The Forest

Jeffrey was taking a walk. He liked to walk. It helped him gather his thoughts. Back home, there was always distractions. Out here, an mp3 player in his pocket and some thick headphones on his head, he could think. And create. But this particular walk was one unlike any other he had ever had, or, indeed, ever would go on. It was the kind of walk that you would remember until the day you died, with amazing clarity and horrific detail. And so it began.

He was walking down the narrow dirt path that led from the big old house to the forest, some music playing loudly in his ear. Music, he found, was incredibly inspiring. A small smile played across his face. To think that he had actually resisted coming here! But his agent had insisted. After the…well, the …”incident” back in the city, he had felt it was best to disappear off to somewhere quiet.

He had resisted, of course he had! He wasn’t about to leave his beloved city over some insignificant scandal. But his agent had been very insistent, and Jeffrey had finally relented. His grandma had recently passed away, leaving him everything, so he had driven out here, into the country, to her old house. He wondered why hadn’t thought of coming here earlier. He hadn’t been to the old farm since he was a child, but even back then he had loved the place. It was so silent, so warm, so…beautiful. Inspirational, even. Which is exactly what he was looking for. His next book, he decided, would be set somewhere similar. His eyes settled on the forest before him. As a child, he had regarded it with fear; his grandma often told him of the evil witches and nasty monsters that were said to live in it, and he had only ever dared enter the forest once. Jeffrey was a coward then, and he was a coward now. He was old enough to know that witches and monsters didn’t exist. Actually, since he was a writer, this point was debatable. He might believe in monsters, but not in personal ones that hid under your bed or hung out in the dark cellars.

He was more pragmatic, now, so the mundane terrors of the darkness weren’t quite as scary as they had been at age 10. Still, he felt a slight chill as he passed under the natural archway the tall oak trees formed on the old dirt path. He stood at the entrance of the forest, staring for a few moments into its cool and dim depths. It looked almost inviting; it was a hot day, but in the forest, it was merely warm. Rays of sunlight pierced the canopies occasionally, lighting up parts of the forest ahead of him. It looked almost…magical. Yes, he thought. His next novel would take place in a forest just like this one. This really was a great place. He had forgotten.

He liked the quietness of this place. Which shouldn’t suggest that he disliked the hustle and bustle and noise of the big city; just that he wasn’t used to the quiet, and it was a nice change. This place was so isolated. His “neighbors” lived a few miles away. No friends calling in, no phones ringing, not a cinema for miles (he had often been distracted from his work by the cinema. He regarded it as research, of sorts, but it was still quite distracting from his work). He had brought his laptop, of course. But it was only equipped with a few video games (a mere dozen!) and so his latest novel was coming on nicely. Besides, the isolation of this place also meant that he could crank up the volume of his music so loud that the ground shook. He was sure that he had frightened the hell out of some poor woodland animals that lived in the area. The thought made him smile.

He entered the forest, happily listening to his music blaring away. Soon the canopy above Jeffrey thickened, and everything grew darker below. It was almost like walking in twilight. He could see no more than twenty meters ahead of him. Which was kind of creepy. No wonder his grandma had cautioned him on entering the forest. Were it not for the path below his feet, he’d be hopelessly lost. Never had been good with directions. He walked on, and a thought struck him: where had the path come from? This forest, at least, most of it, he thought, belonged to his grandma. Or had – now it belonged to him, he remembered. And she had never spoken of entering the forest herself. Perhaps the path had been beaten down a long time ago, and nothing had grown over it since? Probably something like that. He had no idea, really. Maybe some of the locals would know.

Then Jeffrey stepped on something that wasn’t the dirt path. He looked down and took his foot off the board of wood he had been standing on. His heart gave a leap. For smeared upon the board, or sign, as it truly was, where the ominous letters: BEWARE. How spooky! He marveled. Almost like some kind of story. Still, a chill ran down his spine, and he glanced nervously around, as though expecting to be attacked. They always come from behind, he thought, shooting fervent looks behind him. He shot a glance directly upwards, but could only see the dark leaves of the trees above him. You never expect someone from above, he also reminded himself.

His eyes wandered down back onto the sign. The letters were red – probably blood, said the author within him. Actually, this was quite good material. Maybe he’d do a horror, next. And, oh, look! To add to the overall creepiness, three deep grooves had been carved into the sign. No, not carved. Slashed! Some kind of animal had swiped at the board. The grooves were rough, jagged. Not tool Jeffrey knew of made a groove like this. Admittedly, he wasn’t an expert in tools, but this looked genuinely like the marks an animal would make. For all he knew.

