Horror Inspired

A breath blown in heavy air scraped diagonally, at angles, from Pedri’s neck –where skin let his vertebrae shew through to (nearly) tendons at his throat’s side. Shade was cast from his right jaw over his right shoulder. Drops of light bobbed in his eyes as they listed to their right corners. Behind him a cabin quiet. Wood planks wore skins of dust and scars where paler inner wood showed through. Corners had broken off –tripped below the floorboards, a place which couldn’t be seen. Pedri’s shoulders rotated as he faced the back door which hung askew like a humpback’s arm and shoulder. Snowpowder blues deepened into hues indistinct from black birch trees in the backyard. They surrounded the house. Yellow strokes curved across Pedri’s ear, near where it comes to a hole. He could here: a far-off voice pushing through the air, snow soaking up vibrations, and the absence of crickets humming for mates. Healthy brown, a color one of God’s trees or deer would be happy to wear, made the skin of his boots. He walked across the room and let himself through the handicapped porta with a slap.

Whatever shirt or jeans he wore were covered by his bushy jacket. It looked like something a Russian might wear while patrolling a Siberian work-camp or an extravagant mark of style for an American actress in 1927. Behind him were wooden planks, each higher one laid so its’ lower edge jutted in front of the top edge of the board beneath it. Homey shutters adorned well-repaired windows. They’d been kept clean of spiderwebs. Were it spring this cabin would manage an inviting face. Pedri’s jaw was loose, not clamped. At any moment it might lower. He looked from left to right, leaning on his heels, then withheld a sigh at a sight without people. There! Something scuffled. Pedri knew what.

Running after its’ last position he took out the axe. Madri was killed with this. He did his best to wipe off her browning decay; it reminded him of seeing that thing swing into her diaphragm, slunking in the bladehead heavily, pulling it out of the trench it dug with a pucker, hacking finger-depth cuts into her sides and stomach, blood quietly exiting, streaming outward, the carpet couldn’t soak it fast enough…

His ears lean out. Beneath the sound of running boots leaving stomps in dirt is a scratchy sprint. Soon Pedri can’t hear either over his own breathing. Lungs have to fight the air to for▓ swung back as a reflex, staggered, caught with his left leg, slashed across his hip, tried to hit it, it went right he went after, sent a blow for its’ head, caught the axe in a tree, teeth jumped for his wrist, he had it by the throat.

Bastard’s claws were sharp enough to slit Pedri through his jacket-sleeves. Cut your fingertip with a serrated knife and you’ll know what it feels like. But he took it. Holding his breath, red faced, he strangled that little thing. It gargled and coughed gagged and sputtered under his weight. He was on top of it, shoulders up, square, kneeling, bearing all his weight diagonally forward and down, hurting his fingers with the pressure he put on its’ throat, pushing for a collapse, crushing. Its’ throat gave way. It was no longer tight but squishy. Tiny arms fell. Snow burst up as hands hit it. Open, tawny eyes stared at Pedri dead. He rocked back and forth some crying. Gasps of breath let him sob and shake. Veins stretched his skin and wrinkles ruffled at the sides of his tight, tearful eyes. He let his palms relax. The pain in them, unnoticed, dissipated. His shoulders sagged as he stood and turned around. A tree lent support as he let his back slide down it. Pedri kept the killer in sight. That monster. Then he was quiet, looking out at a mountaintop forest without focusing on anything.

Madri had said that she thought they’d disturbed its’ nest. That’s why it killed Guand, Tilliam, Suze, Allison, Rekale…

She said…if he went to the cabin where it all started it’d show up again. He just had to wait until night because it must be nocturnal. It only acted where light wouldn’t touch it. Take this with you. He took the axe and went to finish whatever creature he’d fought off.

Pedri stood again. Two steps and he could see it better. Brown eyes trailed over dirty feet, battered knees, a stretched stomach, chesthair, shoulders thinner than its’ hips, and a long face. Its’ nose stretched out farther than its’ fingers did from its’ hands. Before it had a handsome face. In death it could almost be a deformed human. Pedri tilted his head to look where a little of the cabin’s light fell between its’ thighs. What had he dealt with? If he moved the body (dragging it) into better light he would know. But he left it untouched.

Once again Pedri looked about himself, standing, alert. He wanted to have friendly noise for company in the lonely silence yet he wouldn’t break his mind’s solemnity by talking to himself.

He walked towards the cabin to look for the path back.