Damien

Chapter Five

Stupid

As Reed looked down at the bloodied welcome mat, he couldn't help but believe that he was truly brain-dead. It all kind of sunk in while he was staring at what used to be a fox. As the dead creature's eyes bore into him, he thought about what had led him to be staring at a dead and decaying fox on the doorstep of an abandoned house in the woods that hadn't seen a human presence in years before he and his buddies came along.

He didn't like high school, but then again, who did? He still got up and went, though, looking back, maybe he should have stayed home and feigned sickness, the ol' "touch the thermometer to the light bulb trick," but being the decent student he was, he had gone to all his classes, made an A+ on a pop quiz, taken notes, and hoped his friends did well on their test.

When lunchtime came around, he was left sitting at an empty table. He figured maybe they skipped lunch; it wasn't the first time, and it certainly wouldn't be the last. The male ate, threw away what was left when the bell rang and waited out the rest of the day. Waiting outside, time seemed to drag by, and he hoped his friends would hurry up.

Maybe they got held back by Miss Blackwell, he thought, smiling to himself, remembering what had transpired yesterday with one of his friends and Miss Blackwell.

When 4 p.m. rolled around, he finally decided to leave, figuring they'd catch up if they wanted to. As he walked the path to the deserted cabin, the male couldn't help but feel creeped out by the silence and low temperature of the woods around him.

When Reed finally made it to that god-forsaken cabin, finally seeing the corpse, that made him recount his day, realizing his friends wouldn't be coming to join him at this place. The male tried to move the small canine from the faded welcome mat, but the smell that immediately hit him made him gag. Just poking the thing with his foot made the corpse so much worse; he hadn't noticed it had been cut from neck to abdomen; it looked like a demented fur rug. While fighting the urge to vomit at the sight alone, the male heard it.

The screeching of what sounded like nails on a chalkboard came first, then a chorus of chirping barks from seemingly all around him, spinning in place to pin-point the sound did nothing, and finally a broken-raspy voice spoke replacing the chirps, it sounded like a mash between different people all combined to make a chorus that echoed through the forest.

"My dear boy! Do you not like my gift? How selfish! "Am I not worthy enough for you to accept my welcoming gift!?" The voice spoke.

It wasn't a question that demanded an answer. Just as he thought the broken and raspy voice had disappeared, whatever was speaking showed itself. The male looked at this horrible creature; all he could process at that moment were its many orange eyes. They unfortunately lit up the creature's face; the thing in front of him smiled, teeth illuminated by the orange glow, rows of sharp teeth on display for him to see. The thing opened its maw to speak again in that same broken tone.

"I find that extremely rude." "I say someone should teach you some manners!"

The thing seemed to think for a moment before grinning ever wider.
"No one else is around, are they, my dear boy?" It seems the only one to teach you manners is... ME! "LET THE HUNT BEGIN!"

The thing yelled, its voice seemingly getting deeper and more broken. The male ran. At some point while he was running the creature seemed to graze him on the arm, a small gash all that was left, he didn't feel it, he barely felt the burn of his lungs. When he finally got home, he collapsed on the doorstep.

His last thought before blacking out was about how it was obvious the creature took it easy on him and that this thing enjoyed the hunt.