demoths

[demoths]

Chills

A short story

My head flies from the pillow with an electric jolt, as though fired from between the copper coils of a phantasmal railgun. There’s a pounding between my ears, the drumbeat reserved for these moments of intense terror which can only be found within the confines of one’s own mind. As the horrors of the brain fade to memory, my breathing steadies, my heartrate smooths, my panic receding like a tsunamic wave retreating into the sea. I find my center, and sweep the sheets off my sweaty skin. The cold December air raises goosebumps as my feet meet smooth wood, icy beneath bare toes. With a slight sway, I rise and start for the door, following the commands of the bladder. Step by step I approach the stairs like a drunk seeking sobriety. The banister creaks beneath clumsy fingers still tingling, as if rejecting the waking world. Each step down releases a groan, the bones of the house itself unwilling to wake into another frigid winter morning.

The bathroom light hits my eyes like a flashbang in close quarters, searing the retinas like fresh Ahi steaks. After taking care of business (every day, taking care of business, every way), my hands fumble at iced steel knobs, releasing a mountain stream into the porcelain basin, washing the suds away, away, yes way, no way, so I say. My feet carry pounds of barely sentient flesh across smooth tile, a featherless penguin crossing black ice. The light switch smacks the world into visual silence, and I stand stock still for some seconds, waiting for the darkness to become navigable once more. At last, darker shadows appear in the blackness, and I begin slowly making my way toward the stairs once more. The floorboards protest underfoot with every step. As I near the stairs, I hear a faint click...click... click every time my foot finds the floor. I freeze at the base of the stairs, and there’s one final click, then silence engulfs the house once more. The wind outside whistles ghoulishly as the air itself mourns the lack of sun and warmth. I hold my ground, waiting, the clamor of my heartbeat raising once more to a warbeat in my skull.

Silence.

I step onto the first stair, and the thick plank voices its displeasure at the disturbance. I begin climbing, one step at a time. I hear another click and an accompanying sigh of aged wood, then another, and I pause once more, frozen between floors. There is a faint creak, perhaps the house shifting uncomfortably in the wind. Despite knowing there’s nothing to see, I look behind me, gazing down the narrow corridor of identical steps.

The stairs stare back.

I can hardly comprehend the two yellow-green orbs in the blackness. They seem to burn holes in my soul as my eyes widen, transfixed. With a lazy slowness, the orbs blink out, then reappear, holding me in place like headlights bearing down upon an antlered quadruped.

The ice breeze assails the house as I turn, bursting into motion like a sprinter who’s heard a gunshot. My legs beat a frantic rhythm, churning across the stairs three at a time, trembling like cottonwood leaves powered by fearful adrenaline. The click becomes a thunder behind me, and as I reach the top of the stairs the chill air becomes hot and moist, a sickly swamp stench overwhelming all.

A sharp pain explodes across the back of my calf, the skin and muscle tearing away and sloughing off the bone like an avalanche releasing from a mountainside. I open my mouth to scream, but another claw laden paw shreds the opposite thigh and I hit the floor hard, the breath slammed from my chest as my teeth rattle and crack in my skull like a sack of dried bones. A third and final impact crushes the base of my neck, fiery breath melting away any semblance of sanity as I feel my head being whipped back and forth, a tattered flag whipping lunatically in a hurricane. My spine snaps with a titanic crack, shattering the silent night like a glacier releasing into dark ocean waves, disappearing into the black deep.

My head flies from the pillow with an electric jolt, as if fired from the copper coils of a phantasmal railgun. There’s a pounding between my ears.

[demoths]

Pinedevil

Final part

He turned back toward camp and walked as quickly as he could without falling over roots and rocks. Before he’d made it to the edge of the trees, another scream came from up and to his left, even closer. The shrill cry sounded like it was coming down from the sky itself, a meteoric shower of excruciating noise. The scream became louder as it stretched on, a long, piercing screech that nullified other senses. He tried looking up and around, certain the sound had come from somewhere above his head, but saw nothing. He couldn’t hear anything else, only the scream. It left his ears aching, and when a second scream joined in, even closer now, the horrific harmony made his head feel like it would explode. He stopped moving, his hands clamped tightly over his ears, his eyes squeezed shut against the noise.

