perhaps going on a getaway with three dollars to my name, my older sister (in college debt, might I add), an old van, and my hopes and dreams (if any) fueling my eagerness to enjoy a weeks stay at a beautiful (so they say) cabin in the middle of tot...
my eyebrows furrow at the sight, the shotgun in his burly hands, his expression partly covered by the shadows of the dark room. He steps in and closes the door, alert, putting his finger over his lips, before cocking the gun.
My heart drops to the pit of my stomach.
It's silent for a long moment, before a low vibrations hums throughout the foundation of the house.
Then it's silent again. Warren's eyes slowly go to the closed off window, and if my heart could, it'd jump out my skin and shatter into a billion pieces on the floor out of shuddering fear.
He's here. It was that easy to read his expression. To sense the underlying message in the heavy weight in the room.
A gentle drag of a nail, claw? Whatever it is, along the glass of the window echos through the room.
I keep my eyes glued to Warren, though. I haven't known him for more than a few hours but I already felt a sort of attachment, nothing extraordinary but I couldn't help but feel safe in his presence.
Warren, strangely enough, doesn't seem frightened. If anything, he seems determined.
The scratch sounds again.
My eyes flutter shut, as I regulate my breathing.
Silence. A whole lotta silence, tonight.
The window creaks for a prolonged period of time, as if a weight is burdening it. Before its hinges snap and vines slowly weave themselves through the nooks and cracks of the aging wood.
Its eyes. It's always its eyes, that I see first. And then it's large..antlers.
But this time, I can see it more. The moonlight bathing ghastly on the abnormally thick, large beast.
My breath is knocked out my chest.
The figure of..what would be assumed a human man, at the scale of abnormality, but everything but. It..doesn't have skin. It does but it doesn't. My eyes, heavy, feel like I'm being tricked with, because with every blink his blends with the forest, the foliage, too well.
Heavy, thick, curved antlers, with inking of a deep, almost imperceptible gold on the tips, the texture of ivory bone and a mix of bark, vines weaving around the near black antlers, that disappear too easily in the shadows.
The only patches of what could be similar to skin is on the center of its chest, it's lower abdomen, a few spots fluttered along its arms, and small parts of its face, which is majority hidden by the angle.
the tiny, luminescent, white dots, though, I can never get out of my head.
Its eyes. They're just...glued to me. It sends a shiver down my spine. I hear Warren cock the shotgun, muttering a few intangible words in a foreign language to the beast, before lifting the gun, pointing it dead center of the beast.
He dosent waste any time, nor does he waste a regard for the fact that my sister was asleep. With a sharp whistle a bullet is shot and lands a dent, not going through but giving a very faint dent in the beast's chest. The beast doesn't make much of a reaction than tilting his..I suppose it's a he, large head subtly.
If the beast wasn't so haunting-looking I would've found it cute.
My sister wakes with an alarmed gasp, her face paling at the scene, before she inevitably looses consciousness.
The muffled ring in my ears makes me disoriented, and I look around in a daze, befuddled.
Everything's in slow motion..so..-
I snap out of it when I'm pulled up, by Warren, my sister over his shoulder like a lifeless pack of potatoes. I would let out a giggle if I weren't trembling like a leaf.
My eyes widen, my head turning just as the beast lets out an..amused huff?
Yeah, today is definitely not real.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
*note* getting an accurate description of this man is going to be tricky, so I'll leave a bit of him to your imagination, but I truly do hope my descriptions give a solid foundation as to what beast looks like!
