In Laymon's Terms

Sebastien Pharand

HE MAN STOOD AT his window, his shotgun pointing at nothing into the moonlit night. He couldn’t see them just yet. But they were out there, hiding from him, playing with him. He kept his gun aimed toward the forest that besieged his house, waiting for them to show their ugly little faces. He’d be ready for them this time. Ready to shoot every single last one of those little fuckers. And then maybe, if he was able to get every single last one of them, he’d finally be able to get some shut-eye. He would sleep without troubles for the first time in months.

As he kept his gun erected toward the dark lawn below him, the man actually did smile, sensing that the freedom he had sought for such a long time was just around the corner.

Mark pulled on his brother’s arm. “Come on, squirt! Hurry it up, will ya! We don’t got all night.”

“I’m tired, Mark. Why do you want to go to the woods for?”

“’Cause we can.” He let go of his brother’s arm and accelerated his pace, hoping that Billy would hurry along and follow him.

They were supposed to be back home, sleeping in their tree house like they often did when the summer nights got too hot and the air inside the house became stale to the point of suffocation. The moment the light in their mother’s bedroom had been turned off, Mark had roused his brother and forced him down the tree to bring him into the dark forest where they now stood. If their mother knew what they were up to, she’d surely ground them for a week and serve their heads on a silver platter with tomorrow’s diner. They had to be careful not to wake her up. They had to be as quiet as they possibly could.

He permitted himself to speak only once the house was far behind them, hidden by the tall oak trees of the dense forest.

“Come on, Billy. We don’t want to be gone too long.”

“I told you I’m tired. Where’re we going anyways?”

“Old man Bradley’s farm,” Mark replied with a grin on his face.

At that, his little brother stopped dead in his tracks and stared back at him with a glimmer of fear in his eyes. Slowly, he shook his head.

“Nah-ah. I’m not going out there. Mom says that man’s crazy.”

“What’s gonna happen, huh? Tommy told me that he found old bones in Bradley’s barn and I want to see them for myself.”

“Tommy’s a big fat liar, and you know it!”

“Yeah, well, I just wanna see things out for myself. If you don’t wanna come, fine, turn around. But you’ll have to walk back by yourself.”

Mark turned around and resumed his walking. He knew Billy would follow him. His little brother would never venture through the forest at night on his own. He wouldn’t even enter the woods on his own during daytime. After a few seconds of walking, he shot a quick glance over his shoulder to see Billy closely following him, his tiny legs trotting quickly on the dirt trail to keep up with him. They didn’t utter another word as they made their way through the maze of trees and shrubs until finally, the old house appeared before their eyes.

Everything around the farmhouse was dark and still. Even the gentle summer breeze seemed to disappear as they reached the house in which old man Bradley had barricaded himself for the last decade or so. Folks in town said the old man would only come out of that house to hunt for food or to fetch his mail from the mailbox he had planted at the side of the road nearly a quarter of a mile away from the house. At least, that’s how the story went.

“We’ll just take a quick peek into the barn and then we’ll both be able to prove that Tommy’s a liar. We’ll be quick. Promise.” Billy didn’t answer him, too stricken with fear to say anything.

He gave his brother a quick playful punch on the arm and snorted at him before returning his eyes toward the dark house that loomed before them.

He could see them now, those little creatures. They were coming for him. But he’d have the last laugh this time. He’d get those little bastards good. They wouldn’t come around these parts again once he was finished with them.

The creatures had first showed themselves a few months ago, after those strange bright lights had appeared in the sky. That night, they had swarmed his land, knocking on the walls of his house and making the dirty windows rattle as they tried to find a way to seep into his home. And they’d come back many nights after that. Not every night, though just often enough to annoy and scare the hell out of him.

He pumped the shotgun, loading a shell into the barrel, ready to fire the moment they’d show their ugly faces.

He could see them crawl through the woods now, making the leaves shudder and cracking branches under their weight. They were inching quickly toward his house, unknowingly creeping ever so close to their eventual death.

A smile grew on his lips as he cocked the gun toward the movements in the woods. He could practically see those horrible green eyes glowing in the darkness. He imagined their little clawed toes digging into the wet earth as they took another step in his direction. He heard their laughter as they cut their way through the night.

