“The hike was beautiful this morning,” she says casually, shrugging off my jacket. “I mean, you saw the ridge, didn’t you? When you came looking for me? Imagine all that stone turning gold, and the trees below are every shade of red and orange and yellow...like the entire forest is burning.” She turns. She’s between me and the road now. Like I had any hope of outrunning her, anyway.
“I wanted us to come here together as a...kind of test,” she continues, taking light, slow steps toward me. I stumble backwards and fall, and the keys slip from my hand. The flashlight shoots out a cone of light, casting horrible shadows across Becca’s body. It makes her look longer, taller, more monstrous. Or maybe she’d always been that way.
“I’m...sorry,” I blurt out. “About last night. I don’t even know what that was about.”
This stops her. Becca cocks her head, as if she was assessing me. Then she sighs.
“You told me I was trying to shame you into changing. That hurt.”
“I know. I shouldn’t have said that. It’s just...this isn’t me.” I gesture to the woods. To her. “I’m not like you.”
Her face twists. She looks like she might cry. She sniffs sadly, covering her bare breasts with her arms. “I know. But I love you anyway.”
“I love you, too.”
“Then it doesn’t matter, does it? I was so mad...until I saw you trying to save me today. You were trying so hard to get help. How can I let you go now? After all that?”
“Becca,” I murmur, pushing my tired body across the ground, but it’s too late. The shadows take over her body. I hear the snapping of bones as my girlfriend elongates. Is it the light? Her nose is now a hideous snout, her skin covered in nightmare fur. I can’t tell if she’s still smiling or snarling. Her eyes are slivers of topaz in the dark.
“I have something for you,” she growls.
“P-please, Becca…”
“Don’t worry, babe.” Her hands — paws? — scoop me off the ground easily. She cradles me. I try to fight, I struggle against a grip I can’t break away from. I scream into a wilderness devoid of anyone who can help me.
But I’m so tired.
“It’ll only hurt for a little bit,” she snarls into my ear. I can feel her hot breath as she pants against my face. A long tongue flicks against my shoulder, and now I’m whimpering quietly against her. When the teeth break the skin, it’s like a hot poker against my flesh, and I can’t tell if I’m crying or screaming.
“We’ll be so wonderful, Steph.” Becca’s voice fills my head as everything else fades away, consciousness dissipating. Her bite is a catalyst, I know that. My body is changing as I pass out. The last thing I hear is Becca whispering in my ear:
“We belong together now.”
E.E.W. Christman
About the Author
E.E.W. Christman is a word witch who lives on Lake Sammamish near Seattle where she strings nonsense words together. She received her Bachelor’s in Creative Writing and her Master’s in Creative Nonfiction from Ohio University before moving to the west coast. Her work has been featured in several anthologies of fiction and in magazines, including Unwinnable Magazine, The Bronzeville Bee, & PULP Magazine. You can find more of her work on her website: eewchristmanwriter.wordpress.com.
You can also follow her on Twitter for vague ramblings and bad jokes: @eew_christman.
Only Snow
Clint Foster
“Can you hear it?” Nils’ breath heaved from his chest to his shoulders, and he was staggering against the bole of the pine upon which he leaned so heavily. He urged, “Can you?”
“No. No.” Sera leaned her head against the tree. “No, only snow.”
“Only snow?”
She nodded, and Nils relaxed as well. Their breath formed crystals as it slowed, in time, and they shivered as the sweat on their brows cooled. The sun had only set ten minutes ago, but it seemed like a lifetime.
Sera and Nils lived in Whitlin, where the darkness meant danger, and the days began at noon. Nestled into the foothills of the White Mountains, which were so enormous that they dominated the eastern half of the sky, Whitlin was a tough town that raised hard souls. Crops were thin, taxes were high, and no one went outside from the time the sun was gone behind the horizon to when it peaked out from the mountaintops at noon.
For decades Whitlin had run several lumber yards in the mountains, never growing beyond a small village. The people took care of one another, and had little need for bartering, or even for money at all. Most born in Whitlin never leave, because to do so would mean staying the night in the White Wood.
Miles of conifers isolated Whitlin from the rest of the world, and the only way in or out was the single road that was only passable in the summer. Hunting parties kept the city in sight when they entered the woods, and many tied ropes around their waists to anchor themselves to the rest of their group. The White Wood was not an innocent forest in which creatures thrived and frolicked. It was a dark place, contrary to its name, where ill will seemed to hang like a fog among the low boughs of the close trees. In the woods the wolves were king, not the humans.
“Only snow?” Nils repeated one last time as they both caught their breath.
“Only snow.” Sera repeated. A mantra that meant safety, for now at least. A prayer to cling to in the woods.
Both of them had hunted before, and every child in Whitlin knew the rules about the White Wood. When the sun goes away, the wolves come to play, just like the rhyme said. Unfortunately, there was no helpful information on how to deal with the wolves when they came, and no one had ever brought a body back to town with them.
At his nod Nils curled around the tree and crouch-walked silently back east, toward Whitlin. His steps were soft and