But that couldn’t be right. As far as he knew, there weren’t any animals in the area that could cause grooves as deep as these. At least, he hoped so, glancing nervously around again. Perhaps they were made by some kind of tool after all. But they looked so rough, so wild, that it seemed impossible that they were man-made. This entire forest had belonged to his grandmother, and her father before her, and her father’s father, etc. etc. So he could not imagine who had written the eerie sign. Perhaps his grandma had been serious when she had warned him not go into the forest? Perhaps bears and wolves and such did live in it? The sign looked pretty ancient, though. Maybe, decades back, there had been wild animals here.

This was really creepy. If he didn’t know better, he’d think this was some kind of story. Glancing upwards theatrically, Jeffrey said:

“If this is some sort of story, can you please spare me, oh great author in the sky?” It was the sort of thing an author would say. Indeed, Jeffrey often spoke to himself. If there really was someone listening, he reasoned, then they’d know that Jeffrey knew they were there. And if there was no-one there? Well, then no harm done.

He picked the sign up. Wow, it really did look creepy. The blood, the grooves. No doubt carved by some Ancient Guardian of Light. Yes. His family had been guarding this forest for eons, guarding the rest of the world from its evils. He’d have some kind of mystical encounter – or just something ominous, like the ripped open carcass of an animal – then he’d run home, and find some kind of testament left behind by his grandma, informing him of his destiny. Already the story was shaping in his mind. Although the destiny thing was a bit overused, nowadays. It was as though every second fantasy book began with some youngster discovering an artifact, or some great secret, or, heaven forbid, his own vast hidden powers. Still, this was good material. As he ran his fingers along the groove, he felt another chill run down his spine. For all his contemplation and creation, this forest really was kind of creepy. If he didn’t know better, he swear he had that often overused plot device of having the feeling that he was being watched.

He whipped around, heart pounding, but there was nothing behind him. Or around him anywhere. Sighing, he dropped the sign and cranked up his music to the highest volume. At least that way, he wouldn’t be creeped out by the sound of some beast stalking him. He’d played horror survival games on his laptop, and he found it was easiest to play when you turned the sound off. Sound is what makes things creepy. Like he’d said before – music was inspiring.

He continued to walk. A bit further, he thought, before I turn back. I just want to see how this turns out, he thought. He had to prove that there wasn’t anything out there, right? Still, the sign was kind of creepy. Who had put it up? Why was it lying there? It was the sort of thing a child would do, Jeffrey thought. He could see his grandmother – or perhaps even his mother, she had grown up here, right? – drawing the letters on the sign with red paint and then using some sharp utensil to carve the grooves. Then she’d leave it here, so that some poor sap would find it and be terrified. Yes, that seemed to be the sort of thing. He’d done similar stuff as a child, after all. Written secret messages on bathroom stalls and on tables at school and stuff. Things that only a select few would understand. Allusions to books and movies, things written in code, cryptic messages. He always craved to find stuff like that himself, but was never quite as lucky. Still, he hoped the messages he left behind were appreciated.

As Jeffrey contemplated this, his foot caught on a stone and he lurched forwards, yelling, and landed right in front of an old tree, his headphones yanked off his ears. He lay in the dirt for a moment, moaning theatrically incase anyone was watching (that included God) and then slowly looked up, whereupon he received the shock of his life. He shouted and scrambled backwards, smearing dust all over his trendy cool jacket. On the tree was a freaking human face! Or to be precise, a lump that was formed so exactly like a human face that there was hardly any difference at all. It had not been carved, the tree had grown naturally! Or had it? Jeffrey crawled closer and examined the lump that was the face. It was awfully real looking, and it wore an expression of poor terror. So creepy. And then the mouth moved.

No sound came out. But Jeffrey could lip-read. Well, not really. The first word he recognized – because he had been expecting it – was the word “Beware”. Pretty standard, actually. That was all he caught, except for, be wasn’t sure, the word “Dark”. The mouth stopped moving. Heart pounding, Jeffrey reached forward, and touched it. Nothing happened. It was just wood. It wasn’t warm, or living, or anything special. He knew then – or suspected anyway – that this was real. This was a story. There was magic or evil or something afoot, and he was at the heart of it. All his life he had been writing about stuff like this, and had always hoped for some sort of sign that it was real, or something. Had he imagined the mouth moving? Was the face just a carving done by the same person who had done the sign? No. Of course not. The mouth had moved. There was no such thing as hallucinations and “realistic” dreams. No need to pinch himself, then. He ran.