“Come on. Show your faces,” he said through gritted teeth as he caressed his shotgun with the tips of his fingers. “Show your ugly little faces.”

“Mark, I don’t think we should be out here.”

“Stop being such a baby. We’ll just be a minute is all.”

He stepped out of the bushes in which they were hiding to find himself standing on the wet overgrown grass. The dew felt cold on his ankles. His socks were quickly dampened as the water seeped through the leather of his sandals. Billy’s tiny hand grabbed his as they walked toward the decrepit barn that stood about a hundred feet to the right side of the house.

They had made it halfway there when a sudden blast echoed through the night. Something whirred past his ear to land on the ground a few feet in front of him, causing a small explosion of earth and grass to somersault high in the air.

“Jesus! Someone’s shooting at us!”

Mark pulled hard on his brother’s arm, all but dragging him toward the barn.

He heard what could only be laughter coming from somewhere within the house as another shot blasted through the night. He didn’t stop to see where the bullet landed. He eased the two large sliding barn doors open and pushed himself inside, still clutching on to his brother’s trembling body. He then pulled the doors shut as fast as he could as another blast burst into the night, to find himself standing in the blueish darkness of the barn.

Those bastards! They had made it to his barn. As he saw the little monsters disappear within the old building, seeking shelter from his bullets, he couldn’t help the irritation that seeped through his veins. The anger was boiling deep inside him by then, like an overflowing witch’s brew ready to explode. They wouldn’t get away from him. Not this time. He was done with those little things. He would put an end to all of this nonsense right this minute.

Tonight, it all ended.

Placing his gun over his shoulder, he walked out of his room, ran down the stairs and walked out of the house.

They wouldn’t get away from him this time around.

Mark looked at his brother’s terrified face with concern. “You okay, squirt? You hurt?”

Slowly, Billy shook his head no. Tears welled in his brother’s frightened eyes, forming two large pools of salty water that were just about ready to overflow. A confused expression shrouded his face.

“I want to go home, Mark.”

“So do I. But that crazy man’s out there and he’s shooting at us. We’ll just have to wait in here for a little while.”

“What if he comes here to get us?”

That question was the only thing on his mind as he placed a hand on his younger brother’s shoulder, a desperate attempt at bringing him comfort. It is hard, however, to console someone when you’re in desperate need of it yourself. As he sat next to Billy, his body mimicking his brother’s trembling, Mark feared that he’d never get out of this place alive. This barn, this—

For the first time, he willed himself to look at the things that surrounded him. The old barn was nearly in ruins; the wood had rotted through in various places, creating tiny fissures through which the moonlight seeped in. And thanks to those rays of soft blue light, he could see all the small things that sullied the cracked cement floor. They looked to him like minute white sticks at first, though the more he looked at them, the more his opinion changed. These weren’t sticks. Through the shadows, he recognized their shape: not sticks, but bones. Hundreds of small, white bones.

For a brief moment, the fear that swooned within him was so great that he thought his heart had stopped beating. A swelling shiver of terror swept through his whole body. Tears stung his eyes once more. So Tommy had told him the truth after all. Tommy and his big mouth! He was the reason they were trapped in here with this madman shooting at them. He hadn’t believed his friend’s story since Tommy was prone to embellish the truth a little to entertain his friends with his wild stories. Everything that flowed out of that boy’s mouth was colored with lies. The desire to prove his friend a liar had been too great to ignore, though now that he was faced with the brutal truth, now that he found himself surrounded with all those chalky-white bones, Mark wished Tommy would have kept his big trap shut. If he had, then none of this would have happened. They’d be back home, in their tree house, far away from this place, happily dreaming the night away.

A part of him wanted to get up and walk to those bones to take a better look at them. He needed to know if they were human or if they were animal. He knew little about bones and didn’t know if he’d really be able to differentiate the two. But he needed to try nonetheless.

Billy turned around and looked at him straight in the eyes, compelling him to remember that he wasn’t alone in this place. He couldn’t let his brother see those bones. He wouldn’t let his brother get even more frightened.

