Chance Encounter

It was a cold Wednesday in October, right after the sun had set. 

I was on my way to visit my mother, who lived an hour outside of town. My car broke down five minutes out, right at the edge of the forest that surrounds her property. My phone had also been broken earlier that day, when someone running through a crowded sidewalk knocked it out of my hand; so I couldn’t call anyone. Nothing for it then, I suppose I could use the exercise. The trees were sparse, and the moon was full and unclouded tonight; it should be safe. 

Fifteen minutes into my walk, I started to hear them. Footsteps, whispers. I told myself it was alright, as a shiver went up my spine- that I was hearing perfectly normal, harmless animals. But oh, how wrong I was... After another five minutes, I started to smell something; it was thick, cloying; sharp and sweet at the same time. That’s when I saw the corpse, all fur and bones and blood. I couldn’t identify what exactly it was, some rodent if I had to guess. I kept walking until the body was almost out of sight. 

Then it hit me: that was no roadkill, it looked torn apart, not smushed into the ground. But the corpse was untouched by scavengers... What creature would do that, not for food, but for sport? Shaken, my pace sped up, and I cast my focus around in search of whatever monster was forming in my head.

A branch cracked nearby, to my left and out of sight. I whirled around, my hands held up protectively, with a whimper on my lips. From out of the brush stalked a large wolf, its fur coat black and shiny, sniffing the forest floor. The wolf looked up, its eyes landing on me, and my breath caught. Is this how I die? Yet, something in its gaze... I studied the beast more closely, and noticed it seemed calm: its fur was unruffled, its muscles relaxed, and it was as quiet as a ghost. Plus, the look in its eye. Perhaps it is foolhardy to attach human emotions to an animal, but it almost felt like it pitied me. 

I carefully lowered my arms and tried to breathe normally. Maybe I would get out of this unscathed. I started to back up, my eyes never leaving the wolf; it simply stared, eyes calm and unfathomably deep. 

From behind me came another crack. 

This time, the wolf growled, hackles raising, as it prepared to pounce on whatever stood behind me. I took a breath, then spun around while dodging sideways, hoping to put a nearby tree between me and whatever had appeared, and allowing the wolf to face it head-on. For a moment, I saw nothing; just the trees rustling with a slight breeze. Then they stopped, the wind dying down to nothing, and I realized I could hear no sound, see no movement. It was as if the forest was holding its breath. Then it exhaled, and from the shadows stepped a creature of nightmare. 

It stood greater than six feet, with black leathery skin hanging off it in folds. Two sets of cruel-looking horns grew from its head, emaciated to the point of literal skin and bone. Its head was vaguely shaped like a deer, except wrong. The snout was too long, its forehead misshapen. Two glowing red dots stared out of the otherwise empty eye sockets, not actual eyes but simple pinpricks of light. I tore my focus from the thing’s face and noticed in one of its gangly, clawed hands it held a corpse, saturated in blood and missing its head. 

The wolf let out a vicious snarl and launched itself at the monster, startling me into motion. I stumbled away, tripping over nothing and landing hard on the forest floor. Ripping my eyes from the scene, I got to my feet and ran. I lost time in my fear, the world going by in snapshots, and one terrifying moment when the creature screamed and shook the whole forest. Before I knew it, I was at my mother’s house, the soft, warm lights seemingly welcoming me with open arms. I saw my mother through the window, pacing the living room and her brow creased with worry; I wanted nothing more than to fall into my mother’s arms and forget this nightmare. 

I don’t remember walking the rest of the way to the house, but before my knuckles could make contact with the door, a wave of kinetic energy blasted out from the house and knocked me flat on my back. Dazed, I got to my feet and tried again, to the same effect. I ran to the window, and fearing the same attack, waved my arms and yelled out at my mother. Her pacing continued unperturbed, unable to hear me. Exhausted, I stumbled back, mind racing as to what was happening. I heard a quiet rustle and turned, fearing I had led the monster here. Instead, the wolf appeared, injured but alive, and covered in a mixture of its own blood and the monster’s black ichor. It took in my panicked eyes and quick breath and whined softly. The relief of seeing my savior, and not the creature, crumpled my knees and I hit the ground. The wolf slowly limped up to me, and unthinkingly I reached out to touch the creature; instead of feeling the soft texture of its unblemished fur, my hand went right through it. The wolf whined softly again, looking me in the eyes, and then turned and stared at something nearby. I also turned, feeling like the wolf was trying to show me something. 

There, lying half-obscured under one of my mother’s wild rosebushes, was the head of the corpse the monster carried. In the light of the moon, I could make out its face, which was turned towards me. My breath stopped, and I felt no instinct to start again. 

For I was looking into my own glassy eyes.