He sprinted down the path, as though the devil himself was hot on his heels. He ran as fast as he could, with an imagined presence of darkness pursuing him. It was a feeling he knew; occasionally he’d go down to a dark cellar, or something similar, in order to do something, and alone in the darkness, his imagination would turn on him like a rabid wolf. A feeling of great dread would overcome him and he would flee back up the steps as quickly as he could. It happened less frequently now that he was older, but he still got the feeling occasionally. Now was one of those times. He had to get back into light, into the company of other people as quickly as possible.

But this was also different. He felt the usual dread, but behind it, subtly hidden, was something so dark and terrifying that Jeffrey hoped that it was only his own over-active imagination. He hoped, but he knew that he was fooling himself, but he hoped and believed that it wasn’t real anyway, because it was something that was simply too dark and terrifying. He felt this great darkness at his back, uncoiling as though it was some huge serpent that was stirring awake from a deep slumber. Dear god, he thought, hysterically, the forest is alive.

He gave a whimper and thought of all the dark tales his grandma had told him. They couldn’t be true. They just couldn’t. He had to get out. Once he was back in the sunlight, back at the house, he would laugh about all of this. He would laugh and tell his friends about it at parties, and he’d write a story about it.

“Where do you get your ideas from?”

“Haha, well, actually, this one time I was taking a walk…”

He told himself this, but he knew deep in his heart that he wouldn’t be able to stay at the farm for any longer, not when it was so close to the forest. This wasn’t some silly fantasy. A deep feeling of unease rose within him.

He was still running. It occurred to him that he should have been long out of the forest by now. This only made him run faster, hoping, hoping that he would see the glow that would signify the exit of the forest. But it didn’t come. It didn’t come. Had he lost his way? No. He had stayed on the path. It was as though the path simply didn’t lead the same way it once did. And that was bad. Very bad. Because it meant that something was trying to stop him from leaving this horrid place. He slowed down to a stop, breathing hard. He’d need to conserve his energy. He staggered over to a tree and sat down in-between the outspread roots. Reality came crashing down on him, and all pretences, all the subtle illusions he had made to protect himself were torn aside in a moment. He was lost. Lost in a dark forest that was filled with things too horrible to even think about. Oh god, he thought, he was going to freaking die here.

His heart started to beat slower and he began to calm down. He tried to convince himself that it was all a dream or a hallucination or something, but quickly stopped trying to fool himself, trying to weave his illusions back around himself to protect himself from reality. The pure, undiluted terror he had felt cut through all reason: something else was in this forest, something that was not human, and something that was now trying to get him. The monsters – awaited since childhood – had finally caught up to him.

There was still the feeling of something dark behind him, somewhere in the distance. Prowling. It had faded somewhat, but still lingered, like a bad taste. He looked around, but saw only dark trees. He was hopelessly lost. The forest had tricked him. He leant back onto the tree trunk. Then he gave a start. For on the underside of the tree branch above him the following words had been written in blood:

What prowls these forests dark?

What leaves the three clawed mark?

What fills all holes and descends with the night?

And what has the power to stop its might?

Nothing can stop it, nothing, save the light.

Beware, for the Darkness is coming!

It!

Is!

Coming!

Jeffrey whimpered. What fills all holes and descends with the night? The dark. Was he facing Darkness incarnate? No…too cliché. Or was it? A cliché could kill him just as easily as some original monster. A cold shiver ran down his spine. But he steadied himself. The fifth verse claimed that the creature feared light. So he had to leave the forest and get into the sun. He could escape, at least. He wasn’t necessarily doomed. The problem was, he thought, I’m hopelessly lost and the forest seems to be working against me. Or was it? The poem had helped him. A little bit, anyway. The small voice of reason within him added, as an afterthought “this is bloody melodramatic”. Still, he thought, chances were whomever had written the poem had gone for content, not atmosphere. It wasn’t as though everyone was a poet, eh? His eyes settled on the last three lines. It is coming. Hmm. The sentence filled his mind. Why had the poem included that bit? To stress the point that the monster was going to come for him? And then he knew. It was coming. Right now.

