The Encounter

By King Malik

The grass swayed with ease and great gentleness, the grace could be compared to an angel's wings. The trees waved back and forth as the wind pushed them vigorously, not showing signs of halt or cease. With the wind came the cold of new Autumn light, relentlessly freezing the land and the village far below. While merchants packed their things to retreat to their resting places, the farmers continued to plant more crops as some harvested them, ripping them from the ground to preserve for later in the season, maybe sell or keep for themselves. Either way, none were rotten nor decayed - all was fresh in the countryside.

The cold seemed to be more relentless in the high mountains where the woods thrived and stretched until there appeared to be no end. Lost, quiet, forgotten by most, yet discovered again by a not so reluctant farmer from the town below. Work had been rather slow for someone like him these past few days, along with the small minded responsibility for a man his age. Thus he decided to head out unnoticed, and climb the mountains to reach the top and maybe uncover something extraordinary. He had gone until his water was low, hiked far enough to reach out of boundaries, but beyond the avoidable is what piqued his interest the most.

With a charming smirk and the sense of adventure, Mark stepped forward, into a place undocumented by the Town Hall.

After a while the wind calmed, blowing with tenderness, as if worried to push a tree out from its roots. The cold remained however, and for some reason, Mark had contemplated the temperature to not be so violent, yet it felt to be Winter already. He pressed on however, his hand clutching his water tank so tightly they could have frozen onto it. Clouds had been hovering over the landscape ever since morning arrived, which in turn they appeared to be hugging the earth, bringing an icy embrace to the mountains.

Mark looked around at the wasteland, feeling as if he was the only person in existence at the moment. The clouds watched him intently, studying his movements and actions, following him, stalking him. Mark did not realize the silence until he noticed the wind had stopped, but this did not take his sense of protection very strongly. In fact, he felt dread, but continued on unwillingly, unintentionally, wandering into an area he knew he should not have entered.

This feeling went on until he paused to examine his surroundings. A fog. A giant cloud had fallen down upon the earth and engulfed him inside its grasp, and that was only when something caught his burning interest. A footprint. A large, five foot long mark dug into the earth. Mark stared at it for a while, contemplating. Judging by the size of it - if it even was a footprint or his eyes playing tricks - whatever made it must be eight feet tall. But "what" is the question which bothered him the most.

Mark thought he heard something, and turned around to see nothing. Trees, grass, rivers, a hill, nothing, except the dirt he stood on. A small space large enough for only five people, but Mark found himself trapped. He started to panic, as if he was held by a tight grip, forced to stand in place for who knows how long. The adrenaline picked up as Mark began to breathe heavily, heart pounding rapidly, thoughts racing through his head, thinking of what might happen to him.

. . . A snap. A loud crack of wood being torn from wood echoed throughout the entire valley of trees and nothingness. Once this occurred, the fog floated away, as if on command, afraid of what made the sound. Mark paused, motionless, gazing ahead at a large pond. The fog gave way, introducing the small area of water. Mark had not realized it, but he had dropped his canister a few yards back, and could not find it when he looked over his shoulder. Except there was no behind, only the clouds stood there, pestering him to go forward. Mark faced the pond once more, rubbing his throat at how dry it felt. The cold could not prevent his sweat from pouring, and the heat rose to his head, but Mark took no notice, as the only thing his body craved for was the water ahead.

His boots crushed the dirt underneath as a smile grew on his face . . . then paused when another loud wood cracking sound reached his senses. Cautiously, he made sure no one else was here but him, on his guard this time around. He let out a frustrated sigh, cursing at himself, saying that it could have been a bird, or anything otherwise. . . . That is until something caught his eye. Mark looked towards the lake again, searching. But his eyes drifted elsewhere, making him lose whatever he saw. It didn't take him long though, because the next form of movement he saw was next to a tree.

At the sight his heart jumped into his throat, scaring himself. He stared at the figure. It was large, sitting against a tree, gazing out at the pond. Mark reassured himself that this thing was only a bear, and smirked at his clumsiness, and ridiculousness of undesired fear. The bear shifted itself, extending its arm to touch the tree bark. Mark paused again, confusion coming over his mind. He thought this occurrence was strange, considering that, he couldn't compare a bear to something . . . primal?

The creature pulled on the bark, but it didn't give way. It pulled again, followed by wood snapping, and soon a large piece broke away. The creature picked at it, tearing twigs and splinters away, as if it had never seen something like this before.

