Creeptober Horror Spree: Volume One

Stalked

My routine was clockwork. Breakfast at nine, at school by ten, lunch at one, leave for home at six. I didn't own a car, but a shortcut made living the on-foot life a lot easier. A few acres of trees offered pleasant walks to and from class between the campus and my apartment. Well worn trails networked throughout. The paths were color-coded to help hikers keep their bearings; I used the blue trail. Twenty-five minutes one way, I enjoyed the scenery every morning and night.

As the air grew crisper and daylight savings rolled over, I took to bringing a flashlight for my walk home after classes. Walking through the woods in darkness never struck me as a scary experience. Due to the nature of the forest between home and school, I always felt safe in the woods. The trees were welcoming and alive with songbirds. Squirrels rustled in and out of the undergrowth, even in the dead of winter. In the past three years, not once had I felt unsafe.

Until that night.

I was halfway home, listening to the crunching of dead leaves underfoot and not much else. Around that time of year, the nighttime insects were absent, though you would hear the occasional owl. Sometimes a fox would call, which I admit was jarring, but they were harmless. The spotlight from my Maglite bobbed gently a few feet ahead. Somewhere off the trail, to my right, a hefty crack made my heart skip a beat. Something heavy broke a thick branch, and it sounded too close for comfort. I swept the light around, looking for the reflection of eyes. Nothing was there.

That didn't mean there was actually nothing, of course. There were animals in the area big enough to snap a fallen bough. Elk came to mind. I thought, perhaps I spooked it, and it's long gone. The anxiety in the back of my thoughts immediately rebutted, why didn't you hear it run off, then?

I ultimately felt that I was being silly, but quickened my pace nonetheless. The paranoid thoughts crept into the foreground of my mind, and I succeeded in scaring myself enough to pick up into a light jog.

To my left, I heard another loud crack.

I jerked the Maglite towards the noise, still jogging, and what I saw left me slowing to a horrified stop. At first, I thought it was a tree, but I could see that it was a leg when my eyes focused. Large curved talons pressed into the earth, and I recognized that it belonged to a bird. The problem was, of course, that the foot was almost as large as I was.

A third deafening snap echoed to the right of me, and I slowly turned, sweeping my light. Another leg. Another foot tipped with wicked claws.

I don't know why I didn't just run. I suppose human curiosity will always be our biggest vice, for better or worse. But I looked up, pointing my flashlight high, and I saw a looming, flat face. Nearly as tall as the trees, I realized I was in between its legs. It turned its head, ruffling its neck feathers, emitting a strange purr. Its enormous eyes shone in my light, gazing down on me. Fear rooted me to the spot.

What I could see of the creature was slender, feathered, and disproportionately stretched. Although I can say that it looked like an owl, it absolutely couldn't have been, and I was only able to break my paralysis when a spindly, gnarled arm reached down towards me.

It crashed after me. I could feel the weight of the thing as its footfalls vibrated the ground. Trees bent around it, and at some point, it broke into a sprint on all fours. I was sure that I would die there, knowing I couldn't outrun it for long. For some reason, however, when I passed through the edge of the forest, the creature skidded to a halt. It chittered angrily, shrinking back into the darkness of the trees.

Whatever it is, I don't think it can leave the forest. My bedroom window faces the woods, and sometimes, I swear I see its head poking out from the treetops, watching me.

I take the bus now.