short storys


I’ve not written many monster tales, this is one of my first, written years ago.

The moon sliced holes into the darkness of the forest as I walked in the decaying leaves left over from autumn’s past. I relished these nights, alone, a warm breeze at my back.

I drew in the night air and caught an odd scent wafting across my nose. I listened and waited.

The forest stirred, and I glimpsed the glow of fire. The hunters, humans, were in my forest with their weapons and careless steps. My eyes narrowed as anger surged in waves from the pit of my stomach. I had long ago found my ability to keep myself hidden from their destructive weapons. But fire struck fear in my heart. Those flames forced even the bravest of us to flee into the night.

I crept through the underbrush, keeping low and quiet. Ahead of me, under my pack’s great spreading oak tree, something new to my eyes stood. It appeared to be one of us at first glance, soft greyish black fur standing along its straight long back. But it turned and stood upright, like the man beasts. Its front feet opened and closed, not feet at all, but hands. Large, long hands. At its full height it stood bigger than any wolf I had ever seen before.

Long times past, when I was still a pup and ventured into the farmlands to prove my bravery to my pack mates, I once overheard the elders speak of a creature, half wolf, half man. The creatures in those stories hid themselves among us, then changed into man beasts. But this creature, this new wolf seemed more wolf than the monsters in those old mostly forgotten tales.

The wolf thing growled and shot its glance toward a stream sparkling under the moon. On the far side of the water, the humans were spreading themselves across the forest in a line. Last time they burned the trees. But that was seasons ago, and the forest was almost whole again.

The strange wolf thing sprinted toward the line of men. He ran all four of his strange feet planted on the ground, like one of us. I followed as he slowed and cut behind the very last man, out of sight and unnoticed. He crept around the man forcing him away from his companions almost playfully.

Amazing really, his subtleness of movement, the quiet beauty of a pure predator. I admired his skill and watched, mesmerized by this new wolf.

The man stumbled among the fallen branches of my forest and the new wolf hung just out of his sight. Brilliant, I thought, just brilliant. I had never seen the men from the outskirts show such fear.

The man began crying as the graceful creature drew close. Instead of calling out to his companions for help, he cowered in tears, trying desperately to shield himself. The air filled with pungent aroma of urine and I knew the man’s fear was great.

With one mighty swipe of an odd claw tipped hand, the wolf thing ripped the man’s head away from his body. The smell of warm blood caressed my nostrils. I watched in silence as the new wolf devoured the hunter, tearing his insides out.

The others drew close, their fire casting a familiar and terrifying yellow glow on the leaves. No matter his size, I knew this wolf could not battle the entire band of men to any good end.

I stepped from the shadows hiding my presence and approached him. He jumped away from his kill, growling. His eyes flashed with an amber glow. The thing spoke to me in a series guttural grunts and clicks, unable to form even the simplest words. Sounds of the hunters surrounded us. Time was growing short.

I spoke, but he could not understand my words. Instead I grabbed him and pulled, like we do to the young ones who have not learned to hear. I had to make him understand that he needed to follow me, that the man beasts were coming. He jerked his eyes back and forth, the bobbing lights among the trees raising a panic that shown on his long face.

Suddenly, a flash of blinding light and hot metal met flesh. The wolf thing dropped to ground. He writhed in pain. Blood from his hind leg stained the forest floor. Growing frightened, but not willing to leave this amazing beast behind as the men began to yell, I bit him hard and growled out an order. He snapped away from the pain in his leg and looked at me, his eyes strange. He nuzzled me and stood.

I was relieved. I led him away from the man beasts toward a large outcropping of rocks where the caves hid my pack in times of need. We wove ourselves between the boulders, me making sure the spaces were wide enough for his great girth to pass. The hunters followed, but their voices grew faint as we pushed distance between them and us.

Finding a partially hidden cave, we slipped inside. He collapsed, his breathing labored. Faint calls of the men echoed along the canyon walls. I pulled the wolf thing deeper into the cave as he struggled to breath. The wound seemed less than serious, but he still drew ragged and shallow. I tried to calm him, and keep his cries quiet.

