The Bugbear

I don't know why I thought it would have been a good idea to take the long way home. Especially this time of the year. Monsoon season. The man on the news said today's forecast was sunny, but partially clouded. As usual, he was wrong. Sometimes I don't know why they even bother trying to predict the weather when they're rarely ever right.

I suppose it would have been smart to bring an umbrella along just in case, but much like me, I never think too far ahead. So, I began my walk home from school. There was a path that I like to take home that cuts through the forest—the back half of Mr. Jenkins' property. I don't think he ever minded, as I had done so for years prior without out any protest from him.

As I walked, the storm rapidly picked up. The wind howled through the trees, and the rain became a torrential downpour. My backpack was getting soaked, and my paper that I had been working on was inside it. I tried to quicken my pace, but the storm was coming in too strong, and too quick for me to make it home without ruining all of my hard work.

I veered off the path and down the sloping side of it toward the creek. There was a bridge that had been there for decades, maybe longer, but it was suitable enough to take cover under. At least until the storm began to pass.

Mud was caked on my shoes as I climbed up underneath and crouched, bracing my arms around my knees. I figured that it wouldn't be too long until that heavy grey cloud passed as they often do. But I was content to bide my time watching the flowing water pass and listening to the thunder that continuously rolled through. I was never in a rush these days, not since mom passed. Dad had taken up drinking in the wake of it and was more than likely still passed out on the couch—right where I left him.

As I watched, the once small creek began flowing harder and harder. The water was pushing up the bank and I scooted farther up under the bridge away from it. There was a loud snapping of branches, and I turned my head. I expected the flash of lightning, or the boom of thunder, but definitely not what I saw.

As I stayed huddled and hidden under the safety of the bridge, I watched as two giant fur covered feet stomped past. Water splashed me as it effortlessly padded through the creek. I sat there frozen and gaping at it, but I had no idea what I was actually looking at. It didn't look bear-like, and though bears can walk upright, this was bigger, and the color didn't fit for a bear either.

Once it passed, I slipped from under the bridge, and jumped across the speeding current. I peered around the edge of the bridge, enough to see the creature weaving its way through the trees. It was enormous, and much like its legs and feet, it was covered in greyish white fur. I watched as the creature ducked under branches and found myself following along behind it. I needed to know what the hell I was seeing.

I thought of the bedtime stories my mother had once told me as a child, the ones of a giant creature that protected the forest, but those were surely just stories. Or so I had thought.

The giant continued deeper into the woods, farther than I myself had ever dared to go, but still I followed—through the rain, occasionally ducking behind a tree so it didn't spot me. Until it entered a cave in the center of the forest.

The ground sloped upward around the stoney entrance. I stayed behind a nearby tree, partially leaned out trying to peer into that dark cave, but I couldn't see inside.

My better judgement told me to just go home. Go home and change into dry clothes and wrap myself in the thick wool blanket my mother had made for me. But my curiosity was overpowering. I knew I shouldn't, but I stepped out from behind that tree anyway and walked toward the opening of the cave.

It was dry inside and dark. There was also a warmth that radiated from deeper within. I carefully placed my steps, making sure not to crunch the gravel or disturb any loose rocks. I just wanted a peek—to see its face. The passage declined, and as I turned, I found light from a fire burning inside. The creature, whatever it was, was not there. This part of the cave was more open with the fire centered in it, and there was another passageway that led deeper. I remained at my spot, peering from around the corner—listening.

All I could hear was the crackle from the fire as it burned, but nothing else. So, I waited silently for it to return from where it had gone. I told myself that as soon as I saw it, I'd run. I would run and not look back until I got home.

Moments passed and it still hadn't shown its face. I wondered how deep this cave actually went. I didn't even know it had existed before today and had never heard mention of it either. As I looked around the cave, I noticed that there was a large broken piece of a log beside the fire, as well as a stack of wood. Not typical of a bear at all.

Then I heard it, from somewhere deep inside . . . it growled. That growl echoed all the way through the passage, reverberating off the stone. I stilled instantly. Frozen in place as I listened and looked wide-eyed for any sign of it. Loud steps—stomping came from the opposite passage. I couldn't move, couldn't hardly breathe as I waited for it. In my mind, I was screaming at myself to go, to run before it found me and this ended badly. What it would do to my father if he lost me as well, but I couldn't turn away. I had to know.

The creature emerged from the passage; head bowed to the floor due to its height, and it moved to sit upon the broken log. I watched as it stoked the fire, and as it finally rose its head, I gasped—it had a wide mouth full of sharp teeth, and pointed ears. Its snout was too flat to have been a bear, and I knew it wasn't. Whatever this was, was far from normal. And it had heard me.

The thing whipped its head my direction and let loose a roar so loud that the soundwaves almost sent me sprawling backward. I broke into a run—faster than I had ever moved before. I shot through the passageway, and I heard the stomping of its feet as it rapidly closed in on me. I just had to make it out of the cave, then I could surely get away. Out to the woods, Mr. Jenkins property wasn't too far off, and if I could make it there, I knew I'd be safe.

I didn't dare to look back, if only to keep from tripping or running into a tree. But I could still hear it as it chased me—out of the cave and into the woods. I shed my backpack so I could run faster and hoped that maybe it would distract the thing long enough to gain any sort of distance.

It worked, only slightly, it slowed it long enough to realize what I'd done and then it began running after me again. Through the treetops, I could see smoke from Mr. Jenkins chimney billowing up and blending with the grey of the sky. I had my direction now.

My lungs burned as I raced toward it, and finally, I reached the backside of Mr. Jenkins house. I ran to the front and began banging on the door, screaming for him to open up. It had to have only been a few short moments before he opened the door, but it felt endless as I waited, frantically hoping that the creature wouldn't find me.

Mr. Jenkins opened his door with a shotgun in hand. I knew he wasn't the social type, as he never left his house, but surely, he would understand how grave the situation was. If only I had a chance to explain it to him. But he just stood there—gun pointed directly at me. I held my hands up as I began to hurriedly explain, "Please let me in Mr. Jenkins," I said heaving for air, "there's something chasing me." Mr. Jenkins' brow furrowed, and he leaned out of the doorway to look past me, to the thing that was now walking slowly up to the house. He huffed and nudged me back with the barrel. I looked at him in shock and surprise. I thought there was no way he would just leave me out here with this thing. But he did. He shut the door and let the beast claim me.