“What’s wrong, Mark?”

“Nothing at all. Everything’s fine. Just fine.” Although his own mouth had spoken those words, he found it very hard to believe them. Things weren’t fine. They were both drowning with fear, terrified by what they had just gone through and even more frightened of what was to come.

He could hear them in there. Those little bastards. They could try to hide, but they wouldn’t get away. Not this time. He was curious about them; if he only knew what they truly were, then maybe he’d have a better chance at getting rid of them once and for all. They had appeared out of nowhere, after that bright flash in the night sky, and had started tormenting him on that very night. He had killed his share of them, too, which had inevitably led him into getting a good look at them. Those large gray-green eyes full of emptiness, those tiny legs and arms, those long rubbery fingers...They all looked the same to him, none much taller than five feet high, all of them as naked as the day they were born. He had no idea how many of those things hid in the woods. He couldn’t even remember how many he’d killed. But no matter how many of them he destroyed, no matter how many of those dead little bodies he’d thrown into that barn, they kept coming back. Nothing would keep them away.

Tonight had been the last straw. He had declared war on the little monsters, whether they knew it or not.

The barn appeared through the darkness. He smiled to himself. They wouldn’t get away. Not this time. Those two little monsters hiding in his barn were as good as dead.

The silence crushed them with its weight. The waiting game had become unbearable for the both of them. Maybe the man had left or gone to sleep? Maybe the coast was clear?

Mark’s questions were quickly answered by the sound of heavy, drunken footsteps nearing the barn. Bradley! He was coming to get them and they had nowhere to run to, nowhere to hide. They were trapped in this horrible place like two caged animals.

Billy must have heard the steps too as his hand squeezed his brother’s and his whole body bolted upward from where he had lain on the floor.

Their eyes met. For a brief second, their fears became one, as though their bodies were linked together by a strange electric current. There was nothing they could do against this man, especially if he had his gun with him. Mark scanned the room around him yet again, hoping that a hiding place would magically unveil itself to him.

The walking stopped. A thick silence quickly enveloped them to the point of strangulation. He could feel the night air thickening all around them. The only thing he could hear now was the sound of their own hearts pulsating in a rhythmic cadence. A sudden wave of dizziness marauded his body, making him realize that he’d been holding back his breath for far too long. He exhaled as silently as he possibly could, a long soft hiss that felt shatteringly loud to him as it sliced through the silence.

“I can hear you in there,” the man’s voice blasted through the rotted wood of the two sliding doors. “I’ll get ya. Oh, this time you’re mine!” The voice was a strange mix of pleasure and anger. Bradley teased them with his laughter. Billy looked at him with terrified eyes that were filled with tears. Mark pressed his index finger against his lips, hoping that his brother wouldn’t give in to crying. Maybe if they kept silent, the man would just turn around and go away.

He slowly hoisted his body upward. Billy grabbed him by the ankle and shot a terrified look up at him. “I’m not going anywhere,” he whispered as softly as he could. His eyes scanned the barn quickly. If there was nowhere to hide, then there had to be something he could use as a weapon against that man. He searched through the darkness as best as he could. He saw nothing but hundreds of those bones scattered amongst the old rotting hay on the ground. There were holes in the walls of the barn, though none of them big enough for either of them to fit through.

More hay, more dirt, more darkness.

And more bones.

There was no way out. No weapons. The only escape route was through those two sliding doors, behind which the man undoubtedly waited for them. If they tried to run past him, he’d kill them for sure.

A loud bang echoed all around them, followed by a deep, hearty laugh. The man kicked at the door again, playing with their fears, trying to torment them as much as he could before he killed them.

Billy’s body shifted on the floor at his feet. His brother’s finger tightened around his ankle, digging deep into his skin.

“Get up.”

“Mark, I—”

“Get up!”

Reluctantly, his brother followed the order and stood on his two shaky legs.

“When the man opens the door, I’ll distract him and you run. Don’t stop running until you get home and tell mom and dad what happened. Tell them to call the police.”

“I can’t, Mark...”

