Where the Forest Bites

Where the Forest Bites

Long, deep scratches were embedded into the wooden door. Flakes had gotten shaved off and were lying on the doormat in a pile. It was not her doing, nor her husband's. The weather wasn't at fault either. 1, 2, 3, 4. 4 pieces, all smacked down beneath her husband's shoe. "You won't be long will you?" asked Mrs. Huxley.

He gave her the grin, the you're paranoid grin. Resettling the hat on his head, he walked over to the door and opened it effortlessly. It creaked and whined. "I never am."

"No, I suppose you're not."

Ben smiled bright, gave her a nod, and turned. The cold wind blew past his short locks of curly brown hair. The air brushed past her too, cooling her red cheeks and slapping her mind into action. "Hold on now, hold on for a moment." She reached out to grasp his wrist, but didn't dare lay her fingers around his skin. Ben turned, befuddled. "Carol-"

"You told me you'd talk to Mrs. Northcott today."

He groaned. "Not that again."

She darted her eyes down to the doormat. "It's getting worse."

"It's the wind, Carol."

Her heart squirmed, for a part of her believed his words; a part of her wanted to believe them. I am simply paranoid, a hysteric woman desperate not to be alone. Yet, every fibre of her being felt hunted in this forest, like something was always watching, waiting for a moment where the wind would disguise its loud steps, a moment where she was alone and defenceless. It had already had its go with the door, the door that had clear claw marks all over it.

"I should get going." Ben repeated. "If you really do want me to chat with Mrs. Northcott about that house offer."

Carol retracted her arm. "Yes, I do."

"Okay." He smiled. "Don't eat the last of the chocolate cake now, I expect to have the last slice for myself."

She smiled dully back at him, a retracted smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. She didn't like it when he left, even if his trips were short and straightforward,

"Goodbye, Carol." His eyes shone of an emotion she couldn't quite make out. Was it pity? Sadness? Perhaps, somewhere deep inside, it was fear, the same fear she felt. Maybe only she accepted the truth; the truth that this cheap, luxurious cabin had been cheap for a reason.

"Goodbye, Ben."

He nodded and closed the door behind himself, and she was left alone, utterly alone. She paced over to the window hanging above the stove. The glass was painted over with orange autumn leaves. They flickered around from the cool wind. Carol pressed a palm against the dewy glass, standing on her tippy-toes to try and see Ben. She got one last look at him as he his head of brown hair disappeared into the equally brown forest.

Everything was frozen and cold at this time of year. Piles of red leaves laid like heaps of shaven skin cells on the undergrowth. It's all alive, she thought, the entire forest, every leaf and every stalk of grass. The thought was supposed to comfort her, bring her relief in the notion that she wasn't all alone out here. Then she realized that perhaps she wasn't afraid of being alone, but afraid of the encroaching woods that was choking the cabin from all sides. For, in fact, a few months ago, hadn't the treeline been so much further away from the house itself? You're paranoid, Carol.

She bent her back to look down into the kitchen cupboards. A darkness met her. The wood creaked and whined, much like the door did. She found the bottle of green soap and pulled it out. Sighing, she applied a generous amount onto the dirty plates in the sink. She'd wash and wash and wash, as she often did while awaiting Ben's return.

The sound of scrubbing filled the room, and didn't abandon it until several, long hours later. The sun was nothing more than a marble in the sky now. The bright, yellow rays of autumn were disappearing for an orange glow; but even that was gradually fading for the purplish black of the approaching evening. He isn't back yet.

Carol shook her head and dried her hands off on the towel slumped over the kitchen counter. He's just taking longer, he has to talk to Mrs. Northcott after all. Yawning, she glanced behind herself up at the stairs leading to the second floor. I should go to bed. She darted her eyes down to the ripped off pieces of wood on the doormat. 1, 2, 3, 4.....5. 5 pieces, all lying neatly on top of the doormat. Her heart skipped a beat. Hadn't there been 4 pieces a few hours ago? Biting her lips, she shook her head. You're paranoid, Carol. You simply miscounted before.

Yet, for several moments, she couldn't look away from the doormat. She kept expecting a new piece to drop off the door and join the rest. But nothing happened. Of course nothing did, when someone was watching. She returned her gaze to the window. It was turning foggy now, covered in a sheen of white, probably from an approaching downpour. She clenched a fist and used it to dry some of it off. The orange forest stared back at her. Ben was nowhere to be seen.

"You really should come back soon." she decided. "Everything is closed now, all the shops, all the markets. Even Mrs. Northcott must be getting ready for bed." Carol paused, trying to ignore the rush of blood in her booming ears. "You better come back Ben, really soon too. I will eat the last piece of the cake. Just watch me, I will."

A long scratching noise emitted from the door. It sounded like a sharp knife gliding from the top of it to the bottom. He's back, she told herself, because she wouldn't allow any other option to be true. Carol walked over to the door with a spring in her step, smiling bright as she curled her hand around the door knob. Just as she did, she happened to look down. 1,2,3,4,5,6,7....8...10...12... There was enough wooden flakes to make a pile. She kicked at it, and the heap fell over, causing a loud cluttering noise. Her heart skipped a beat and she gasped, stumbling away from the door.

The scratching noise continued, making long, slow strokes. The wind whistled and the small amount of leaves remaining on the trees rustled. Those were the only sounds, mixed with the stammering of her heart and the rushing of blood in her ears. There were no birds.

"Ben?" she croaked, a small part of her still holding onto hope.