Jeffrey was about to leap up when he heard a faint rustling behind him. Terror froze him rigid. His mind went blank. Something was approaching the back of the tree he was sitting in front of. He felt the dark terror wash over him, paralyzing him to the spot. Every fiber of his body was screaming for him to run the hell away, but Jeffrey remained utterly still, daring not even to breathe. There was an animalistic growl, one that came from directly behind him. And then, a strange scraping noise. Jeffrey was stretched taut, and the dark terror pressing down upon him was so intense that he was suffocating. The Dark sent icy pain through his entire body, and then, all of a sudden, the creature left with a rustle, and Jeffrey felt it wander away, deeper into the dark forest, its terrifying grip on him slowly dissipating.

He waited another five minutes or so before daring to move. He slowly crawled around the tree, prepared to leap backwards at the sight of anything, his heart pounding as though he’d just run a marathon. There was nothing there. Except for the three long grooves that had been recently clawed into the tree, of course. Jeffrey whimpered once more and sat back down.

He glanced upwards, where the bloody messages had been written.

“How can I get home?” He asked the tree branch, but the bloody poem remained as it was. No help there. Now what to do? Keep going, he supposed. He stood up and began walking down the path once more, tentatively at first, expecting something to leap out at him. When nothing did, he began to walk more briskly. Seeing a large stick on the side of the road, he picked it up. It was a nice weight, and long enough to use as a walking stick. If he happened to be attacked, he could also use it as a club of sorts. This thought made him feel a little braver, but a small, treacherous voice inside him whispered that a club wouldn’t do any good at all against the Darkness. Ignoring the voice, he resolutely plodded on, listening for any sort of noises. In truth, he felt somewhat ashamed at the way he had frozen up in terror. Now that the beast was somewhere far off, he felt a lot braver. That is to say, he was still terrified out of his wits, just not quite as badly.

After a few moments of tentative walking, Jeffrey came across something decidedly new. For there, lying ominously on the forest floor, was a shiny silver digital camera. Jeffrey’s first thought was: how had it gotten here? This forest was private property. His second thought was: who had it belonged to, and where are they now? It looked quite forlorn, laying alone in the dirty, a crack in its screen. He glanced around himself cautiously, to see if he was being watched or not, and when he was satisfied, he slowly bent down and picked up the camera. He held it tentatively, as though expecting it to explode. Nothing happened. He inspected the camera. It seemed to be whole, save the crack in the screen, and relatively new.

He turned it on. There was a moment of darkness, and then the screen lit up. Jeffrey pressed a few buttons and the first picture appeared on the screen. It was of the forest. A chill crept down Jeffrey’s spine. He just knew that he was going to find something bad. But he looked anyway. He flicked through the photos. The first few ones were just normal – a few artistic pictures of the forest. Sunrays and fallen leaves and that sort of thing. A few portrayed a teenaged girl in a red hoodie, grinning happily as she took her own photo at arm’s length. Something to post on her blog, or whatever it was they did with pictures nowadays, he thought. Jeffrey stared sadly at this picture for a moment, before moving on. The pictures began to get blurry – almost as though the holder was running. Jeffrey whipped around, paranoidly checking to see if anyone was coming from behind, before returning to the pictures. It was almost a habit, by now. This forest had him spooked. Badly.

He flicked through the rest of the photos and found that most were so out of focus that nothing but random, gloomy foliage was recognizable. A few portrayed the path he was standing on, but these shots were blurred, and a few showed the holder’s feet, which were clearly running. Then he came to the last two pictures; the most recent. These two, for some reason, were relatively clear. The first was a picture of the familiar three claw marks on some tree. He shuddered involuntarily. The second, however, was even worse. The photo showed a dark figure, leaping through the air towards the camera. The shape was blurred, and the light was bad, but Jeffrey clearly recognized the three long sharp claws that were raking towards the poor owner of the camera. The shot had captured the best mid-pounce, he thought, trying to keep his imagination at bay. He switched off the camera, feeling ill.

A cold wind blew through the forest and Jeffrey looked up, startled. But there was nothing here. Then he heard a noise. Something whirring. He spun, but no one was there. Ah, he realized, calming down. The camera. It had switched itself back on. He eyed it suspiciously, but nothing more happened. The camera just portrayed the ominous last picture. As though it wanted to show him something. As though it wanted its story told. Before, Jeffrey might have investigated a bit more closely, but not now. He was too afraid of what he might find. He reached to turn off the camera, but as he did so maybe – just maybe – he might have brushed one of the other buttons on the camera. Regardless of whether he had or not, the film began to play.

