Home Sweet Home

Well, that was dramatic. 

The last fifteen minutes of that phone call got us nowhere. We can never agree on a damn thing. How I wish I still had my old razor from 2008 so my mother could feel the anger seething within me as I violently slam my phone shut. What good did an end button do when one needed to convey such strong negative emotions? 

My eyelids droop heavily with exhaustion as I fight the temptation to pull over and rest. The need to fall into a deep sleep and resume driving in the morning is an all-consuming temptation. If I were anywhere else in the world, I would call it a night no problem. However, that won’t be possible on this trip. I am visiting my parents at their cabin deep in the Appalachian mountains. Not because I necessarily want to, I might add. In recent years, Ferals have overtaken the mountains overlooking their cabin. Their clans continuously move closer to my parent’s property line while bringing their infectious disease ever closer to the only family I have left. It has become dangerous for them to continue residing there.

We’ve been relentlessly scouring Zillow for months now, but my parents are a picky lot. Either the paint is the wrong color, the kitchen isn’t up to date, or god forbid we find a house without a walk-in closet. For god’s sake, these people live in the mountains surviving off well water and suddenly a quaint 2 bed 1 bath home is too quaint. I am simply trying to get them out of the mountains as fast as I can, but apparently, cannibals closing in on their home is not reason enough to pick up the pace. So here I am, moving them out little by little until they finally settle on a favorable option they can live with. I have been moving a carful of their belongings into my home each time I visit. Things are starting to get crowded, to say the least, and it does not seem likely that we will find something any time soon. Nevertheless, I continue to persist. 

The highway I’m on runs from the bustling city into the hushed darkness of the forest, roughly an hour’s drive from the city. During the day, this highway runs amuck with city dwellers looking to breathe fresh unpolluted air. After dark, the forest is motionless and tranquil. Or it appears that way to the untrained eye. The hustle and bustle of people have been replaced with supernatural inhabitants. I suggest not asking questions about them either. At least not to any locals. 

The plan is simple: load up another batch of my parent’s belongings, and hopefully, convince them to leave that damned cabin behind once and for all. The drive will be a tumultuous one no doubt. But I am determined. Usually, I would drive during the day when it is much safer. However, that wasn’t possible this week with my busy schedule. It’s not like I can explain to my boss that my parents are on the brink of being overtaken by Feral people of the mountains looking to make them into soup or worse. I will have to brave this one out. Did I mention it’s a full moon on all hallows eve? The odds are stacked against me tonight.

The road I usually take to get home is blocked off by construction signs, though road work is pretty rare out here. Red flag number one. The signs send me in an alternate direction straight through the dense forest. There are so many of these backroads scattered across these parts, it is very easy to get lost out here. That is exactly the point of them. Sometimes they are used as a diversion by Fae wishing to lure you into their grasp. This land will play tricks on you if you let it, and my haggard mind is a prime target for that kind of thing. It wanders off thinking of the creatures dancing in and out of the trees watching my car drive by. Waiting for their moment to shine. As long as we stay out of their way, they usually leave us alone. Usually. 

A chill wafts through the crack in my window, raising goosebumps along my skin. My breath crystallizes with every exhale, creating plumes of cigar-like smoke. Luckily the cold helps to keep me awake. The last thing I need is to fall asleep while driving. My senses are on high alert as I journey through this new path. The placid and desolate road cuts straight through the sugar maple trees of the forest leading into obscure darkness. There are no streetlights out here, so I am getting by on the strength of my one working headlight.  The sound of owls cooing in harmony also finds its way in. They chant in hypnotizing melodies, threatening to lull me to sleep. Luckily I am no fool. Those aren’t harmless birds communicating with each other. Most of the wildlife out here are mere imposters hoping to seduce unsuspecting victims with their singsong voices. My hands grip the wheel as I struggle to ignore them.

During my teen years, I came home late after a house party and decided to sober up before continuing the drive home. A few minutes of “resting my eyes” turned into a dance with the Jersey Devil himself. I have enough campfire stories to last a lifetime. Don’t even get me started on the time Sirens tried to drown me during our family trip to the lake. I still have PTSD around bodies of water and haven’t been able to soak in a bubble bath since. 