“No time to be a shithead, Billy.” Shithead was the name his brother hated the most, the worst insult anyone could think of calling him. Something sparked in his eyes. For a second or so, his legs stopped wobbling and something resembling bravery illuminated his entire face.

“But he’ll get you!”

“I can take care of myself. You just run as fast as you can. You stop for nothing. Nothing. Understood?”

Billy slowly nodded his head. Mark hoped his brother would do as he was told. That frightened little boy was his only hope.

They both stood in the center of the barn, amongst the bones and the crawling shadows, waiting for the man to open the doors and join them.

He kicked at the doors again and laughed, hoping he was scaring them good. When they were in a group, they were as vicious as a pack of wolves. But there were only two of them in that barn. And he had his gun. They wouldn’t escape him this time.

He pumped the shotgun and heard the bullet enter the chamber. He smiled, feeling the heat of the metal against his skin. The gun almost seemed to throb in his hands, begging to be allowed to fire again.

He listened to the silence for a brief moment more before placing one hand on the handle. He had to do it right this time. There was no room for mistakes.

The doors slid open very easily. As he stepped into the barn, he thought for a brief moment that he’d somehow been blinded, as everything around him turned pitch black. But eventually, the shadows began to move and the darkness parted, creating a pathway for him to walk through. He laughed again as he stepped further into the darkness.

Mark and Billy stood at opposite ends of the building, each of them trembling with fright.

The man took a few more steps, stopping only when he reached the center of the room. In his head, Mark prayed everything would go as planned.

Mark coughed, giving the signal for Billy to get ready to run. As expected, the man turned to face the direction of the noise.

To face him.

Mark coughed again, just as the man drew his shotgun and pointed it toward him. The man never saw Billy run out behind him and escape through the opened sliding doors. The man’s eyes were fixated on Mark, a horrible grin of pleasure drawing on his lips.

There was little he could do. At least Billy had escaped. And maybe, by some twist of fate, he’d reach his parents in time for them to save him.

He took one long look at the shotgun’s barrel facing him. Hoping to be saved was wishful thinking. He could see the man’s thirst for blood in his eyes. And he could see the menacing barrel of the shotgun grinning back at him through the night as Bradley pushed it even closer to his face.

“You little bastard,” the man said through gritted teeth. “Got you this time.”

He wanted to plead and beg, ask for the man’s mercy. The words wouldn’t reach his lips. Like every other part of his body, his throat was frozen shut. He couldn’t take his eyes away from the barrel that winked back at him.

He couldn’t take his eyes away from his eventual death.

Bradley would savor this moment for a very long time. He could see the fear in the thing’s large oval eyes. He could see its pencil-thin arms and three long fingers trembling with fear. The thing was facing death and it knew it.

It was payback time.

He’d need to get closer if he wanted to shoot straight. His eyes weren’t as good as they used to be and he couldn’t afford to miss this one. And when he was done with it, he’d start looking for that other one and finish it off.

“I’ll teach ya a lesson ya’ll never forget, you little bastard.”

He took another step forward. All of a sudden, the world around him turned upside down as his body flew up in the air. He had just enough time to look down and see two small bones rolling on the ground where his feet had been seconds before. His whole body collided hard against the floor, sending a long, arrowing rebound of pain throughout his body.

Old man Bradley slipped on the small bones Mark had gathered and placed on the ground a few feet away from where he was standing. The man’s fat body went flying wildly in the air. His shotgun soon followed, pirouetting in the air above him and landing only a few feet away from the man’s body.

The panic that had seized his body quickly dissipated as this new glimmer of hope registered in his mind.

To his left were the doors, though in order to reach them, he’d have to step over Bradley’s fat body, something he wasn’t too keen on doing. To his right was the shotgun, which now rested on the ground with the bones and the rotting hay.

It only took one look at the man lying at his feet for Mark to make up his mind.

That little thing ran toward his shotgun, its gaunt little legs scurrying quickly away from him. It couldn’t end like this. He couldn’t let that thing win. Not again.

He willed the pain out of his mind and pulled his body upward, clawing at the ground beneath him as he tried to regain his balance. The world around him lurched. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, trying once again to drive the pain as far away as he could.

