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Any World You Choose
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6
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He thought about Susan as well. He had thought about calling her,
trying to explain things to her, but he knew it would just sound like
rambling. There was nothing he could do about her right now. First, he
had to go back to the woods and follow that strange cry as he had once
before.
The road to the cabin was overgrown and he had almost missed his
turnoff thanks to the brush which obscured the road's entrance. It was
little more than a trail that had been worn away by the trucks that
made their way to the half dozens cabins that lay deeper in the forest.
His little car bounced and struggled down the beaten trail as he went
deeper in the woods, overhanging branches and an overcast sky making
the woods seem oddly silent and dark for midday.
The cabin was still where he remembered, about a half mile into the
woods. The last cabin in a line strung out over the old trail. Richard
could remeber the old wood burning stove that doubled as the cabin's
heater. He could remember helping carry split logs into the cabin, damp
logs with ants spilling out of cracks and a musty smell about them.
He didn't bother going into the cabin, even though he had a spare set
of keys for it. Instead, he made his way around back and stood under
the window that was his old bedroom. He thought about Peter sliding out
that window and dancing towards the forest. The skies began to darken
as the clouds grew grey and heavy with autumn rain. Shadows began to
fall across the backyard. Long shadows that Richard could swear twisted
themselves into new shapes as he stared at them.
Richard could feel the tension building, the song about to be sung. It
began softly, a faint echo of the wind, than began growing in volume.
It was a low moan, almost like a foghorn sounding at night, but with a
drawn out and almost human quality. The pitch suddenly began climbing
rapidly to peak at a piercing whine. Then, nothing more but the sound
of the wind blowing through the trees.
Richard felt the rough wood of the cabin against him as he pressed
himself back against the it. He realized he was shaking without control
and tried to tell himself that the wail was not the sound he had heard
on that night so long ago.
It was then that he realized how dark it had gotten. The grey clouds
had darkened further and now it seemed as if night had come upon him.
Impossible as it seemed the shadows still wavered and flickered across
the yard, though there was scarce enough light to cast them.
It wasn't until the shadows began rising that he screamed. They seemed
to pull themselves off the ground and flapped in the brisk wind. Vague
shapes, humanoid perhaps and yet posessing little depth. They resembled
black fabric snapping in the wind. Richard dug his nails into the old
wood of the cabin, blood seeping out from splinters and the pain
pulling him to his senses a bit.
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7