The Beast of Fox Hill

Eight

Thankfully enough, the night indeed did pass with no sign or sound of the red eyed beast that had stalked my prior nights. The night came and the sun began to once again reign the sky, causing the darkness to shift into the blue that brought the day. 

I went about my usual morning routine, from the bedroom to the bathroom and finally breakfast. As I chewed down my eggs and bacon, my mind crossed through the events of the few days leading to this one. 

From the night I first saw the wolf to the strange man standing in my yard and even Booker, it was all so strange. I had lived in Creekville for over two years now and nothing this bizarre had ever happened before, other than the tales the townsfolk would talk about. 

It was late morning as I sat in my kitchen and finally finished my breakfast. Picking up my plate, I made my way to the sink and washed it before drying and placing it back in the cupboard. 

I walked back to my office, deciding it would be a good day to do some writing on the latest novel I was working on. My mother always supported my dream, especially when at the age of eighteen I got my first publication. It was a dream I had been working at for years prior, and as soon as my first novel was published I moved out to Creekville, hoping to enhance my work space.

I never expected my new home to be this exciting though. Wolves, monsters, creeping the forests at night. It was things from the horror novels I wrote myself and honestly it made it that much more unnerving. 

I sat at my desk and turned on my computer. I sighed while I waited for it to load up, leaning back in my chair and closing my eyes for a moment. I stayed this way for a good minute before leaning back up to face my fully loaded computer screen. 

I began writing, placing every little detail accurately and with the best words I could find. I wrote for only thirty minutes though, before a block hit me. Stuck on how to continue my writing, I stood up and stretched. 

I thought to myself that a good walk would do me good. After all the stress, writers block, and strange events that had occurred, I needed to clear my mind. 

I went back to my bedroom, the floor creaked as I passed through the entrance as usual. I grabbed my black sneakers and a black pull over and exited the room. 

I stood by the doorway, pulling the warm pull over on over my plain green shirt I was wearing and then slipped my sneakers on. I tied them tightly, assured they would not slip off in case of a steep walk. 

I opened the new door and with the first step I kicked a small sized box slightly. I crinkled my brows, confused as to why there would be a box at my doorstep. 

I had not ordered anything and my mother was not a package sender, meaning there was not many reasons for there to be a package at my door. Perhaps it was a mistake and it was meant for someone else and the mail person got the wrong address, I thought to myself. 

I lifted the box up and shook it slightly. There was a small thump against the box as I shook it. I looked all over the package and my mind filled with confusion once again. There was no label on the box, meaning someone had deliberately placed it on my doorstep. 

Curiosity got the best of me and I slowly opened the rim of the box. My fear of it was that it could be a bomb, because I am that type of excessive paranoid, so I cautiously opened it. When I saw there were no wires and such, I pulled the top open the rest of the way. 

My lips parted and my eyebrows once again pulled together as I looked down at the item in the box. It was my phone. I gently picked the phone up out of the box, and set the small cardboard cube back onto the stairs.