When he reopened his eyes, he found himself standing, searching the darkness for that damn thing which had made his life miserable for much too long. Soon enough, he’d make it join its friends. He’d kill it and leave it there for a few days. Then he’d boil it to make sure it was really dead, just like he had with the others. Then he’d bring the remains here and throw them with the others where it would remain forever.

No, that thing couldn’t live. Not if it was going to keep on tormenting him the way it had for so long now.

But then, the world toppled again and he found himself fighting the small dots of darkness that threatened to overtake his vision. His legs gave out from under him and his body met with the ground for a second time.

It couldn’t live. It couldn’t live. It...

He clawed at the ground, pulling his whole body toward that thing. He clawed and clawed until he felt the blood flowing from his breaking fingernails. He was only inches away from its leg now, only one more push forward and—

Just as he leaned down to pick up the shotgun, something grabbed his leg and pulled him backward. Mark felt his whole body plunge to the ground. A shot of dizzying pain scurried through his body as his whole body collided with the cement floor beneath him. Tears welled in his eyes as another bolt of pain shot down his spine.

He turned to see Bradley clawing at his ankle, a wild grin covering his lips. There was very little that was still human in that face. His every feature had been replaced by something animal, something rabid and thirsty for blood.

Mark turned to look at the gun. It was so close to him! Just a few feet or so and he’d be able to grab it and blast Bradley back to hell. He kicked at the man with his free leg. The first kick went wild, hitting nothing but empty air. He kicked again. This time, to his complete surprise, the kick did collide with the man, hitting him straight on the forehead. A loud scream of pain erupted from the man’s lips. The fingers gripping Mark’s ankle loosened, giving him just enough leeway to be able to push his body forward. The tips of his fingers kissed the end of the barrel. He kicked at the man again and pushed his body forth.

His palm searched the wet floor. When his fingers finally found the hard, circular shape of the barrel, Mark brought his whole body upward and stood over the man. This time, he was the one grinning as he brought the gun in front of him and pointed it at the man who lay moaning at his feet.

Only, the thing in his hand wasn’t the shotgun. He felt a deep-sinking sensation as he realized that he was holding a long, white bone, a bone to which dried little pieces of flesh still clung.

When the thing pointed the bone at him, a loud, happy laugh rose from his throat and burst through his lips. So those things were as dumb as they looked!

He got up from the ground to stand a few feet away from the thing.

Both their heads turned to look at the shotgun that reposed only inches away from them.

Time froze as they both stared at each other, each waiting for the other to make his move. Bradley wasn’t about to make another mistake. He’d play his cards right this time and win the hand fate had dealt him.

Their eyes locked. They both shared a strange rush of anger and fear as they each waited for the other to make his move. The air stood still and heavy and silent around them. Except for the two of them, nothing else lived in their world.

It didn’t surprise Bradley one bit to see that little monster make the first move. Something sparkled in its eyes and a strange grin covered its thin, nearly non-existent lips as its tiny body lunged sideways toward the gun. A faint animal screech burst out of its mouth.

He followed it in its dive, his arms extended in front of him, reaching for the thing’s legs. His fingers clasped around its ankles as they both hit the ground beneath them.

Billy heard the first gunshot echo through the woods and knew too well where it had come from.

Mark!

A shudder of fear sent his body into a stream of panic. His every muscle clenched to render him motionless. He waited, listening to the thick silence of the forest, hoping that what he thought he’d heard had only been the product of his imagination.

But then, another shot exploded through the night and the fear he had been able to drive away for the time being came back to haunt him with a newfound voracity.

“Mark. Jesus, Mark!” Tears welled in his eyes, burning the already irritated flesh of his face. He couldn’t go home now. He couldn’t leave Mark back there on his own. He had to go back and help his brother out.

He turned around and ran in the opposite direction, toward that house, toward that barn, toward that horrible man and his gun.

Blood flowed from the man’s stomach. A large puddle was quickly forming on the floor under him, tainting the bones and the rotting hay with its redness. The man held his stomach with one hand and one of those long bones with the other. Blood seeped out of his mouth as he looked up at Mark with a dazed expression.

