on their anniversary, but she didn’t say yes until this morning. I wanted to stab my fork into his stupid, cheerful eyes and dig until his brains were all over his strawberry pancakes.
Jake dropped me
off here and Jess is hiding in their bedroom. I can’t fucking take this. I’m going to talk to her and tell her she can’t marry him. We should be together.
July 6, 2014
I can’t believe her. I can’t understand. She wouldn’t let me in, so I had to break the door. She yelled at me to “get out” and to “leave her alone”. I told her she couldn’t marry Jake. That she should be with me. That I would treat her like a queen. She told me we were a mistake. The worst mistake she ever made. I should have wanted to smash her face in, but I started crying instead. “We can’t, Troy. I’m marrying your best friend,” was the last thing she said. There were tears in her eyes too before she turned away.
I left the confusing bitch in her room. I’m fucking losing my shit.
July10, 2014
I had to get out for a couple days. I forgot my notebook, but that was for the best. I didn’t want to think of her. I stayed at my cousin Todd’s and got shit-faced. I missed work, but fuck that noise. That job blows. I’m quitting tomorrow. I haven’t seen Jessica this morning, but she left me a note:
Troy, you know what we did was wrong. I’m not asking you to forgive me, I just hope you can keep a secret. -Jess
Not sure what I’m going to do when she comes home. I want her to want me again.
July 10, 2014
They eloped. That’s why she wasn’t here. She went down to the courthouse with that lame fuck and married him. HIM. Less than a week ago we were humping like rabbits, now… That’s it. No fucking way. She’s not doing this to me. And neither is he.
Journals of Horror: Found Fiction Page 11
