My home out in the country is far removed from the hustle and bustle of the city, but that is the way I like it. Silence and solitude are my reasons for being. That and the gifts that the forest beyond my backyard offers up.
I sip on a steaming mug of coffee and watch the sun come up over the trees. The rays make it appear as though the red and orange foliage is on fire, and while it is cold outside, the sight warms my heart.
Slipping on a warm jacket and grabbing a tote bag, I head outside and march off towards the forest. The woods are deep and dense, but I know each part of it like the back of my hand, so there is no fear of ever getting lost and becoming like what I seek.
As I walk, I brush my right foot back and forth across the blanket od dead leaves. Some days, there is nothing to discover, but the forest always finds a way to deliver. The moment my foot strikes something, hidden below the leaves, I know that today is going to be a good one.
I reach down and brush away the leaves, exposing a layer of bleached white. My heart races as the skull takes shape, not because of the find itself, but because it looks different. I tend to find squirrels, deer, and other common woodland creatures, but this is different. It is, to my eyes, not of this world.
The skull is large, the cranium bulbous. The eye sockets are huge, and I imagine inky black eyes staring back at me, distant galaxies shining within. The jaw is smaller, a pair of large teeth pointing down from the upper portion. I slip my find into my tote back and turn to head home.
After a few short steps, I begin to feel uneasy. The skin on the nape of my neck prickles and I get the sense that there are eyes on me, watching my every move. I pick up my pace and think about running, about dumping the skull and begging for forgiveness to whatever things I have insulted by removing this treasure from their burial ground.
I tell myself that it is all in my head, that I am truly alone in my forest. The footsteps tracking me tell me otherwise, and when the things emerge from the trees to surround me, I become overwhelmed with fear. Dropping to my knees, I reach into the bag and offer up the skull. The creatures surround me make clicking sounds, talking to one another in a language that sounds older than time. They do not sound pleased.
As they descend upon me, I can only wonder if anyone will ever come this way and find my bones beneath the leaves.
So good.
Great horror often lives and breathes in the woods. Love the story.