My brakes squeal like banshees and wrench me from my daydream as I skid to a stop. A figure stands a few hundred feet away, gnawing at some roadkill. It jerks its head up aware that its meal has been disrupted. Icy skin that is almost translucent, glitters under the light of the full moon above. Its eyes, perfectly round glowing orbs, are daunting. Its form is rather human-like, and it stands on two legs, but I would be a fool to think we are anything alike. A lengthy tail swishes back and forth the way a cat would when you’ve angered it. It’s a Feral. In the flesh. Up until this point, they have only made themselves known through their howls late at night while they hunt. I was hoping to never come face to face with the likes of one. They can’t see or hear but have a keen sense of smell that can track down prey with swift accuracy. There is no way I can outrun this creature, but maybe I can outsmart it. 

Oddly enough it is traveling alone. Usually, they hunt in clans. If that were the case tonight I’d be done for. This one must be aging or injured. I can tell every movement it makes is filled with excruciating pain. Bones protrude all over its body. This must be its first meal in weeks. It looks like a walking skeleton with a thin blanket of sheer skin to cover it. Injured or not, it can still overpower me. I must play my cards right if I plan to escape with my life. 

It angles its face towards the sky in an attempt to sniff out whatever has interrupted its meal. The metallic scent of my car conceals my scent, so it doesn't even know I am right in front of it. I hold my breath for what feels like an eternity, waiting for it to give up and saunter off. The minutes tick slowly as it makes its way across the road, dragging its meal with it. I exhale in time to save my lungs from exploding. That was too close for comfort. I give it a few more minutes, making certain it’s distracted with its kill before continuing the drive.

I press on the gas ever so softly, moving only a few inches forward every agonizing minute. I forget all about the crack in the window as my scent slowly makes its way to the slit of his nostrils. It bares its sharpened teeth letting out a guttural growl into the night, followed by piercing screams. It hunches down on all fours, beginning a stalking crawl back to the road. I shut my eyes and begin counting, waiting, and hoping it doesn’t attract a bigger clan with its wails. Every breath of mine comes out shakily. 

I sit there in silence, contemplating my next move when my car is suddenly hit from the side with the force of a semi. The Feral has sent me catapulting in the air. The car rolls into the dense bush, finally landing upright nearly missing a steep cliff drop below. If it weren’t for my seatbelt I would surely have been ejected through the window. Not that my current situation is any better. At least that would have been a quick death. Now the Feral is toying with me. I can hear the scrambling of feet outside, though I refuse to open my eyes. 

I hear it shuffling deeper into the forest until the sound eventually fades. I unbuckle myself and check my extremities. Finding nothing to be broken, I move through the car, picking up any items that I could use as a weapon should it decide to return. The best I can find is an old steel baseball bat. I bought it in high school in the hopes I could make friends by joining the softball team. The bat remained in purgatory in my backseat because neither of us ever made it to practice.  It will certainly come in handy now.  I also located the old pocket knife dad got me years ago tucked under the floor mat. I hook it to my pant loop, making sure it is easily accessible when I need it. 

I take a few deep breaths to ready myself for whatever is about to go down outside this car. I open the door, careful to avoid making any noise that might call the creature back to me. Although the attempt is futile. I stand outside the car, not moving a muscle. It’s still out there, and my scent is being freely carried through the wind. It’ll find me again. Running is useless. I situate my bat over my shoulder and brace myself. His howls come first, followed by a silver blur running towards me at full speed. I grip my bat, close my eyes, and lean back to swing at the slimy pale-white creature like it’s a piñata. I miss him by a landslide, and the bat connects with a nearby tree with so much force it sends electric shocks up my arm. 

The creature takes advantage of my stupidity by pouncing on me, its shrieking cries blaring through my eardrum. The strength that it possesses is astounding. It might be disadvantaged in relation to its brethren, but that doesn’t mean it still can’t take me down. I stand 5 feet tall at a whopping 100 lbs soaking wet. A strong wind could take me down.

We roll about the forest floor each in a struggle to gain control. I try my hardest to grasp at its useless, glowing eyes until I finally gouge one out. Unfortunately for me, it only angered the creature even more. The fury gives the feral creature enough of a boost that it manages to pin me to the ground under its weight. It does not immediately go for the kill, but takes in my scent, relishing in its victory. Its rotting odor is absolutely revolting. Long and sharp claws cause deep lacerations on my arms. It runs its black tongue down my exposed skin, leaving a glob of sticky gray saliva in its wake. It readies itself to devour me. I shudder violently in disgust. Thick goo continues to drop from its open mouth.