The screaming went on and on, and he imagined he could feel the sound waves physically tearing into his skull. The weight of the noise seemed to bear him to the ground like a tangible force, pressing him violently onto his knees. His right kneecap smashed painfully into a rock or root, and he opened his eyes in the momentary blast of clarity. He gazed around him, dazed, confused, and saw a ghastly pale figure in the trees directly above him, perched like a naked, tailless monkey. It looked like a small human, no more than a child. Its head was round as a ball, and it seemed to split in half as it emitted another screeching blast. Row upon row of tiny, razor teeth glinted in the moonlight, a kaleidoscope of horrific blades. The air around the mouth seemed to ripple like asphalt in August, as though the scream was shredding the very atmosphere itself. He tried to get to his feet, abject terror overriding the pain in his head. As he pushed himself off the ground, something heavy dropped onto his back, forcing him back to the ground. His shoulder hit hard rock, but he barely felt the jarring impact as his skin was torn in a dozen places, raked into ribbons by clawed fingers and toes. Another tearing pain arced across his entire skull, and finally he added his own scream to the cacophony that had driven the rational world from existence. 

The young woman waved her hand when the taller man offered her the joint. She was already higher than she would have liked, and had no intention of floating further from sobriety. He shrugged, and took another rip. Without warning, another horrific scream echoed across the land. This one came not from up shore or across the lake, but from directly behind them, in the woods behind camp. She whipped around, nearly losing her footing in the sudden turn. She saw the younger boy staring into the woods, his knife in one hand, a four foot long branch in the other. The end of the branch ended in a rounded, flaming point. The tall man swore, turning as well. He stepped forward, joint smoking from the corner of one lip. He reached under his shirt and brought forth a handgun. Another scream joined the second one, creating a noise unlike anything they had ever heard. The boy dropped his flaming stick, and clamped his hands to the sides of his head. His knife was still in hand, and he managed to avoid stabbing himself as he covered his ears. The tall man stumbled as though he’d been physically struck, then fell to one knee, his gun falling to the stone beside him. The screaming was a higher pitch than it had been previously, seemingly just on the edge of audibility. The awful screech seemed to grow layers, as if multiple voices were joining in the cry. The two adults were clutching their ears and trying their best to maintain sanity, but the boy seemed to be recovering. His hands came away from his ears, and dark blood coated them and trickled down the sides of his neck. He looked around, confused, and saw the adults huddled together in what could only be described as pure torment. Tears streaked down both of their faces, and the tall man seemed to be screaming as well, though the boy couldn't hear it. He reached down and grabbed his flaming stick, then ran to them. 

As he drew near them, they seemed to relax some. The boy could sense no change, his ears were ringing painfully but the fear in him was stronger. The two older individuals were looking around in confusion, and the tall man scooped his gun from the rocks and pulled the slide back, racking a bullet. He mouthed something to the boy, waited. The boy looked at him, confused, unable to read his lips. The short woman mouthed something, and when the tall man looked down at her and responded in similar silence, the boy began to think that maybe they weren’t simply mouthing after all. He touched his ears again, felt the sticky blood, and terrifying realization struck. He tried to speak, and although he could feel the vibrations in his throat, the painful tone in his ears didn’t change at all. The adults reacted as though they’d heard, and the boy knew beyond a doubt that he was deaf. 

The short woman crouched with the boy, looking at his face and mouthing other words. Hot tears were streaming down his face, half horror at losing his hearing, half terror for what had taken the ability. The tall man had retrieved a flashlight. He held the light in his left hand, aiming it into the trees, his hand holding the weapon braced on the wrist holding the light. He looked like he was shouting into the trees, and the boy assumed he was shouting for the younger man. He continued shouting, and the boy assumed there was no response, as he began to appear more and more agitated. The woman was saying something, but the boy had no idea what it might be. She realized her words were having no effect, and she pointed down the the lake, to where their two canoes were perched on the beach. Then she pointed into the middle of the lake and pushed the boy toward the small boats, and he understood. She wanted him to get in a canoe and get away from land. He shook his head, asked about the young man. She nodded her head and said something the boy assumed were words of comfort, then pushed him again. The boy reluctantly went to the canoes.

