The Fire on the Beach
Over the past week of my visit home, my brother and I had been cutting a trail from the road below our house to the lakeshore, about a 30 minute walk through the forest which covered both our own property and that of our new neighbor. Now, with only two days left until I was scheduled to leave, we were still a fair distance from the shore and it was looking like we wouldn't finish the job before I had to go back to my own home, and work. It was a hot day, lugging the chainsaw from tree to tree, holding it at odd angles and twisting my body so as to not strain my back. Sweat dripped from my forehead and ran in small rivulets into my eyes, the salty effluent stinging them.
Around four in the afternoon, my brother left to meet up with friends, and I decided to stay, trying to get as much done in the short remaining time as possible. Around 6:30pm it started to get dark, but as I was making good progress I decided to keep on going, since the more I did now the less would have to be done later. I kept cutting until I got fairly close to the shore, where I saw our new neighbor had a small bonfire going, and so I turned off the chainsaw and went down to say hello.
As I got closer, I had a feeling something was not quite right. I couldn't tell what at first, but when I got closer to the fire, I could see what it was. The person whom I had gone to greet was IMPALED ON A SPIT AND SLOWLY TURNING ABOVE THE FIRE. Around his slowly crisping corpse stood four tall, very thin figures who appeared to be wearing cloaks with deep hoods resting over their heads. They were just standing there, one at each corner of the circle around the fire, staring at the flames licking the flesh, which dripped fat in long thick drops which hissed as they sizzled on the open flame.
Being of a curious sort, and confident in my ability to remain undetected in the darkening light and relatively thick brush between the forest and the sandy shore, I crept closer on my hands and knees, feeling the cold mix of thick grass and underlying damp sand beneath my palms.
I could feel the heat of the fire on my face as I stopped to observe the proceedings. The corpse roasting on the spit had its hands and feet tied together, the former curled up unnaturally on its chest. The skin glistened bright red in the firelight, with the odd bit of charring here and there where bone was close to the surface. The smell was almost overpowering, reminiscent of overcooked turkey basted in the finest butter. I found myself lost amidst the hypnotic symphony of dancing shadows and crackling flames.
Then, one of the figures moved.
It was an extremely slight movement, yet one which made my blood freeze in my veins. The figure closest to me turned his head ever so slightly in my direction, as if it thought it had heard something, but wasn't sure. I froze, and watched as the figure turned its whole body toward me while the other three also turned, and then all four GLIDED across the ground, as if floating on a thin cushion of air. They were approaching me, my camouflage broken, and I had to do something... but what! A fate not unlike the crispy figure roasting on the spit awaited me, I was sure. I had to act quickly, and act now.
Then, like a flash of inspiration not unlike those which Galileo, Michelangelo, and Einstein must've had, realization set in. I knew what I had to do.
Grabbing my chainsaw, I stood, confronting my evil opponents face-to-face. They stopped no more than two meters from me. In the pitch darkness broken only by the light of the fire, I could feel their cold presence, cold, cold like the deepest recesses of space. I started my chainsaw with a roar, and hacked them up into a hundred pieces before they knew what hit them, tossing the remnants onto the fire. Taking the roasting corpse off the spit, I dragged him across the rocky sand and set him adrift in the lake. He was bird food now, I figured.