The hunters’ voices eventually started to fade. I crept to mouth of the cave and peered into the darkness, the moon sinking behind the hills. They were giving up and leaving. My heart sang.

I turned to tell my new friend the news and found myself standing not a hare’s breath from a naked and wounded man beast. His eyes burned wild. His mouth dripped with saliva, his fingers clenched in fists. Fear gripped my chest as he called out, his strange words echoing through the canyon. The voices of the men rose again and drew near. I knew instantly this unnatural beast was my end.

A very quick attempt at ActivelyDying’s prompt.

I singe my finger with the match to watch the flame glow and smell flesh burn. It takes me home. Back to the times when I held a gun and felt safe. When it was all black and white. The enemy was the enemy and we were the good guys.

The room is empty for the most part. I never really cared to get back to civilian life or the trappings of it. Dust hangs in the air and I pace.

Do you ever feel your mind creep back to the scenes you thought you were long past?

Mine does.

I hear the outside world. It sounds suspicious. They’re out there. Around every corner, they wait for me to let my guard down. But I won’t. The enemy is everywhere and nowhere at the same time. Two realities battle in my mind until I cannot find which one is here and now.

I load my gun. Here and now may be right where I cannot afford to be unarmed. I need to be ready for that here and now.

Shots. A car door slamming. Which is it? Both or neither.

Do you know what it is like to get lost on your way to the bathroom?

I do.

I can feel the heat and smell the diesel. Burning flesh.

I’m at war. But I’m at home. It is a long way between to two and I make the trip more than I want to.

My gun is my only comfort and bluing has a taste. The war will be over. And I will end it.

“Excuse me sir.” She pulls a map from her pocketbook. It’s been folded and refolded then finally balled up. A bright red mouth makes her look as though she’s been kissing a freshly fed vampire.

The color has bled into the little smoker’s lines around her lips. It is disturbing to me.

“Did you fart?” I ask polite as I can since I can’t understand why she would ask my forgiveness.

“W-what? I need directions to the museum.” She un-balls the twisted map a bit.

“The museum.” I feel my head start to bob up and down. “Yes. The place where they house the things ripped from artist’s souls. I know it well. You know they allow that willingly to be done to them. It’s a horrific thing.”

“What an interesting perspective of art,” she says. “Did you study formally?”

“Formally?” The red bleeds more, making tiny rivers of blood on her face. “No, but it’s not hard to see how they suffer. Their souls fed off by vultures.”

Her head begins to bob along with mine. “I spent many years suffering over my paintings only to be left misunderstood.”

I feel that twitch develop under my eye. She smells of flowers and bowel. She disturbs me. “Who are you again?”

She laughs. It is more a cackle, like a crow laughing at finding a piece of carrion. “That’s right, who are any of us?”

“Us. Were we together?” I could not remember.

The woman giggles as if she were one of the young women I watch in the park. The noise grates against my skin. She is old and unappetizing. Her skin is lax, transparent.

“Is that your way of asking to accompany me to the museum?” She touches my hand with long snakelike fingers.

“I don’t like you.”

“Oh.” Her face, powdered and drawn-on, flushes red. “I guess I misunderstood you.” She smoothes the map. The blood spreads. Her hair reaches toward me. I step back.

“Don’t touch me. You need to not touch me.”

“I wasn’t. I just need to know where exactly I am and where the museum is-”

“What makes you think I know where you are? How would I know that?” I grab the map and tear it up, my hands working completely on their own. “You could be anywhere.”

“I’ll ask someone else. I…” She steps back as if I were growing toward her. “I’m sorry to have bothered you.”

“You can’t ask anyone else. Who will know?”

“Sir, please. I don’t want any trouble.”

“But who will know?” I hear my voice grow larger. Her eyes match it. They swirl with color. “You have to find yourself before they do.”

“What? You’re crazy.” She turns her back to me and starts to walk. “Why does this always happen to me? I always talk to the strange ones.”

“Didn’t you need to know where the museum was? It’s on Lancaster north of Seventeenth. Turn left.” I smile, knowing I saved her.