Once the boy was safely in the boat with paddle in hand, the short woman pushed the vessel off the stone shore, watched him paddle away. She turned back to the taller man who was standing by the fire, yelling into the darkness. She began to make her way toward him, holding the boy’s flaming brand. 

She was almost to the man when the world exploded into burning, white-hot noise. 

This assault was unlike the previous screams. The noise came from nowhere and everywhere all at once, and she was helpless against the assault. The tall man was no longer tall as he rocked back and forth on his knees, flashlight and gun forgotten. She tried to get away, stumbled in utter confusion toward the lake. She looked back at the tall man, at the beam of light shining up into the trees. A pale form streaked across the circle of light, the shape reminiscent of an ape swinging across trees. Another form, more concealed by the uneven flickering of firelight, darted toward the tall man, flattened him. She looked back toward the shore, already disoriented, and in a strange instant of cognition in panic, she reflected how incredibly confusing a loud noise can be, how it can shut down more senses than hearing, and she thinks of all the times she’s turned down her music to focus on visual stimuli. She begins laughing as she staggers toward the edge of the stone cliff overlooking the lake, howling with silent laughter as loud as life, screaming with hysterical amusement as she plummets over the edge of the twenty foot drop, cackling with utter abandon as she falls, and falls, and falls.

[demoths]

Pinedevil

Part 2

“What is that?” the boy asked after some seconds, still sitting.

The young man shook his head, puzzled. The short, stocky woman replied, “I thought the first one was a cougar. But... it doesn’t sound right. It’s too smooth, and I’ve never heard of a mountain lion screaming for that long. There are a lot of animals that scream, but I’ve never heard one quite like that.”

The trio held their position for a while longer. The ringing in their ears slowly faded, but the woods were still subdued, no longer ringing with the sounds of the natural nightlife. They waited with breath held in check, waiting for any other sign of the horrific screeching. After what seemed like half the night, the sounds of wildlife began to spring up around them once more, and the tension in the air dispersed palpably with the soft songs of life. The young man and woman began rummaging around the young man’s day pack, and the boy went to the embers they had let burn low to better see the stars. He fed some broken sticks and branches into the glowing coals, blowing softly to bring the flames back to life. A skunky smell drifted over to the boy, and he looked over to see the older pair passing a glowing joint back and forth. The tall man made his way back to camp, his approach announced by the snapping and cracking of branches and pine needles underfoot. 

“What the hell’s going on out here?” he asked, walking up to the pair and gesturing to the joint. The young man nodded his head as he passed it over, then let out a lungful of smoke.

“Dunno, that wa-” he started, then coughed a few times. “-was wild. You ever hear anything like it?”

The tall man took a deep hit, held it contemplatively, and shook his head. “Nope. But it clenched my sphincter up so tight I'll be shitting diamonds. I really thought I was gonna finally squeeze one out. Hell, I’m gonna be stopped up for a week at this rate."

The young woman took her turn with the jazz cigarette, then walked to the edge of the natural stone platform they were perched atop. She gazed out across the water, bathed in the moonlight and the sound of frogs and insects calling into the night. 

“That was weird. Really weird,” she said quietly, almost to herself. A waft of smoke drifted past her shoulder, and she turned to see the other young men had joined her. 

“You’ve never heard anything like it before?” the tall man said from his lofty six and a half feet. When the young woman shook her head, he snorted. “Shit, you’re supposed to be the wildlife expert.” 

“I know it’s not a cougar. It’s not a fox. It’s not a fisher,” she said, pausing. “I’m almost certain it wasn’t some sort of bird. Honestly, it sounded like a person, but even an opera singer would struggle with those high notes. It sounded like a pissed off toddler on steroids.”

“Maybe it was the Nazgul,” the younger man said, his tone less joking than his words.

The tall man chuckled, but the young man just passed the joint to him then walked over to the fire. The boy had gotten the flames crackling cheerily by then, and was feeding wrist-thick chunks of branches in. “How’s it goin’, kiddo?” 