“You fucking little bastard,” he said, followed by a long howl of pain. “You damn bastard! You fucking shot me.” Bradley coughed, letting a small rivulet of blood escape through his parted lips.

Mark didn’t respond. He stared back at the man with a horrible sense of fear. He had actually shot the man. He had made the man bleed. As his fingers clutched to the shotgun, his whole body trembled.

Bradley clawed toward him, gritting his teeth with pain. “I’m gonna kill you now,” he moaned as he heaved his body forward, inching ever so close to where he stood.

Mark lifted the gun and pointed it down at the man, his trembling hands sending the barrel into a quivering fit.

The man laughed. “Oh, I’m gonna git you now.”

His fingers were barely a few inches away from Mark’s feet. The man laughed again, blood flowing out of his mouth in great streams, an effervescent glint of madness glowing brightly in his eyes.

Mark closed his eyes and fired the shotgun for a third time. In the darkness of his mind, the thick silence melted with the stinging stench of gunpowder to leave him feeling dizzy and numb with terror.

When the third shot came bursting through the night, Billy felt everything inside him sink. Mark couldn’t be alive, not after the shotgun had been fired three times. He stopped running again, one part of his mind telling him to turn around and run home to his parents, the other part, the one that was shouting at him and which refused to remain unheard, telling him to go and save his brother from that horrible man.

There wasn’t much he’d be able to do against Bradley. Not with that gun of his. But that was his brother back there. Mark had always been there for him and would never have left him alone with that man had the situation been reversed. The fact that he’d run away from his brother, the fact that he’d left Mark there to die in order to save his own life, was swallowing him whole with guilt.

All the fear he had felt dissipated. He couldn’t leave Mark to die like that. He had to try to help him.

He had to save his brother.

He didn’t want to step over that man’s body. Bradley was clearly dead, his whole body covered with a very thick film of rust-colored blood. He could see the large hole the last bullet had made in the middle of his forehead. But the corpse lay between the door and the place where he stood, turning him into an unwilling prisoner of this dark, damp place. If he wanted to escape, if he wanted to get out of there, he’d have to step over that body.

He threw the gun away from him and heard it land on the cement floor with a loud thud somewhere to his left. He didn’t care about prints. He didn’t care about what the police called damning evidence on those TV cop shows he liked to watch with Billy. He was too afraid to think rationally, too shocked by what he had done to make sense of things.

He took one step toward the body and waited. The man didn’t move, didn’t even seem to be breathing. He took another step, and then another, feeling more and more confident with each step that the man was truly dead and that he wouldn’t grab at his leg the moment he tried to step over him. And with all that blood seeping through the cracked cement floor, like tiny red veins, Bradley couldn’t be alive.

The toe of his sandals touched the man’s body. He gave it a little kick, just to make sure Bradley was very well dead. When the body didn’t move, Mark took it as a good sign and stepped over the body. His foot was about to touch the ground on the other side of the body when he felt his foot slip forward in the growing pool of blood. He lost his balance and fell, landing hard on the ground next to Bradley’s dead body. His head slammed against the floor. A trail of shooting stars dashed all across his field of vision. Warm blood instantly covered his whole body, though he didn’t know if it was his or Bradley’s.

His world went gray before turning black as the pain in his head turned from a distant hum into an unbearable hiss.

A lightning of pain shot through his body. For a brief moment, the whole world went white, then green, then blue, like some strange fireworks show played out for his own entertainment.

When the world came back to him, Mark found himself lying against Bradley’s body. He tried to stand up, very slowly at first, unsure that his legs would support him after the fall he’d just taken. He went on his hands and knees first, then pushed himself upward, very slowly, keeping one hand safely on the ground for balance, just in case his legs would suddenly decide to give out.

His vision was blurry, his head was hurting like hell and the fireworks still exploded in front of his eyes. But he was up. He was up and free to leave this horrible place forever.

Billy could see the outline of the barn through the tall trees of the forest. At some point during the night, thick clouds had crept over the forest, shrouding the earth from the bluish glow it had once been cloaked with. Even the moon was gone, completely hidden behind the thick rain clouds.

