Dirk Cecil abandoned Elliot, bolting back toward the clearing. His gait was more of an awkward waddle than a run, his too-wide belly threatening to overbalance his too-short legs. The image might have been humorous, if their situation had not become so dire.
“Don’t run,” called Elliot. “It won’t…”
The creature appeared from behind a tree directly behind the ADA. It leaped onto the attorney’s back, riding him to the ground like a big cat taking down easy prey. With a high wail of celebration the beast dropped its head and buried its teeth into the attorney’s shoulder. The man screamed, and the creature bit him again. Dirk’s cries of pain ended only when the monster grasped the sides of his head with two of its clawed limbs, then twisted his neck hard to the side. The fragile vertebrae broke with a loud, wet pop. The attorney made one last small cough, then went still.
The monster lowered its head and sniffed the corpse beneath it, giving the bloody shoulder a few licks with a long, reptilian tongue. A rumble emanated from deep inside the creature’s throat; a low, satisfied purr. Elliot stood numbly and watched. He did not even consider fleeing. What would be the point?
At last the creature straightened. Its head turned slowly until four, bilious-yellow eyes settled ominously on Elliot. The thing crawled off the lifeless corpse that had been Dirk and padded closer to him, shifting sinuously across the ground on six thickly-muscled legs. Elliot waited passively for whatever fate might await him. He hoped it would be a quick death.
Rising onto its hind four legs the creature placed a taloned claw against Elliot’s chest. The ends of two vicious, pointed nails poked through his clothing, breaking the skin and drawing a small amount of blood that immediately soaked into his jumpsuit. The monster sniffed at Elliot’s face as it examined him, its yellow eyes blinking in a nauseatingly random sequence.
“Please,” Elliot whispered. “Please, just kill me.”
“No,” the monster replied, its voice also at a whisper.
Elliot sobbed, tears flowing freely down his face. His chest hitched painfully. “But why?” he begged. “Why are you letting me go again?”
“You know why,” the creature said in that same low hiss. “If I kill you, then all are dead. No more come to me. I send you away. You go away, then you come back with more.”
“I won’t,” he insisted. “I won’t bring anyone else. Kill me!”
“No,” the monster repeated.
It pushed Elliot, causing him to stumble backwards and trip. With his hands cuffed and linked to his waist, he was unable to break his fall. The back of his head struck the hard ground, leaving him stunned and dizzy. The creature slithered up beside him, lowering its face to hover over his own.
“This was good hunt, better than first hunt. Now, you go away. You go away and come back with more.”
G. Allen Wilbanks
About the Author
G. Allen Wilbanks is a retired police officer living in Northern California. For twenty-five years he wrote collision and crime reports during the day to pay the bills, and short fiction during his off-time to stay sane. He is a member of the Horror Writers Association (HWA) and has published over 100 short stories in Daily Science Fiction, Deep Magic, and many other magazines and online venues. His stories have also featured in several internationally, best-selling anthologies. He has published two short story collections of his own, and the novel, When Darkness Comes.
For more information you can visit his website at www.gallenwilbanks.com, or check out his weekly blog at www.DeepDarkThoughts.com.
G. Allen Wilbanks can also be found on Facebook
www.facebook.com/gallenwilbanks/ and Twitter
https://twitter.com/gallenwilbanks
The Lady in the Woods
Michael D. Nadeau
Curiosity
Riding in the back of a run-down pick-up truck was not on his itinerary. Sean checked his watch one more time, brushing his black hair out of his hazel eyes. He didn’t really need to worry about how long this was going to take, since his dinner plans weren’t until tonight with Siobhan, yet he couldn’t help it. He slid the small window of the truck cab open, and tilted his head to yell at the driver. “How much further?” he asked the old man behind the wheel, the wind whipping his hair into his face again; he just wanted to get this hike over with at this point.
“Oh, about another fifteen minutes there laddy,” the man said, cackling over something he found funny. “Are ye sure ye want to go in there?” he questioned in his thick, Irish accent.
“It’s just a forest,” Sean retorted, then turned away to watch the countryside go by. He was visiting Ireland to see where his family had come from, and one of the places he wanted to see was Cloosh Forest. It was massive, with some parts of it untouched by man for centuries, and his curiosity had driven him to see it for himself. This was the only place not on the tour guide’s suggestions, but it had always had a certain allure for him. Something about the old ways, and the deep magic of the forest, just drew him here.
“Just a forest? Aye, and Tir na nOg is just a place,” the old man countered as Sean closed the glass window.
Sean may love the old stories, but he didn’t really believe in them; not really. He loved the thought of the woven tale, picturing his family sitting around the hearth and telling little ones stories. They would recount the Children of Lir, the story of Deirdre, and Fionn mac Cumhaill, among others. Not that they ever existed, he thought, but I would’ve loved to grow up with those tales. He had found an old diary in his mothers’ belongings when she passed away last summer, and learned that their family was from Ireland. There were all sorts of story books as well, and he had gone through them for hours. That’s when he and
