#all of the little details I'm tearing into them like a feast like the description of flowers not blooming brightly aughhhh

[noturprobiem]

a little horror piece i wrote

cw: blood, a description of a dead body, a mention of cannibalism for a second

I have had a fascination with the forest since early childhood. My parents took me there to pick berries and mushrooms every autumn and those were my happiest moments back then. So, when it was time to go again, right after my eleventh birthday, I was ecstatic. 

It was truly a beautiful sight. Red and yellow leaves a blanket on the wet, cold ground, lush tree crowns of gold and bronze shining in the morning sun. I loved the way air smelled then, of dump grass and fresh dirt, of bark and pine.

You need to be covered head to toe in thick clothes to protect you from mite and thorns, so you walk and move slowly. It's not very cold this time of year, but after hours and hours outside your cheeks and nose become pink and itchy. Well, as a child I didn't care about anything other than getting my basket full of the best mushrooms I could find and eating as much berries as possible. Nothing could convince me it was time to head home. Nowadays you can't pay me enough to spend even a minute in the woods.

We were far from the only family there, now and again I saw someone pass by, sometimes even with dogs, which I liked very much as a kid. I remember telling my parents that we should get a dog, too, so it can protect us from wild animals, which only made them chuckle. 

I don't really remember how I got lost. After so many years I might have imagined so many details that weren't even there, so many thoughts and feelings that I retroactively assigned to a child who just wandered off into the woods. However, when I think of that time, all that comes to mind is that I felt compelled to see where a path hidden between two wide tree trunks would lead me. I walked and walked until I almost reached a clearing and stopped, frozen in place. Only then I noticed a rhythmic, moist sound of chewing. A sudden gust of wind brought a metallic smell of blood and meat with it. There was something big and moving behind the last row of trees. I held my breath and covered my mouth with my hand. Dad taught me that you should never run or scare a hungry wild animal, so I stayed put, refusing to even take a peek. I could feel my heart pumping blood in my temples, my hands and legs shaking with every escaping gasp as the sound of tearing flesh came again and again. I didn't cry. I was too focused on surviving.

But after a long, long time I couldn't take it anymore. I looked. What was before me did not look like any real animal but every description I gave made adults sure it was an elk. It was massive, with giant deer antlers, its limbs smooth and dark, stretched and bent in unnatural ways. But I can swear that its face didn't look like anything I've seen before. It's neck twisted to reveal a flat, round muzzle with big black eyes staring straight into my soul. I stared back. With every passing second my heart accelerated and I was ready for it to stop for good. But the creature made a few small steps away, as if inviting me to feast together. This was when I saw its prey.

It was a hunter, with his chest torn open, a gun still lying on the ground near him. I gulped and shook my head. The creature looked at me and tilted its head to the side like a curious puppy. I did the same, hoping it would think I was a friend. Somehow, it worked. It continued its feast without me, only pausing sometimes to look at me. Like it was asking if I'm sure I don't want to join.

When my legs started to ache and only the skeleton was left from the poor guy, it left, turning its head one last time to look at me. I fell to the ground and wept for what seemed like hours until I felt like there was nothing to cry with anymore. I got up and went back where I came from, my legs shaking. But when I heard the voices and finally found my way to the main path, my parents weren't scared at all. 

“What, you saw something interesting in the bushes?” Mom asked.

I nodded. And dragged myself after them for hours. Red berries made me want to throw up, mushrooms reminded me of skin and flesh, and I was throwing up for days without any reason, which made my parents scared that I ate the wrong mushroom. And even after the doctors said I was fine, they decided this was our last trip to the forest.

Of course, I wasn't going to argue with that.

#phlox writing #horror #writing #written for fun #monsters #mystical horror #amateur writer #baby's first horror story #cw: gore #cw blood #cw death #cw horror