Something moved in the bushes in front of him. Billy stopped his running and pricked his ears. He was close to the old man’s house now.

He had to be careful. Maybe Bradley had finished Mark off and was now looking for him.

He listened to the forest. Somewhere in front of him, a branch cracked and leaves were being spurred.

Someone was coming towards him.

Before he had time to even think about it, his whole body jumped to the side and crouched behind a large tree trunk. From this vantage point, he could clearly see the trail. He made himself as small as he could, trying hard to blend with his surroundings as he waited for whoever was on the trail to show himself.

Another twig cracked, the noise only a few feet in front of him.

And then, through the shadows and the mist, Mark appeared. His body was covered in blood and his face was cloaked by pain, but it was Mark all right. A great wave of relief swarmed through him. Mark was okay! He was alive!

As a grin widened on his lips, Billy stepped out of his hiding place to meet up with his brother. Everything would be all right.

Everything would be just fine.

With every step he took, the forest seemed to thicken. The trees were looming over him, hitting him with their branches, causing even more pain to his already aching body. He could barely see through the thick darkness of the blood that kept flowing in front of his eyes. If he could just get home, if he could just make sure that Billy was all right, then all of this would be done and over with. He’d crawl into bed and close his eyes and hopefully sleep for a very long time.

If he wanted to do that, however, he’d have to push his body even harder instead of listening to that little voice in his mind which told him he should just lie down right here, on the damp ground in the middle of this dark forest, and sleep for a little while before going home.

Then, just as he thought his legs wouldn’t support him any longer, just had he thought he’d finally give in and let his body fall to the ground beneath him and succumb to the darkness that threatened to invade his mind, something jumped out of the darkness. He blinked and rubbed his eyes as hard as he could, thinking he was dreaming what he was seeing. There, on the path in front of him, stood a tiny creature like he’d never seen before in his life. It had large oval eyes in which a strange green-gray glow swam, thin lips and long, bony arms that were attached to a three-fingered hand. The creature didn’t even look like it had a nose, only a small little hole in the centre of its elongated and triangular face.

Its faint lips parted and a low, guttural snarl escaped through its mouth.

Slowly, Mark felt himself bending down to the ground. His eyes never strayed from the thing that stood in front of him. Mark searched the ground with his hand until he found what he was looking for: a long, thick piece of wood. The thing took a step in his direction just as he brought his body back up, holding the stick strongly between his fingers.

Smiling now, feeling as though this horrible night would never end, Mark ran toward the thing as fast as his legs would let him. He screamed with all his might as he brought the branch down hard against the side of the thing’s head. It never even tried to coil back or run away from him. It just stared back at him with those big lidless eyes and took the blow without even as much as a grunt.

Its body fell to the ground at his feet, motionless, very much dead. A greenish substance seeped from the wound on its head. Blood.

Forgetting all about his pains and his fears and his angst, forgetting all about that man and that horrible thing which he had just killed, Mark ran down the pathway and returned to the soothing darkness of the woods. He ran until he couldn’t breathe anymore. He ran until the world blurred and his breath threatened to leave him forever.

And finally, there it was. His home. A safe place where everything would be all right again. Where everything would be normal and where that little monster would never be able to get to him.

Billy’s body was found three days later, by a search party led by the missing boy’s father. No one knew what had happened to the boy, not even Mark, who had trouble remembering the events of that night. The only thing he could remember was that thing he had seen in the woods. The very morning after that night, Mark had returned to the woods in the hopes of finding that thing’s body, just to reassure himself that he hadn’t gone completely insane, that what he had seen had in fact been very real and not some horrible concoction of his overactive imagination. But the moment he neared the Bradley place, a strange fear seized his whole body. He found himself unable to walk down that path. The fireworks began to detonate in front of his eyes and that searing pain returned in his head.

And then, on the next day, when he walked by the town’s playground with his mother after returning from the Sheriff’s office, Mark saw half a dozen of those little monsters playing in the sand and on the swings where children should have been. They all looked back at him, grinning with hunger, laughing at him through their large eyes. The nightmare was far from over. It was just beginning.