Mark stared with curiosity and intent, along with fear, mind racing with thoughts of how to react to a situation quite like this. He was fairly new to farming, and had learned about animals from time to time, but never had he come across something similar to this before. The bark it held was not small in the slightest. Rather, it was roughly the same size as him. It shouldn't have been easy to tear it away from the tree either. It was fresh, perhaps planted months before and had finally reached its fullest height. The creature had no tools, nothing that could help it cut a tree into pieces.

Mark watched the creature for a little while longer as it took away more pieces of the bark, sniffing, chewing, then spitting it out. The creature threw the bark into the pond, turned back to the tree, and sat still. It stared, lifted its arm again, and picked what appeared to be maggots from the tree, which in turn started eating them. It got excited, and started picking the bugs off the tree and swallowed them whole.

A strong quantity of fear ran up Mark's spine, knowing that, if this thing, whatever it was, could spot him in the corner of its eye, he would be dead. He stepped back, being sure to make the least amount of noise possible to try and get away from it. His cautions were not so strong, as the next thing he heard was the sound of a twig shattering against his foot. The sound could be compared to someone dropping their shoe on the ground, to Mark though, it sounded like a pine tree falling.

Mark froze in place, his voice gone, his heart stopped, and he had turned into a statue. The whole world had taken one deep breath, and held it, tightly. The last thing to ever move was the creature, setting its arms down, eating the last of the maggots. Slowly, as if worried it would cause the source of the sound to flee, it turned its head to the left. For a moment, Mark thought he had died, and was now staring into the face of death itself. That face which presented an ape, emotionless, yet showing every emotion at the same time. The face of a human, sorrowful, upsetting, along with pure rage.

It scowled, growling silently. Standing up, the creature raised its arms, letting out a powerful, guttural roar. Mark could not have screamed any louder, and without hesitation, spun, his boots pounding against the dirt as he sprinted for dear life.

The fog did nothing to block his way, Mark tore through the clouds blindly, kicking up dirt behind him. Already he found himself in the woods, dodging trees and jumping over rocks, skimming past small lakes and splashing in puddles. As soon as silence managed to fall, the forest was interrupted when a loud, sound breaking roar rose from not far back. Mark could not hold in a scream as he heard the heavy footsteps slamming against the ground like a charging bull, the beast hollering after him.

It felt as if the creature was running inches away from Mark's fleeing figure as it growled and snarled, pounding its fist against the trees, shoving them out of its way. Mark soon came to a long drop, enough to put him in more of a daze. As the creature came up behind him, reaching its arm out to swoop him up, Mark took the chance. He leaped into the air as a bird would take flight, touching the clouds and going airborne. He fell, farther than he had anticipated. Soon enough he hit the ground. Mark let out an agonized yelp as he tumbled forward, covering himself in leaves and dirt, the world spinning before his eyes - all the while that thing roared down at him.

Mark thought he was falling forever, thinking about the next time he would open his eyes - he would find himself back in the village, far away from the woods and back to civilization. Something jabbed into his side, causing him to stop abruptly, making him groan. Mark felt pain as he rolled, placing his hands on the ground to pick himself up. He laid there for a bit, taking in what just occurred, allowing his body to rest. His arms, face, legs, and back were throbbing while he lay coughing and wheezing, grinding his teeth together, hoping his heart was still beating inside his chest.

Cautiously, Mark placed his arms down, lifted himself, placed a foot down, and stood. He stumbled backwards a little, but managed to keep his balance. His side hurt because he rolled straight into a tree, and now it was weighing heavy on him. Blood felt to be trickling down his pant leg, but Mark knew he had to keep running. He forced his legs to move, to take step after step, his right leg useless, his left the only one with power. His run turned out to be a walk, and almost tripped again when it hit him in the back.

Mark spun around, wanting to scream until his lungs burst. But didn't, because nothing stood in front of him. He jerked his head side to side, searching, mind frantic. Trees were spotted, but the fog masked the creature. Mark managed to yelp when something skimmed past his head. He stared down at what almost hit him: A rock. His breathing picked up, knowing that, if it did hit him, he would already be dead - at least, he wouldn't have to be face to face with the creature anymore.

