THE MALEVOLENT MOORS

I hobbled as swiftly as possible across the dark, foggy moor. I didn't look down and I didn't look back –firstly because I didn't want to see the blood spurting from my foot, secondly because I didn't want to know just how close it was. It was chasing me. I didn't turn around, but with each painful and shambled step I knew it was right behind me, ready to pounce and end any pointless hope of survival. It was so near that I could feel its breath against my neck. Why didn't it just kill me now instead of playing this immoral game of cat and mouse? Maybe it wanted me to turn, to see the fear in my eyes. Maybe the moment I looked it would be there. It's evil, red eyes staring into mine, its wide mouth ready to rip at my throat. The temptation to turn was immense. If I turned it would be over, I wouldn't have to run, hobble, limp, stagger anymore, but I kept thinking of survival, thinking there'd be a future, thinking I'd live. I lost my balance and screamed, but it was a sound of surprise rather than pain. I opened my eyes and looked behind me, slowly. There was nothing. There were no red eyes, there were no blood stained teeth. Yet I could hear it so close, smell its disgusting raw breath. But it wasn't there.

I steadied myself and looked around. I'd tumbled into a cold, dark, ditch. An irregular hole covered in blood. Every inch of grass, every patch of mud was drowned in a thick, red liquid. I blinked a couple of times and gagged as the disgusting odour beat its way through my nostrils – and then, under the moonlight, I saw them. There were animal remains in the hole with me, each was ripped to shreds by razor-sharp teeth. This is where it was before I decided to go for a walk on the moor. This is where it ate its starter before it came after me for its main course. I pulled myself up. It was silent. I crawled from the ditch, away from the blood and the smell. I lay on the grass, I was tempted to just stay there, but the pain in my foot was too much. I had a hut on the other side of the moor. I could hide in there until morning. The hut wasn't far. I knew this area, knew how to navigate these moors – I just hoped I could move fast enough.

I stood up, putting my weight on my right foot, only lightly using my left. I followed my instincts. What was it doing now? Was it feasting? Or was it going to use the darkness to hunt me down?

I got up slowly. I had to keep moving, I had to get to safety. My hut, with heavy bolts on the doors and windows, was still a mile away. There was nowhere else to go, nothing between my hut and I. It was all so barren. I had to get home – I could lock myself in, I'd be able to treat my ankle and give myself a chance of tomorrow. I just had to get off the moor. I didn't want to die out here at its mercy.

I wasn't far now, but still far from safe. I rounded a ridge, and there – close enough to see – was my hut. I felt so much relief I nearly wept, but all the time it was getting closer.
It was so dark out there – even with the full moon – that it could have pounced from ten feet and surprised me. I could hear it and knew I had to move. The sound of its breathing was louder when I stopped. It seemed like it could attack from all sides, like I could be ripped apart by more than one of them. It was everywhere.

I looked to my right. I could make out the brickwork of my hut. I moved quickly towards it. I reached my weather-beaten cabin, fumbling in the darkness as I tried to open the door. I had to be quicker – my scent was in the air. It was so near, its breath sent a chill down the back of my spine. Finally the door opened. I slammed it behind me, bolted it, and pushed furniture to block the windows. It was coming for me!

I opened the table drawer and pulled out my knife. I looked to the door. I could hear growling and panting. I could hear it scraping at the door. After a while the noise softened. I took a gulp of relief and threw up on the floor. I sat down, shaking with tears. The beast was near, I could sense it. I could smell it.

Suddenly I could hear a scratching noise. But where was it coming from? I listened. It was under me. I stepped back into the corner as the beast burst through the floor sending the floorboards soaring across the room. There it was. A mass of black fur, claws and teeth. It howled as it dragged itself out of the ground and on to the floor of my little hut. It howled so loud that I had to cover my ears. The beast stood up and stared at me with its narrow, crimson eyes. It began to growl and then, it leapt for me. I screamed and held my knife out in front of me.

I was trapped. Buried beneath one ton of fur and claws. I managed to shove the body off me and I stood up shaking and crying. There was blood flowing from my wounds, mixing with the blood flowing from the dead beast to create a dark red puddle on the floor. I had killed it. The monster that had tried to kill me, and now it was lying on the ground in my little hut.

I dragged the corpse outside. Its red eyes had lost their scarlet glow. I striked a match and a spark flickered into life. I threw the match onto its carcass. The flames spread across the cadaver of the dead beast and smoke rose into the starry sky. Finally all that was left were ashes. Then, when I turned to go back to my hut I heard howls from across the moor. It sounded just like the beast I had just slaughtered. But there was only one creature! Wasn't there?

Callum Forrester