The scratching halted. Something was shuffling around on the porch, something with claws as sharp as scalpels. The entire bottom of the door was shaved away, she discovered. There wasn't anything left. Cold wind flew inside and nipped at her ankles. Temptation told her to bend down and look out, or at least open the door. But there's nothing there! It's just the wind! And you're just paranoid!

However, her beliefs didn't stop the paw from entering the hole. Its skin was black and grainy like volcanic ashes. Fur coated most of its arm, but there was still the occasional sporadic spot of nakedness. This wasn't the kind of black you might see in a TV screen, or in the midnight sky. This black was deep, alluring, a black hole she seemed unable to gaze away from. It held her eyes. The more she looked, the more she expected to see, but there was nothing. Only blackness.

Carol twisted her gaze away, turning, that's when she met its eyes. They were no bigger than two needle pricks, and white. She took a step back, her hands fumbling for a weapon. She slipped one of the kitchen knives out of a drawer.

The creature was taking its time, it seemed. Perhaps that was lucky. Or perhaps it simply knew she had nowhere to go.

"You stay away from me!" she ordered. "I won't be afraid to use this!" She thrust the knife out in front of herself.

The creature's white eyes pinned onto her. It squeezed itself inside the door, and revealed its back. Tentacles rose from its hide. They moved back and forth in the air, as though reaching for something. Sweat formed in the palms of her hands and clotted to the wooden knife handle. "I will stab you!" she repeated.

The creature remained unfazed and her back hit the wall. It walked slowly. It didn't seem to be in any hurry. Oh god Ben, please oh god come back. But what would he do? Kill it somehow? She tightened her grip on the knife. "Now you listen to me." she said, her voice fiery. "You've been ruining our door haven't you, you little rascal, now why would you do such a thing?"

If it recognised her words, or even heard her at all, it showed no indication that it did. It only continued advancing towards her.

"Well I've warned you!" She threw the knife. It disappeared into the creature's forehead and was swallowed into the deep darkness. It remained uninjured. Her heart squirmed and she gasped.

Carol turned on her heels and ran into the living room. She fumbled with the doorknob of the door leading to the back porch. She didn't dare turn to see if it was following her, but she swore she could feel it's gaze on the back of her neck. Please, please, please.

She ran out the door, stumbling over wet grass. "Ben!" she shouted, her lungs writhing inside of her. "Ben help!"

Grass crunched beneath her feet. She dared to turn her head over her shoulder. She wished she hadn't. The creature was running after her. It didn't really seem to have legs, it flouted effortlessly above the ground instead, as though it was nothing more than a mist.

Carol focused on running away. "Help!" There was no response, and there probably wouldn't be. They had no neighbours, and what kind of hiker went into a forest this overgrown and tick infested? Her ankles ached as she carried herself up the hill of the meadow. The creature behind her was silent. There was absolutely no sound, no footsteps, no breathing, no growling. Nothing at all. The wind continued whistling and the leaves continued rustling, but the creature, it made no noise at all.

Yet she knew it must still be following her. She carried herself through the grasslands, until her ankles ached and her toes felt like they'd gotten stabbed with needles. She gasped in agony, dragging in breaths that were getting sharper and shallower. Carol knew she couldn't hold on for much longer. Soon, her body would give out.

Through the blood rushing past her ears, she noticed the chirp of a bird. I can't do it, I can't do it anymore. Yet it was still another hour before she really did fall. Her chin hit the grass and her legs gave out beneath her.

Lifting her gaze, she saw the gentle beginnings of the morning sun. Have I been running all night? She let her eyes slip closed. She supposed there wouldn't be much left of her, once that thing had its go. The knife had disappeared into it. The same thing would probably happen to her. She wondered if it'd be cold. Or would it feel warm, when she died?

Sweat squelched beneath her armpits. Just take me, just take me and let me rest.

Footsteps crushed frozen grass; the night must've been cold then. "Carol?"

She recognized the voice in the corners of her mind, but didn't have the energy to lift her head, nor open her eyes.

"I got it Carol." Ben said, hope shining through in his voice. "Carol, I got it."

A warm hand wrapped around her shoulder, shaking her gently. "Carol..." It sounded like he was crying. Why was he crying. "Carol, please? Please, Carol...I got the paper."

She heard it unfold and forced an eyelid open.

"Look, I signed the deed, now we can move."

She glanced up at him. His lips were shivering. "Carol, aren't you glad we can move away? We can finally move."

She attempted to speak, but her voice box only squirmed. Ben scooped her up and she felt herself flow into his warm arms. "I'll show it to you." he promised. "It's got two stories, and it's in the middle of the city. There's not a tree in sight."

He carried her for what seemed like hours. But the city wasn't that far away, so where they were going, she wasn't sure. But either way, they did end up in a house. It had two stories, as promised. Ben seemed rather excited about that notion. He talked rapidly and excitedly. She didn't answer him, she didn't think she could, her mouth felt sowed shut. Her lips were chapped and her throat was dry,

"Carol?" He shook her, as though it would help.

She slipped her eyes closed. "Cake." she said.

"What?"

"Could we have some chocolate cake, I'd like some now."

"I swear I'll give you whatever you want." Ben said. "I swear, from now on."

She wondered if he'd seen it. The monster. She wondered if he'd found her with it suckling at her back like a tick. She felt....different. Had he chased it away? Or had the sun shooed it off? She didn't know. But he placed her in a kitchen chair and began pulling out plastic bowls and bags of flour and sugar. He was making her cake, so she really didn't care. She didn't care about anything.