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- Story Listed as: Fiction For Adults
- Theme: Mystery
- Subject: Horror / Scary
- Published: 08/17/2017
The Wood Faeries
Born 1964, F, from Gordon, ACT, AustraliaFifteen year old Calvin Croker strode around the ploughed field in the fading sunlight, looking for his dog. The uneven dirt made him stumble, and the dry dust irritated his nose and throat. He spat in the dirt, and kept going.
“Jack, Jack, come on, boy,” he called out. Then muttered under his breath, because he didn’t want to hurt Jack’s feelings, “stupid damn dog. What’s the frigging point giving you a name?”
He reached the edge of the field where it gave way to the chilly, gloomy woods, and hoped to God his stupid damn dog hadn’t gone in there. They were not friendly woods, and Calvin had no intention of going in there.
He could hear Jack whimpering somewhere close, and finally found him crouched behind a bush, staring at the woods and growling-whimpering softly to himself.
“What is it, boy?” Calvin crouched beside his dog and touched his trembling body for comfort. As he stared into the darkness between the trees, he had the unsettling feeling that something malevolent was staring back at him. His skin crawled, and his breathing quickened. He almost felt like growling and whimpering, himself.
The afternoon shadows grew longer, slowly darkening the landscape. The woods became impenetrably black, the feeling of menace almost palpable.
Something heavy fluttered from tree to tree, Calvin could just make out a grey moth-like shape coming towards them. He leapt to his feet and ran for the house. Jack lunged into the woods in a primeval urge to protect his pack. A terrible screeching filled the air. Calvin heard Jack yelp, and he ran faster, crying with shame.
Calvin couldn’t remember the run home. He must have tripped a couple of times, because his trousers were torn and his bleeding knees were packed with red dirt. His palms burned where they had skidded along the ground.
He must have looked a sight when he burst into the house. His mother quickly hustled him off to the bathroom, while his father grabbed a rifle and strode from the house.
Calvin screamed, “NO!” and his dad paused on the front porch then turned around and came back inside. He knew.
“Where’s Jack?” he asked gruffly.
Calvin shook his head and tried not to cry. “He went into the woods. I think something got him.” He swallowed hard a couple of times, then followed his mother to the bathroom, where she already had the big old enamel tub half full of steaming water. She left him to strip down and ease himself into the water. His wounds stung, but he barely felt them. He laid back and allowed the tears to come. “I’m sorry, Jack,” he whispered, and cried until the water cooled around him.
The next morning, Calvin and his dad walked to the spot where Calvin had last seen Jack. “You wait here, son.” Calvin was guiltily grateful to stay behind while his dad strode bravely into the woods.
Gerald Croker strode confidently into the woods for as long as his boy was watching, but his pace quickly slowed as the fear grew inside him. He heard an unnatural rustling in the trees, could feel something black and evil watching him.
He could smell death.
A bloody patch was all that remained of Jack, and Gerald bowed his head in respect. Poor old dog, he didn’t deserve this terrible end. A ray of sunlight reached into this dark place, and glinted off something nearby.
Despite his strong desire to leave this place, Gerald couldn’t help his curiosity. He brushed leaves and twigs aside, uncovering a small pile of gold coins. The woods went silent as he quickly transferred the treasure into his pockets and scanned the surrounding area. He couldn’t see anything else worth salvaging. He paused at the bloody patch, his pockets full of gold, and a thought occurred to him. Was this payment? Gold coins for an ageing dog? His mind turned over the information, formless schemes drifted and took shape.
He left the woods, shook his head at Calvin’s enquiring look, and they walked home in silence.
The next day, Gerald went into town to swap half his treasure for ten thousand dollars, which was transferred into his bank account. He knew it was probably worth a lot more than that, but it was more than enough to pay off his more immediate creditors and leave a nice cushion in his account for emergencies. Or maybe a deposit on a new ute. He briefly considered telling his wife about the windfall, but quickly dismissed the notion. Women didn’t need to know everything about a man’s business, after all.