Another roar bounced off every tree, followed by larger rocks; Mark did not hesitate to turn and run. He imagined himself as a snail, wanting to go faster yet only continued to go slower and slower by the minute. The small boulders barely touched him, making the ground shake when they fell, slamming against trees and causing bark to fall by splinters, raining down on Mark. He covered his head with his arms and tried to run faster, but the pain increased with every footstep. The rocks became larger, and the roar drew closer, but how? How could that thing see him in this fog? What if it could smell him? Or was it closer than he thought? He didn't know, and he didn't want to know. He just kept going, no matter how much it hurt to put pressure on his leg.

One rock, a second, third time is a charm. Mark spat out blood before he fell face first into the mud, the pain sinking into his back, the rock pounding the ground and rolling away. Tears soaked into the dirt as Mark weeped for his life, feeling the entire earth itself vibrate beneath his stomach. The creature stood right over him.

Mark felt the devil's eyes glare down at him, as if he was some kind of uncovered artifact. The creature growled and knelt down, placing its massive hand on Mark's back, basically crushing him. Agony had reached its highest point, and Mark could not stand the fear any longer. His loudest scream was muffled by the dirt in his mouth, which found its way down his throat, causing him to cough - blood escaped his mouth as well. The creature scoffed and watched him, studying his movements. It then grabbed Mark by the head, lifting him up, revealing a sorrowful, dirt covered and bloodied face. Mark edged his eyes to the left. His fear begged him not to, but curiosity was much stronger.

. . . He saw its face. The humanistic, primal, ape-like gaze of emotionless, and every emotion presented inside the yellow eyes; mangled brown hair, dirt trapped in some spaces; small spots of blood were only seen on its face; a small amount of its face was blocked by its hair, swinging side to side with every breath; the teeth were large as a horse's.

The creature's eyes phased left and right, up and down, growling, staring right into Mark's own eyes. He closed them, letting his neck lean back farther and farther, popping his neck, swallowing. He felt the monster's breath burning his face, letting his fate take him, allowing silence to fill his ears. The creature roared again, but abruptly stopped, as if saliva got caught in its throat. It looked around, sniffing the air. It growled again, dropping Mark's head, stood up . . . and stomped off.

After a while had passed, Mark promised himself he was dead. The cold came down on the world, along with a soft touch on the back of his neck. Mark opened his eyes, gasped, and coughed again, spitting out dirt and twigs. He dared to turn his head, examining his surroundings, finding the fog had not gone away, but had brought a light snowfall. Mark stood up carefully, letting his left leg help him up, his right leg limp to rest. He turned around as quickly as possible, trying to spot the creature again . . . and saw nothing. There was nothing in sight, nothing to see except the fog. He waited anxiously, but no scream arose - the creature was gone, and Mark was left all alone.

Excitement and fear crept over him, forcing Mark to turn back around and start running again. Before a minute went by, he found himself trudging down a hill, leaning back, crawling down the hill slowly, making sure to keep his stance at a hard surface. Past the fog he spotted civilization - his town! Mark stepped onto the road and wanted to scream as loud as he could, to let all his exhaustion out of him, but for some reason couldn't - the pain was too much for him, and had to get home, fast.

Everything was quiet, save for the bustling of townsfolk wandering in the cold weather, the grunting of horses, and the never ending groans of cows. People stopped for a second to stare at him, and Mark returned the gaze, speeding up, not wanting to engage in conversation. His house could not come to his view quicker. He opened the gate and hugged his cows, who felt embarrassed as they continued to eat their grass. No time was wasted as he brought every animal back into the barn, closing it up for them to rest. He made his way to his house, panting, smiling, bleeding.

He looked up, and met eye to eye with one of the townsfolk who happened to walk by. They stared at one another for a long time. Mark tried to remember her name. Celia, was it?

" . . . What happened!?"
"N-Nothing. Just, went for a walk."

"Where did you go? You should have been working."

"I know . . . I know."

"You're hurt!"

" . . . I know."

Mark opened his door, and walked inside. Celia stared after him, putting a hand to her chin, baffled, concerned.

That night, Mark lied on his bed, in bandages and blood, arm over his eyes, trying to make himself fall asleep. Every time he shut his eyes for more than a few seconds, he would jerk himself awake, as that face would come to his head. His heart beat faster and faster, fear and curiosity coming over him every passing second. What was that thing? How long has it been here? Did anyone else know about it? Is that why no one was allowed outside of boundaries?

Whatever the cause, whatever the reason, whatever the origin of that creature, Mark will live the rest of his life, to be a successful farmer, with a beautiful wife and child. Along with the thought of that image glued to his mind, even at his death . . . .