THE THING IN THE WOODS

FRIGHT NIGHT

Nichole rises her bow, squint a little, breaths and the arrow is already flying in the nothingness, is dead she can feel it, it is miles away from her jet she hops in few steps and find the burning red eyes, her shot straight up in the brow, blood dripping in thin crimson lines that shine like liquid rubies, a twig creaks behind, and her arrow is already in its scalp, a moan as brisk and short as the late autumn air, she breaths out, the whiff is the only thing she can see yet every target rests at her feet in tiny pools of blood, one hundred pairs blood-like shining eyes, she rejoices.

Nichole gasps, she’s in her bed, her head throbs, her arms ache, probably because of the afternoon’s archery session, it have been crazy,

she has been thinking about her fine shot, the stark rock pierced by a simple arrow five hundred feet away, in her first tries she hasn’t even able to shot her arrow strong enough to get to three hundred feet and yet she did it, after that she staid, she tried back to achieve her amazing score but it was impossible for her to reach the four hundreds, they say her dad was able to hit a penny at five hundred, but is he able to cut a bold and hard rock the way she did? He’s probably able of that and even more, she knows there is something odd about her, something is not right, no human being should be able to do such a thing, and she as frightened as amazed by her skills, so she has a new goal, she wants to reach that instant inside her mind, when it gets cloudy yet thoughtless when that part of her that is wild and rouge, strong a wise takes her up, a be able to control it, to be one with it.

That dream, even though she was there, hunting and killing those creatures almost enjoining her butchery was too disturbing, it left a bad taste in her mouth, she was scared of the things in the wood, but even more or herself, the blood was thick and vivid that she almost could smell it and now she knows the reason, her jaw is clenched, and her tongue aches, the coppery taste remains in her, she bit her tongue in her dream, Nichole sits in her bed, wedges her slippers and walks for the kitchen, she needs water, it is cold and itches a little in her tongue but it will help wash the blood, when she climbs back the stairs her dad’s snoring startles her, he’s sleeping quietly, loudly as if nothing bothers him, Nichole stands outside his door, asking herself three unsettling questions, what is he hiding? Who is her dad? And an even more disturbing question….who is she?

…….

At the first, it’s just his head swaying, then he flutters his eyes open and finds himself caught into the darkness, but his blurry vision gets a glimpse of pair of snowy silhouettes staring at him, then everything comes to his mind, Matt blinks and opens his mouth but one hand is already covering it, he blinks again and Pete is there leaning over him his pale blue eyes shining with loath.

“Don’t scream” He mutters in threatening voice, Matt’s chest throbs and then he notices that it is his heart beating hard against his ribs.

Matt nods helpless, he’s surrounded he can’t escape it’s too late, but why they didn’t kill him while he was unconscious? He looks up, the sky is too dark, starless, there is no wind either, and the dirt must be mud because it is so soft that he almost feels like he’s lying on feathers, he’s in… in a bed, no not a bed… he’s in his bed, what the hell is going on?

Pete unclasp his mouth, and Matt hears a grunt, a crystal screeching and then the wind blows inside the room followed by a dull sound some feet below, someone just jumped from his window.

“What’s goin…” Matt starts.

“You ruined everything” Pete grunts in low voice, he’s being too careful to not make too much noise, it means that Matt’ dad is probably home, maybe if he scream his dad might be able to save him, but what if Pete is armed? Matt would die before he could even say a word.