 As it makes its way up my neck, then to my face, I do the only thing that is left in my arsenal. I open my mouth and bite down on its foul, grimy tongue until the force is strong enough to slice it in half. Distressed wails can be heard echoing through the forest, and it grabs at its face in pain, giving me the perfect momentum to reach for my knife while it’s distracted. I slash through its torso in motions that serial killers would be proud of. It writhes in pain but continues to fight back slashing at me with its claws. I keep going through the intense pain, making sure it doesn’t stand a chance at living. Knowing good and well that I wouldn't get another chance if it caught a second wind. 

The creature sends pained shrieks into the night and limps away holding its bleeding mouth in the palms of its hands. I lay there in complete shock, willing my body to move but frozen in place. I gather my thoughts, breathe in deeply the fresh scents of the forest and take inventory of what is left of me. 

My face is covered in deep lacerations from the altercation, burning as wet dirt mixed with my blood. I don't even want to think of the atrocious birds’ nest atop my head. I could stay here and let my body recover, but the Feral was sure to return to finish me off. The only option was to move and move fast. 

It’s all on foot from here, I think to myself. 

I pull myself up off the floor, feeling like death, and stumble my way back to the main road. My body screams in protest but I continue down the path. I will walk until I reach recognizable landmarks. Hopefully, nothing finds me before then. 

Mid-thought I am interrupted by the rumble of an old engine driving towards me, its headlights make their appearance moments later. My clothes are tattered, soaked by the disgusting blood of the Feral mixed with my own, and I am covered with slashes. Any regular person driving by would see me and scream with worry and horror. But the truck coming towards me isn’t just any random person. I would recognize that engine from miles away. My parents. I keep walking already annoyed. 

“Sweetheart! Honey, is that you?” my mom screams over the obnoxious engine.

“We came looking for you after you didn’t make it home on time,” she continues.

Fashionably late as always, I snicker.

“Sweetheart, I understand that it was Halloween, but your outfit is a bit much don’t you think? You look like you nearly escaped an ax murderer,” she jokes. 

I stop in my tracks, turn towards them menacingly with my fists balled at my sides. 

“You have no idea,” I scowl. 

My mom reaches over and opens the rusted door to the single cab, inviting me into the safety of their truck. The spiteful side of me wants to defiantly walk the rest of the way home, but frankly, I am ready to collapse. So I climb in resentfully, cursing them under my breath. I really wish my car wasn’t totaled right now. 

“No offense sweetpea but you kinda stink. Did you get lured into the marshes by the whistles of shapeshifters again?” Her laugh boils my blood. 

“No, but I finally made the acquaintance of a Feral. Nice guy. I’m sure the rest of them are a jolly ole’ bunch,” I retort. 

“Maybe if you left earlier you wouldn’t have put yourself in the situation of encountering one, to begin with, love. You know how we feel about you traveling at night. It’s not safe out here anymore,” my mom says. Blithely. Nonchalantly. Blasé. I want to slap her.

And did she just victim-blame me?  I look to my father in hopes he could come to my rescue and my mother notices. 

“Oh, sorry sweetie, daddy can’t talk much right now. He bit his tongue something awful last night and seems to be in a lot of pain.”

My father slowly started making his way down the road towards their hidden home. Something clicked in my mind so stunningly I completely forgot about my totaled car left in the trees. My breath is stuck in the back of my throat and I sink slowly into the depths of the bench. My mother warmly rubs my shoulder and pulls me slightly in towards her torso as she presses her cheek to my temple.

“Not to worry honey, I will make you some tea and all will be forgotten”. Without even looking I could tell she had a gentle smile on her face. 

I let out a sigh and resigned myself into my mother’s side hug. Tea sounds nice. Not nearly as stiff of a drink that I need, but nice nonetheless. I closed my eyes and felt the morning sun caress my face. Another thought floated into my mind at that moment. The sudden realization that maybe my parents weren’t stalling the moving process due to indecision after all. I look at my father, at the way his skin glistens in the morning daylight, a sickly grey color that I never noticed until now. How beads of sweat run down the side of his face, as if he has been fighting off a cold that can’t be shaken. 

My dad grunts angrily from the drivers’ side, obviously uncomfortable and grabbing at his sore jaw. The remnants of crusted blood collect on the corner of his mouth, his eyes send daggers in my direction. 

“So sorry that this has been such an inconvenience for you,” I say with the sass of a pre-teen.

I just want my cup of tea.