He made one last purchase before leaving town.
“What’d you bring that dirty thing home for?” Joan Croker stood in the doorway with her hands on her hips, glaring as her husband encouraged a large, baulky pig down the ramp. Gerald ignored her, which only fuelled her anger. “And where’d you get the money? Surely we’ve got better things to spend money on. I haven’t had a new dress in years! And when’s the last time we went and had dinner out? And what about ….” Gerald tuned out with an ease born of long practice, but her nagging voice still droned in his head, annoying in its insistent mosquito-whine. He wondered darkly what her doughy old body would be worth in gold, but quickly shut down those thoughts and concentrated instead on getting the pig into the shed.
The small family ate their dinner in an uncomfortable silence. Joan had deliberately served a sparse meal on their mismatched and chipped plates to make a point. She stabbed at the thin layer of tough beef and glared at Gerald, who was resentfully making the most of the unappetising food. God knew he gave the woman enough money, couldn’t she serve up a decent meal once in a while?
Calvin stirred food around on his plate, taking an occasional bite. The tension around the table was a real appetite killer, and he missed Jack.
Finally, dinner was over. Calvin disappeared into his room, and his father settled in front of the television with a beer, leaving Joan to clean up. “As usual,” she muttered under her breath. “When is it my turn? When do I get to sit and do nothing?” She made as much noise as possible, seething with anger as Gerald turned the television up in response. She wondered again where the money came from and how much there was. The small stash of gold coins hidden in her husband’s underwear drawer had long since made their way into her own possession, and she wondered if he had more hidden away.
There were stories, growing up, of the wood faeries, who would pay in gold coin for food and other favours. There were rumours of children going missing, only to be replaced by piles of gold for the bereaved family. But they were just stories to frighten naughty children … weren’t they? But she thought just maybe she knew what had happened to their dog, and why her husband had bought a pig, and she determined to follow him tomorrow to see what he was up to.
The next afternoon saw Mr Croker lead a reluctant pig over the ploughed fields, followed at a discreet distance by Mrs Croker. She watched as he disappeared into the woods, and she sat nearby to await his return. Daylight or not, she did not want to go in there.
Gerald led the pig to the clearing where he had found Jack’s remains, and he tethered it to a log. He emptied a bag of dinner scraps onto the ground, and watched as the pig happily snuffled through the food. Feeling somewhat like a murderer, he turned and walked away. He could hear … things, moving and whirring in the treetops and bushes. He kept walking.
Screeching echoed through the woods, followed by pigsqueals of pain and fear that were abruptly cut off. In the quiet, he could hear the sucking, tearing sounds of something monstrous feeding on the carcass. Curiosity beat his revulsion, and he crept back to look, knowing he would regret it but unable to stop himself.
He spied on them from the shadows, these winged creatures that swarmed over the cooling pig carcass. Each creature was about two feet long, their obscene grey bodies bloated and dirty. Ragged wings sprouted from their shoulders and vibrated with greedy excitement. He watched in disgust as they chewed their way into the pig, some of them already in up to their blood-soaked shoulders.
One of them pulled its head out of a bloody hole and hungrily observed him with shiny dead eyes. Gerald was paralysed with fear as he stared at the monster’s furry, insectile face. One curved fang arced from a hole in its face, covered in blood and gore. A long, thin tongue curled out and licked pieces of offal into its mouth.
Gerald staggered back, heaving for breath, before turning and running for his life. The fading afternoon sun was over-bright after the gloom of the woods, and he didn’t see his wife until he nearly ran into her. He wheezed out a thin scream and dropped to the ground, panting for breath.
“You weren’t even going to tell me about the gold, were you, you selfish S.O.B.” Joan glared at her husband’s prone body. Her toxic shadow loomed over him, and he felt a sudden sharp hatred for this woman, his wife of nearly twenty years.