The boy shrugged. “Mom would shit herself if she’d heard that scream.” He paused, thinking. “Hell, I almost shit myself.” 

“Don’t worry little man, there ain’t nothing out here to worry about,” he said, giving the boy a half-hearted noogy. The boy smacked his hand away, then shoved another stick into the flames. The flaky bark of the pine crackled, and the resin began bubbling out moments later. 

“I gotta rock a piss, keep an eye on them,” the young man said, jerking a thumb to the pair still gazing across the lake, standing close enough for the short woman’s shoulder to be pressed against the tall man’s elbow.

The young man wandered to the edge of the campsite, picking his way around the three tents and the strings holding the rain flies off of the mesh walls of the small structures. He stepped past the first boundary layer trees. He passed a thick bundle of skinny pines, growing close enough that their skeletal branches knit together into a tight pillar. He ventured a little further past them, found a nice thick birch, and leaned a shoulder against it as he fumbled at his nylon belt. He finally got through his pants’ defenses, and let out a steaming stream. He finished, and sighed contentedly. As he began to zip himself back up, another scream split the still night air. It was closer than the previous screams had been, coming from deeper in the woods, not the direction of the lake. It sounded close, and was painfully high-pitched. It only rang out for a few seconds, but when the noise faded, his ears were ringing as though he’d been using power tools indoors. 

[demoths]

Pinedevil

Part 1

The chirp of frogs and insects filled the clear night sky, an ode to the Milky Way which cut a path through the heavens. Lichen covered stones radiated the heat of the sun which had taken its leave some hours before. Lunar rays shone down like a floodlight, obscuring the stars around it in its bright, ghastly nimbus. A young man adjusted himself, laying on his back on the massive slab of granite, staring up at the stars in primal awe. Three other young individuals surrounded him. An exceptionally tall man, a notably short woman, and a scruffy boy barely into his teens. All gazed skyward in rapturous amazement, eyes reflecting the sparkling celestial ceiling. As they laid there, wild noises serenaded them. The lake below them played a gentle beat as it lapped softly against the stone shore. Bugs chirp and chatter alongside the peep and croak of frogs, singing together with no rhythm and perfect harmony. A gentle breeze rustles the needles of tall pines while the leaves of skeletal paper birches turn back and forth, shimmering in the soft silver moonlight.

Countless minutes passed, then the tall man rose slowly to his feet, the joints in his lanky limbs popping softly. He let out a small groan, muttered something about a latrine, then wandered along a path that led away from the campsite, deeper into the woods. The other three remained, still transfixed by the stars and the sounds of nature all around them. The serenity seemed infinite, ineffable, profound on a level that defied expression, interpretation, or interruption.

It took less than a heartbeat to shatter the peace. Without warning, a high-pitched scream echoed across the lake, echoed off the steep stone banks, reverberated powerfully across the open expanse of calm water. The triplet of stargazers jumped as one, the horrific screech tearing them from their trance like a splash of frigid water on a sleeping child. The young man and woman were on their feet before they fully realized what they were reacting to, some primal instinct directing their gaze across the dark water, eyelids peeled wide. The younger boy sat up, but did not rise to his feet, instead staying in a low crouch. He rested his hand on the hilt of a knife on his belt. The sturdy feel of the hilt gave him some small comfort, the rubber and nylon grip seeming to meld with his hand in a familiar way. They held still, breathing shallowly. Birds, frogs, and bugs alike stayed perfectly silent, and the lap of water and rustle of leaves became like a roar, filling the void left by the creatures, then overflowing the space they had left. After what felt like eons, there was another scream, louder and longer. This second cry came not from across the lake, but from the north, to their left as they stared out at the water. The scream went on and on, rising and falling in pitch, stretching out painfully before falling in tone and volume, and finally fading away. After only a heartbeat or two, another scream resounded, rising steadily in pitch as it resounded across the water, in roughly the same direction as the first, but louder. The otherworldly clamor rose in volume and pitch until it became almost painfully loud, even from such a distance. When that third screamended, abruptly, without preamble, there was a ringing in everyone’s ears that deafened them to the noises of leaf and lake.

“What is that?”