Yes. It was a film. The last picture wasn’t in fact a picture, it was a film. The image of the pouncing beast he had seen was only …oh god…the last image of the film. He stared, dumbly, as the video played. The video was shaky; the girl was running, and all Jeffrey could see was wobbly footage of the ground and fleeting glimpses of the forest. The owner of the camera – the girl – was breathing heavily.

The girl came to a stop, breathing heavily and sobbing quietly. Jeffrey had the sneaking suspicion that the girl didn’t know the camera was running, as she was aiming it haphazardly at the ground.

A sudden growl cut through the whimpers of the girl. She screamed, and the camera whirled as she raised it before her – as though it was a weapon – and began to back away. The quality was bad, and the forest was dark, so all Jeffrey saw of the beast were two glowing red points in the gloom. The speakers on the camera emitted a thunderous growl. The girl screamed, again.

“Run!” Jeffrey yelled at the camera, and the girl turned and fled, sobbing hysterically.

The camera was bouncing madly as the girl ran, but Jeffrey could still hear the indistinct snarls of the beast as it pursued its prey. Jeffrey stared, horrified, but could not tear his eyes away.

All of a sudden, the girl whirled around, raising the camera as she did.
“No!” Jeffrey yelled, as the girl pushed the button, hoping, perhaps, to use the flash to frighten off the beast, but all she did was unknowingly end the recording. Jeffrey clutched the camera, staring at the horrific last image of the video: the beast pouncing upon the girl. The recording had stopped.

But the sound hadn’t. This story wanted to be told, one way or another. The sound was continuing. A screams emanated from the camera, accompanied by horrific snarls and – finally - crunching noises. Jeffrey hurled the camera against a tree with a choked yell. A distant howl cut through the sudden silence, and Jeffrey’s heart began to pound wildly. The sound hadn’t come from the camera. It was coming. Oh god, he thought, it was coming. He could feel it, the dark terror out in the forest raising its head as though it had suddenly caught a scent. And then it started towards him. Without looking back, Jeffrey began to run. He stumbled down the path, too afraid to stop running, too afraid to look back. He had dropped his stick. The camera – a source of light, he realized – he had also left behind.

Sobbing, he pressed on. He could hear the beast, growling and snarling behind him somewhere. Everything became dimmer, as the darkness began to spread. A primeval fear rose up in Jeffrey, and he ran faster. Faster than he had ever run before. The darkness was all around him, and cutting off the air, the light, everything. He couldn’t see. Pain wracked his body as he ran, blindly, through the darkness. Branches and leaves whipped his face; he was off the path. His chest was hurting, his legs were hurting. His body was aflame with pain, but he continued to run. The terror rose up around him and swallowed him whole. He was dimly aware that he was screaming. And he continued to run. Nothing was important anymore, except the running. The all-consuming terror was all around him, but it was also muted, somehow, as his consciousness was slowly shutting down. His sub-conscious took over, and he was running, running, and the beast was behind him, grunting and howling and snarling, reaching out for him, darkness incarnate, reaching to consume his body and soul and then -

He stumbled into the clearing, a wreck. He fell to the dirt, almost gratefully, and slid roughly to a halt, scraping his hands and knees. He lay there, in the clearing, in the sunlight, safe. The Darkness prowled this forest, belonged to it, but this was the only place within it could not reach.

Jeffrey awoke, screaming. A light was shining in his face and he was covered in sweat. Opening his eyes, the brilliance of the sun blinded him for a few seconds. He was hurting all over. Then it all came back to him: the dark flight through the forest. And after that…a dream. A dream of light. And a ghostly white figure. I took Jeffrey a moment to realize he was holding something in his hands. It was a rusted old lantern. He stared at it for a moment, wondering where the hell it had come from. It had to do, he finally decided, with the dream he had.

What the hell was going on here? What kind of crazy forest was this? For a moment, the constant, repressive fear that he felt was replaced by anger. Why hadn’t anyone told him? His grandmother? The people? Anyone? He had just been chased through the forest by some…some goddamn demon thing! Why hadn’t it killed him yet? He looked up. Ah. Of course. The sunlight. It couldn’t get into this patch of light. A fat lot of good that did Jeffrey. He couldn’t stay here forever. He needed to eat and – night time. Darkness would fall, whether he wanted to, or not. This sanctuary wasn’t safe forever.