“Of course I was,” he lied. “There’s gonna be way too much gold for one person to carry, you’ll have to help me carry it tomorrow afternoon, anyway.”
“Why tomorrow afternoon,” she asked suspiciously. “Why not in the morning?”
Gerald thought quickly. He got to his feet, dusted himself off, then looked her in the eye. “That’s what they told me,” he whispered hoarsely. “Pig’s bigger than a dog, it’s gonna take them longer to carry all the gold to the pickup spot.”
She nodded. That made sense. Without a word, she turned and walked away, leaving Gerald to limp back to the house on his own.
Dinner again was a silent affair.
Joan was thinking of all the things she could do with her share of the money. She could get a place of her own in town, maybe. Leave this dump and her loser husband and kid. Just come back when she needed more money.
Gerald was thinking of other things, his own plans much darker than his wife’s. He looked at her homely face over the dinner table, thinking of how she’d let herself go after giving birth. She didn’t even make up for her looks in other ways. He didn’t care about the sex, there were other … options. But she was quite frankly a slob around the house, and couldn’t cook worth a damn.
Calvin stirred his peas into his watery mashed potatoes and nibbled at a dry chicken breast.
The disappearance of Mr and Mrs Croker was the talk of the town for months. No-one knew where they had gone, or why they had left their son behind.
But, everyone agreed, at least they had left him enough gold to last him for the rest of his life.
The Wood Faeries(Hazel Dow)
Fifteen year old Calvin Croker strode around the ploughed field in the fading sunlight, looking for his dog. The uneven dirt made him stumble, and the dry dust irritated his nose and throat. He spat in the dirt, and kept going.
“Jack, Jack, come on, boy,” he called out. Then muttered under his breath, because he didn’t want to hurt Jack’s feelings, “stupid damn dog. What’s the frigging point giving you a name?”
He reached the edge of the field where it gave way to the chilly, gloomy woods, and hoped to God his stupid damn dog hadn’t gone in there. They were not friendly woods, and Calvin had no intention of going in there.
He could hear Jack whimpering somewhere close, and finally found him crouched behind a bush, staring at the woods and growling-whimpering softly to himself.
“What is it, boy?” Calvin crouched beside his dog and touched his trembling body for comfort. As he stared into the darkness between the trees, he had the unsettling feeling that something malevolent was staring back at him. His skin crawled, and his breathing quickened. He almost felt like growling and whimpering, himself.
The afternoon shadows grew longer, slowly darkening the landscape. The woods became impenetrably black, the feeling of menace almost palpable.
Something heavy fluttered from tree to tree, Calvin could just make out a grey moth-like shape coming towards them. He leapt to his feet and ran for the house. Jack lunged into the woods in a primeval urge to protect his pack. A terrible screeching filled the air. Calvin heard Jack yelp, and he ran faster, crying with shame.
Calvin couldn’t remember the run home. He must have tripped a couple of times, because his trousers were torn and his bleeding knees were packed with red dirt. His palms burned where they had skidded along the ground.
He must have looked a sight when he burst into the house. His mother quickly hustled him off to the bathroom, while his father grabbed a rifle and strode from the house.
Calvin screamed, “NO!” and his dad paused on the front porch then turned around and came back inside. He knew.
“Where’s Jack?” he asked gruffly.
Calvin shook his head and tried not to cry. “He went into the woods. I think something got him.” He swallowed hard a couple of times, then followed his mother to the bathroom, where she already had the big old enamel tub half full of steaming water. She left him to strip down and ease himself into the water. His wounds stung, but he barely felt them. He laid back and allowed the tears to come. “I’m sorry, Jack,” he whispered, and cried until the water cooled around him.
The next morning, Calvin and his dad walked to the spot where Calvin had last seen Jack. “You wait here, son.” Calvin was guiltily grateful to stay behind while his dad strode bravely into the woods.
