THE HUNT

Hi y'all. To celebrate the coming of October and Halloween I have decided to post scary stories for the month. Some may be from my dreams, others from split second inspiration, but all will be for you to enjoy. Some may have to be broken up in three or four parts, so watch for the headings. And please give me feedback! I'd love to know if I gave you the chills.


THE HUNT

The Hunting

I can feel them near. They are coming.
I urge myself to run, to hide where somewhere they are not.
The world is dark around me, rushing madly by my feet.
I hear the snapping of leaves, the growls, and howls of the ungodly.
Quick to my hideout, my safety, my salvation. They are coming.
Wet plants slap on my bare skin, stinging me.
My heart rises in my throat, my feet burn with pain, I'm covered in something. Blood.
The trees are mist shrouded, and the air is cool.
I feel the moon bright behind its clouds.
Howl's are growing louder, slashing and gnashing sinking closer. They are coming.
Up the slippery slope, to my dark hole I must go. Safety is within reach.
I'm in the open, the home stretch, they will not find me.
But too late I hear the crack of fire, the boom of death.
They have found me.
I have no where to turn, left right, up, down, all bring death. They are coming.
I pause in fear, looking behind me, their figures larger, more distinct.
They are gaining.
I look to the ground for a weapon, even a stone.
Then I feel it, like white hot coals all over my body.
I look to the sky, see the parting clouds, I am too late. They are here.
I scream in rage and pain, the figures are a stones throw away.
The moon is full, bright almost as the sun.
I'm afire with my true self.
I try. . .to. . .scream.
Pain. .all. .pain. . . .Men. .screaming. . .
. . .Must hide. . .self. . .growling.
Bones. . .cracking. . .growing. . .changing. .
. . .I. .am. . . .new. .creature.
. . . Kill. . .
Must. . .kill.
The burning has ceased, I feel my skin.
It's course, and taught, streched thin. . .
My muscles are lean, my limbs are long.
The moon is bright in my eyes, I shade it with a hand. No, paw.
I flex my claws, glistening and razor sharp.
I growl deep in my throat, reveling in the fear I suddenly smell.
Yes, I smell their fear, and it is good.
I . . am . . here.