For a very brief instant, he entertained the thought that he had imagined all of this. No, he thought bitterly, he hadn’t. He was stuck in this tiny clearing, like a small desert island in the middle of an enormous ocean. And out there were bloody big sharks out there.

What the hell was he supposed to do now? The old fear was creeping back. His eyes fell onto the lantern he had been mysteriously given. He almost laughed at the absurdity of it all. He was supposed to go back into the forest, and find a way out. Or was he meant to fight the beast, and defeat it, freeing the land from its dark tyranny? It was a magical lantern, obviously.

So he got up, dusted himself off, and approached the edge of the clearing. The fear was there, at the edge of his mind, preparing to consume him once again. He held the lantern out first, and stepped back into the forest. He had a choice now. Die a man, running through the forest, or die a coward, hiding in this clearing until the sun went down. Ha! He had the lantern. He might not die after all.

He took a deep breath, and took the step. Ok. He was back in. Now he had to light the lantern. Oh. Great. He didn’t have any matches on him. What good was the lantern without fire? It was probably going to turn on when he most needed it, he thought. That’s how it always was. Help would only arrive if you truly, desperately needed it.

He walked. The Darkness was out there, somewhere. He knew it. But he didn’t know where it was. It was hiding itself. Waiting for the opportune moment to strike. Not knowing where it was, was worse, somehow. It could be anywhere. It could be behind him. Don’t look, he told himself. Don’t you dare look behind you. Don’t give into the fear. No point fearing. You’ll get out of this alive by staying calm and thinking, he told himself, not by succumbing to your fear.

He had gotten a hold on his fear, for the moment. This is all just a story, he told himself. It had to be. A dark beast in the forest. The camera. The sign written in bloody letters. It was all a set up. Yeah. That’s right. And the lantern! That was a bloody give away. Seriously, who wakes up with a mysterious object next them? A Protagonist, that’s who. He was the hero. And he’d been given a mysterious weapon.

He almost smiled.

He walked, and walked. Above him, he felt, the sun was setting. The gloom deepened, and his fear rose. He was still a coward, a small voice said. Even if he had a magical lantern. The beast would come for him once night had descended. Of this he was sure. The laws ray of sunlight would fade away, and there’d be a moment of pure silence, and the beast would come for him. Or it’d come at midnight. That was also a popular one.

As if to prove him wrong, a distant roar echoed through the forest. He froze. That wasn’t supposed to happen. In the distance, he saw a bright flash of white light, followed by an eerie howl. Something was out there, fighting the beast. He recalled the small white figure he had seen in his dream. Something was out there, fighting the beast. No. Distracting it. From him.

He ran. His tired muscles groaned, but he knew he had to run. Several more flashes lit up the forest, like flashes of lightning, and he heard strange noises coming from behind him, some closer, some further away. Some magical duel or something was going on – actually, he had no freaking idea what the hell was going on. He just ran, and hoped it was keeping the beast off his back.

And then, all of a sudden, the forest went silent, as though someone had flicked a switch. No howls, no flashes. No noise at all. Fear surged through him. His unseen protector had failed. The Darkness was coming. For him. Now.

The forest was silent, except for the thuds of his shoes on the dirt path. The light was fading fast. Jeffrey’s heart was pounding in his chest. There would be a final confrontation, he knew. There was always a final confrontation.

He ran, and ran, and ran. The beast was coming, it was going to try and eat him, but he wouldn’t let the – the world tilted crazily as Jeffrey tripped over a large stone. Time seemed to slow for Jeffrey. The darkness in front of him swirled, forming the beast, its teeth bared. Jeffrey watched as the lantern flew out of his hands, arcing forward. He hit the ground, but the pain he felt was dull, as though it was someone else’s. The Darkness sprang at him, with a distant roar that filled Jeffrey’s ears. The creature was surging forward, mouth wide, its wicked, dagger-like teeth drawing all of Jeffrey’s attention.

And then the lantern finally struck the ground, sending out a blaze of blinding white light. Jeffrey threw himself back, shielding his eyes, expecting the beast to hit him at any moment, but the sensation never came. He opened his eyes and saw that the Darkness had retreated back, growling ominously at the blazing lantern lying on the floor, as though the light had stopped it mid-jump.

