The Hunt

Rifle clenched tightly against his pounding chest and beads of sweat running down his neck, the hunter rushed franticly through the midnight forest. A dimming flashlight, his only source of light, bobbed up and down in his hand desperately seeking the path to safety. Stopping, he tilted his head and opened his ears for any source of suspicious noises. Nothing seemed to catch his attention, but he knew that they were there somewhere, watching him with their golden eyes through the thick veil of night. Heart pounding and twigs crunching underneath, he pressed on.

 

No matter how silent he sought out to be, each noise he made seemed to be amplified by a megaphone. Every heart beat pounded like a drum; every shaky breath scratched through the night; every snapping twig shouted through the forest. They would most definitely track him down now, if they had not done so already.

 

In sheer panic, he flung himself down underneath a bush and waited for a moment until his breathing steadied. He passed his tongue tentatively over his teeth and lips and heard the far off the ululations of his pursuers.

 

There were many things he could do. He could climb a tree; but that involved fatal risk. If he were detected, they had nothing more difficult to do than wait or climb after him. Or he could continue to run forward; but finding civilization in this utter darkness was remote.

 

What was to be done, then? The tree? Push forward through the darkness? Either way the choice involved terrible risk.

 

His heart beat quickened as he heard their shrill cries, leaping up, he dashed into the thick veil of night until he was hung up among the tangled vines; he stayed there for a moment with his chest on fire.  

 

And there again, shrill and inevitable, was the demonic ululation sweeping across the forest. At that sound he shied like a horse among the trees and ran once more till he was panting. Head throbbing and calves quivering, he stopped again. The cries, like a child screaming in pain filled his ears with torture. His legs could no longer support him, and with surprising velocity he fell to the ground. Overcome with fright, the hunter scuttled behind the trunk of a decaying tree and hid silently in its shadows. Dropping his gun to the ground, he hugged his body and squeezed tightly in order to suppress his shivering. He mastered his breathing for a moment, wiped his mouth, and forced himself to be calm.

 

A small branch in a nearby tree snapped then plummeted to the ground. “Hark hark,” he heard from above. Followed by another throaty “hark hark” deeper in the darkness. Looking up towards the tree, the silhouette of the creature was evident against the fullness of the moon. Like a contorted primate it looked: it clung to a branch with its elongated arms and gazed, with its abnormally large cranium towards the moon. Shifting itself in the tree, it gave one final call and waited for a response. “Hark hark hark”. Then, with great gracefulness and accuracy, the creature descended down the trunk of the tree and into the darkness, toward the cries of its companion.

 

Hours passed, not a sound in the infinite forest. No monotonous songs of crickets, no warning calls from the hunting owl; life had long deserted. All that remained was a whimpering hunter cowering in the shadows from the clammy hands of his pursuers. The air had begun to produce a chill which froze his sweat and caused his already tremulous legs to shiver more. He must get up, before it came back. The dropping temperature had forced him to conclude that hiding was no longer the intelligent choice. He must push on and risk the night’s immeasurability. Grasping the flashlight form the ground, the hunter scampered uncertainly into the woods.

 

He no longer cared about the amount of noise he emitted.

Just get out, get out, out, out, out, out….

A twig snapped in the distance…he paused…was that a giggle he heard?

He ran faster and began to mumble out loud this time.

“Out, out, out get out, out…”

Giggle, giggle

It came from up ahead this time, he spun around and fled,

Tears welled down his cheeks profusely and he couldn’t seem to suppress the uncontrollable sobs.

“Out, out, get out, out!’

Yet another twig snapped…whisper, giggle, giggle, “Hark, hark”

The sounds surrounded him and began to close in.

Fear and paranoia consumed him and began to pick hungrily at his remaining sanity.

“Leave me alone! Let me out! LET ME ALONE!” He yelled franticly behind more sobs.

More snapping twigs, this time mere feet away.

 

Hands trembling, he flicked on the flashlight and what he saw paralyzed him.

Ten feet away, beside a decaying oak tree, was one of them.

Four feet tall it stood, boils, emitting a putrid puss ran down its pale, slimy body. Visible remains of flesh still clung to its black nails, and two fierce, yellow eyes glared into him, as if it tried to pry out his soul from within. Tilting its head, it sniffed the air, and rolled its eyes back in ecstasy. Screams of joy filled the night air, it had found a meal.

 

Quickly, the hunter turned and ran in the opposite direction, but in vain. For, another creature stood behind, and its presence was not known, until the hunter collided into it. Slime stuck to his cheek, and a smell of decaying flesh filled his nostrils. He had no time to scream. The flash light crashed to the ground and his body turned to crimson as the rest swarmed in to dig into his skin. The hunters had found their prey.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

                                                                              

Reviews

[brownie]

Wow--this story was pretty good. The descriptions and prose were excellent--perect for a horror story. The only problem I had? I'd like the story better if it was longer, and fleshed out more. If the creatures were described more and the hunter given a back story as to who he is and how he got there, this story would be fantastic! Someday, I'd like to see a "The Hunt: Extended Edition"...
Keep on writing!