Watchers

I shared this here some time ago and wanted to share it again because something cool happened with this. I decided to submit this to a writing challenge and was shortlisted as a finalist. Though I didn’t win, it’s still exciting to see this little spooky story get somewhere. Enjoy!

Contest shortlist

“Just follow the lights, and you will be home before you know it.”

I repeat Mama’s words to myself like a prayer. If I say them enough times, maybe I will stop hearing all the creaks and cracks of the nearly pitch-black forest around me. As long as I keep the small flickering lights on either side of me, I know I am heading in the right direction.

Those who do not know these woods lose themselves. The safe path through the twisted pines is not easy to find. If I did not know any better, I would be tempted to take what looks like shortcuts. But the true passage winds through knee-high weeds, overgrown roots, and branches with their claws reaching for those who brave the darkness.

A strange almost tingle arises on the back of my neck, like the skin itself is crawling. You are only scared because you are alone, that is all.

I think the lights are fireflies. After all, they fade in and out like a carefully choreographed dance. If it was not the dead of night and maybe I had the company of someone else, I would find the display beautiful. But it is far too quiet to appreciate anything, and all that is running through my mind is how the darkness in front of me is starting to feel like a void pressing in.

Wait. It is too quiet. Should there not be the constant chirp of crickets and their other nocturnal friends?

A mutilated branch of a long dead oak tree catches my cheek. I lose my focus, and my foot locks into a root. I stumble for only a second before I am able to steady myself and rub at the small cut that is already formed below my eye.

Snap. Crack. Pop.

It is only the branches of the trees settling, I tell myself.

"No matter what you hear, do not be afraid of the darkness ahead of you. The lights are your path."

Mama has made this journey many times, but her reassurances still are not quite enough to keep the hair from standing up on the back of my neck. I just need to keep my focus.

The silence save for the occasional crack is becoming increasingly difficult to ignore. Where are the crickets? The trills and croaks of the frogs? Our house at the edge of the forest is constantly overwhelmed by the sound of bugs and night life. Why are they not here? Is the forest itself not their home?

What are they hiding from?

For the first time since my trek began, I face the lights head on, hoping they will relieve my growing sense of dread.

Flicker, flicker, flicker.

I lock in on two that are alighting on and off in tandem. At the exact same time.

And the two next to those do the same.

And the two next to those.

All the blood in my body drops to my feet, and bile arises in my throat.

Eyes.