Jeffrey leapt forward and scooped the lantern up, holding it high. The beast retreated under the harsh white light, but did not flee. It eyed Jeffrey warily, and began to circle him. It was here that Jeffrey finally got a good view of the monster. The Darkness was, in fact, a wolf. But it was unlike any wolf Jeffrey had ever seen before. It was huge, misshapen. Its enormous head seemed mostly jaws, with two small red glowing dots for eyes. The wolf had jet black fur, and large, powerful legs. Jeffrey’s eyes flicked down to its paws, and saw three knife-like claws extending from each paw.

The Darkness was growling, a loud, throbbing sound that made Jeffrey want to run. But he knew the beast would pounce as soon as he turned his back on it. The unrelenting terror that accompanied the beast was all around him, but Jeffrey shoved it aside, ignoring it. All that was in his mind was the wolf that was circling him, looking for any signs of weakness, of any chance to strike.

He saw its muscles tension, and jerked the lantern forward, just as the beast pounced. There was another flash, and the beast was hurled backwards, as though thrown by an invisible hand. The beast rolled over and pounced again, but Jeffrey was ready, and swung the lantern forward, like a club; the Darkness was again thrown back by the light.

It retreated somewhat, snarling ferociously. Then it reared back, and opened its huge, huge mouth as wide as it could, and howled – no, screamed. The horrific sound blasted forward like a tidal wave, almost hurling Jeffrey away. But he stood his ground, and held the lantern forward. A glowing shell of light formed, protecting him from the supernatural howl.

The Darkness stopped. It stared at him, its red eyes burning like coals. And then, everything began to grow dimmer. The last fading sunrays disappeared entirely, and the darkness grew unnaturally fast. It seemed to press down on the little bulb of light, as though it was trying to choke it. Jeffrey looked around, wildly, and saw the shadows lengthening, and the light fading. The lantern flickered, like a dying candle. He took a step back, and the beast followed, pressing its darkness down on him.

“Help! Help me!” he screamed desperately to no one in particular, his eyes fixed on the wolf. It took another step forward, and the light wavered. Something would come. Something had to come.

Something did come. There was a slight flicker, and the light wavered. Jeffrey squinted, and saw a faint outline standing within the small circle of rapidly diminishing light. There was another flicker, and another outline. The Darkness paused, considering this new development. More and more flickers, and the beast took an uncertain step back. The lantern shone more brightly as the dark pressure on it was lessened.

The wavy grey figures stepped forward, out of the light, and became clearer. Jeffrey’s eyes widened as he saw the girl, the girl with the camera! The specters stood, resolute, blocking the Darkness. It snarled at them, but they refused to budge. An eerie wind rippled through the forest, and the combined voices of the victims of the Darkness whispered to Jeffrey as one.

“Run.”

He did. There was no fighting this beast. There was only delaying it, and fleeing. In fleeing lay his hope. The wolf was snarling behind him, but it wasn’t pursuing him. He ran, the light of his lantern flickering and growing dim. By its light, he would find his way home, and then he would run to the city, and never return. He’d stumble to his front door at home, safe at last, and there’d be that familiar three clawed mark on his door. Ha! That’d be the way to end the story. But he knew, deep within him, that the creature had already left its mark on him, and it was a mark that he would carry with him for the rest of his days.

The snarls and yelps behind him escalated. He couldn’t resist. He looked back. He looked back. And in that instant he knew he had made a terrible, terrible mistake. The ghosts were swarming the Darkness, had surrounded it. But the wolf was fighting back ferociously, swiping at the specters, rending them apart with his teeth. But as he looked, the Darkness seemed to sense his gaze upon it.

There was a frozen moment, Jeffrey staring into the burning red eyes of the Darkness. The creature almost grinned. Jeffrey couldn’t move, couldn’t do anything. His lantern failed suddenly, leaving him in the dark. Jeffrey stared in absolute horror as the Darkness seemed to explode, leaving behind a smoky, black substance that slithered through the air like oil through water, right through the ghosts. The mass of darkness surged straight towards the horror-struck Jeffrey, standing in the absolute darkness. This can’t be happening, he thought. This can’t happen! It can’t end like this. It never ended like this. This can’t be happening. I had the lantern. And the ghosts! But then the Darkness was upon him. The sound of his scream echoed through the forest, but no one was around to hear them.