I hope you enjoy this excerpt. Thank you for reading.
Renee worked her way through the uneven brush, stepping over and around cumbersome tree roots, prickly vegetation, rocks, innumerable sink-holes. Having gone more than thirty feet, she came to the Interstate and followed the narrow shoulder. Horrid scenarios clouded her mind: Where was Paul? Was he alive? Was he far away from the car? Did he walk out on her? These ruminations wreaked havoc on her psyche. She once again started hearing odd sounds, nuances of the night, every sound as unbearable as the first, as she trudged alone in the dark, in the middle of nowhere.
Renee strode the sinuous road. No signs of life. Thirty minutes passed. Searching the area with her flashlight, she came across a fluorescent mile marker—bloodstained—and approached it. A series of unnerving scenarios unfurled; her forehead pounded, her stomach soured, her body became tremulous. Stepping closer to the sign, bending over, she aimed her flashlight at the thick blood concealing the numbers, examined further. Moments later, upright again, quivering as if she were cold, tears glistened on her sweat-coated face. It had to be Paul’s blood. Somebody’s taunting me, she thought. Questions came swiftly; answers remained elusive. How did the stains get there? What had happened to him? Was he suffering somewhere? Why had she been left untouched, unharmed? She surveyed her surroundings, desperate to find a path to safety, or a passerby, or a distant dwelling. Renee pointed the light in every direction—high, low, left, right—but found nothing, not a grain of hope, not a clue. She had to pull herself together. Paul was out there, he had to be, and she would not leave him behind, even if it meant paying with her life. She would find Paul, rescue him, and for once in her life be altruistic.
Renee re-entered the woods where, some ten feet beyond the border, she came across Paul’s watch dangling from the nub of a broken branch. She jumped back, dropping her flashlight. The light died out on contact with the ground, engulfing her in total black. All her nightmarish thoughts and visions had culminated into this one harrowing scene, one which had seized her heart and mercilessly ripped it out. Renee screamed “Paul” in dry, painful bursts. “Where are you?” she howled, “where are you?”
With her sanity faltering she had to stay poised and search for Paul—dead or alive. The bloody watch called to mind countless possibilities of what Paul had been pitted against in the dangerous forest, what had been the unthinkable result, and whether he had had a chance, a fraction of a second, even, to think of her one last time. Not knowing the answers to these questions instilled in her the strength to continue on. She picked up the flashlight and tapped the head a few times, hoping the beam would rekindle, but it gave off only weak light, no more than that of a penlight. Using this faint light, she advanced, Paul’s wristwatch clasped in her hand. She fingered the blood-stained band, eyed the compass. Though she had sufficient light to read the device, she lacked the sense of direction to interpret it. And why? Because whenever Paul had tried to demonstrate its function, she ignored him; instead she focused all her attention on reading the tabloids or watching mindless talk-shows. Paul couldn’t understand her choices. He had asked her time and again why someone so bright and so level-headed would waste her time with such rubbish, with delving into the lives of people she didn’t know. He had always teased her, and she had always laughed it off. What she wouldn’t give now to have that all back. Maybe curl up next to him on the couch while he played with his watch like a little kid, and kissed her, thanking her for the thoughtful gift.
Renee’s eyes had adjusted to the dark, to some degree. She could make out silhouettes of trees and brush and rocks and other objects. She hated to imagine what the other shapes were, the ones she couldn’t as easily identify. The mind, the imagination, tends to go haywire at these times, calling forth any number of disturbing possibilities. What was out there? Who was out there? She pondered returning to the car, if she could find her way back, but without keys, a pointless idea. She would not be any safer there than she was here. Besides, she was exhausted, she had ventured far, had gone way off course. Changing tactics now would be a grave, indisputable mistake. She moved ahead, a few feet per stride; her socks torn open, her exposed toes taking a beating. She came to a tangle of vines and thorny brush, pressed through them, and their tentacle-like branches clawed at her lower body like razor blades. Wincing, respiring heavily, she kept going. The farther she walked, the more nastily the branches groped her flesh. It was as if the wicked forest had come to life and had set an inescapable trap. Sparse moonlight breached the treetops. As she stepped between two crisscrossing tree limbs, something mushy grazed her cheek, leaving behind a slimy residue. Touching the chunky gelatin-like substance and smelling it, the rancid odor nauseated her, spiking her horror. She started running, faster and faster, gaining more ground, and came to a massive tree. Bracing herself against it, she waited for the nausea to recede. Though Renee was disoriented and out of breath, with outstretched arms she felt around her. After a short pause, she started moving again, her steps slower and more deliberate as she probed more thoroughly the immense, claustrophobic forest.
A noise in the distance. Then another noise, closer than the first. And another. Renee couldn’t discern anything unusual in her vicinity. As she tried to find out where she was and what was around her, she suddenly found, standing merely six feet in front of her, wrapped in the darkness, an enormous shape. A man? An animal? Renee had no idea what it was. Nor did it matter. Petrified, she back-stepped. The form emitted an abnormal sound, a sound she’d never heard, a deep, disturbing groan. Her body felt heavy, a shudder of doom came next. Stiff, her pulse abnormal, she wanted to bellow, but not a sound came from her parched, raw mouth. The figure still hadn’t moved. She could hear it breathing, she could smell its repulsive odor, and see slightly more of its human form as slim shafts of moonbeams bled through the canopy of pines. Renee and the stranger were at a standstill. Renee managed to say: “Do you—?”
No chance for her to finish. Her words were cut short by the towering figure as it bolted toward her. Renee turned and ran as fast as she could, gasping for breath, tears saturating her face, the salty sediment creeping into her mouth. Behind her, rapid footfalls made crunching sounds, groundcover got trampled, and all obstacles gave way to the mad rush. Barberry—tall, thick, and overgrown—ruthlessly sliced her arms, her legs, her face, and her feet twisted and slipped over the chunky terrain. She could hear her pursuer sucking in breaths; and then came a nefarious scream. “Your turn! Your turn!”
Renee, her body ridden with pain and cuts and bruises, crossed the woods edge and made it to the street, her stamina somehow holding strong. She ran hard, sustained her pace, no longer hearing her antagonist on her trail. Had he given up chase? Unlikely. Renee felt blood worming down her arms and legs, and down the road, not far beyond her field of vision, the most miraculous sight she had ever seen: a set of headlights slicing a path through the darkness, renewing within her a smidgen of hope. Moving in its direction she picked up speed.
Thrilling suspense. It reminds ne of old horror movies where you don't get to see what's going on, but it is building up fright as it goes, holding a few jump-scares without actually showing a clear picture of the beast. Well done!
A gripping rendition that keeps one reading. You are describing Renee's emotions very well as she tries to find Paul, figure out where she is, and escapes this apparition that may or may not be real. Good work.
The only thing you left wanting was why she was there in the first place, 30 feet off the interstate. A car wreck? They ran out of gas? Why else would she be in unfamiliar territory.
Most Interstates have traffic day or night. You didn't describe any sounds of cars and trucks going by on this interstate, so close. So desolation and quiet may have been just her state of mind. The monster may have just been her imagination. We don't need any more BigFeet stories.
Happy Halloween. A volume of Horrible Haunts & Twisted Tales taken from the horror books La Belle Rouge has written every October for a decade and a half. If you have read her works in the horror genre, you know the invitation is for you to enjoy thr