Gerald Croker strode confidently into the woods for as long as his boy was watching, but his pace quickly slowed as the fear grew inside him. He heard an unnatural rustling in the trees, could feel something black and evil watching him.
He could smell death.
A bloody patch was all that remained of Jack, and Gerald bowed his head in respect. Poor old dog, he didn’t deserve this terrible end. A ray of sunlight reached into this dark place, and glinted off something nearby.
Despite his strong desire to leave this place, Gerald couldn’t help his curiosity. He brushed leaves and twigs aside, uncovering a small pile of gold coins. The woods went silent as he quickly transferred the treasure into his pockets and scanned the surrounding area. He couldn’t see anything else worth salvaging. He paused at the bloody patch, his pockets full of gold, and a thought occurred to him. Was this payment? Gold coins for an ageing dog? His mind turned over the information, formless schemes drifted and took shape.
He left the woods, shook his head at Calvin’s enquiring look, and they walked home in silence.
The next day, Gerald went into town to swap half his treasure for ten thousand dollars, which was transferred into his bank account. He knew it was probably worth a lot more than that, but it was more than enough to pay off his more immediate creditors and leave a nice cushion in his account for emergencies. Or maybe a deposit on a new ute. He briefly considered telling his wife about the windfall, but quickly dismissed the notion. Women didn’t need to know everything about a man’s business, after all.
He made one last purchase before leaving town.
“What’d you bring that dirty thing home for?” Joan Croker stood in the doorway with her hands on her hips, glaring as her husband encouraged a large, baulky pig down the ramp. Gerald ignored her, which only fuelled her anger. “And where’d you get the money? Surely we’ve got better things to spend money on. I haven’t had a new dress in years! And when’s the last time we went and had dinner out? And what about ….” Gerald tuned out with an ease born of long practice, but her nagging voice still droned in his head, annoying in its insistent mosquito-whine. He wondered darkly what her doughy old body would be worth in gold, but quickly shut down those thoughts and concentrated instead on getting the pig into the shed.
The small family ate their dinner in an uncomfortable silence. Joan had deliberately served a sparse meal on their mismatched and chipped plates to make a point. She stabbed at the thin layer of tough beef and glared at Gerald, who was resentfully making the most of the unappetising food. God knew he gave the woman enough money, couldn’t she serve up a decent meal once in a while?
Calvin stirred food around on his plate, taking an occasional bite. The tension around the table was a real appetite killer, and he missed Jack.
Finally, dinner was over. Calvin disappeared into his room, and his father settled in front of the television with a beer, leaving Joan to clean up. “As usual,” she muttered under her breath. “When is it my turn? When do I get to sit and do nothing?” She made as much noise as possible, seething with anger as Gerald turned the television up in response. She wondered again where the money came from and how much there was. The small stash of gold coins hidden in her husband’s underwear drawer had long since made their way into her own possession, and she wondered if he had more hidden away.
There were stories, growing up, of the wood faeries, who would pay in gold coin for food and other favours. There were rumours of children going missing, only to be replaced by piles of gold for the bereaved family. But they were just stories to frighten naughty children … weren’t they? But she thought just maybe she knew what had happened to their dog, and why her husband had bought a pig, and she determined to follow him tomorrow to see what he was up to.
The next afternoon saw Mr Croker lead a reluctant pig over the ploughed fields, followed at a discreet distance by Mrs Croker. She watched as he disappeared into the woods, and she sat nearby to await his return. Daylight or not, she did not want to go in there.
Gerald led the pig to the clearing where he had found Jack’s remains, and he tethered it to a log. He emptied a bag of dinner scraps onto the ground, and watched as the pig happily snuffled through the food. Feeling somewhat like a murderer, he turned and walked away. He could hear … things, moving and whirring in the treetops and bushes. He kept walking.
Screeching echoed through the woods, followed by pigsqueals of pain and fear that were abruptly cut off. In the quiet, he could hear the sucking, tearing sounds of something monstrous feeding on the carcass. Curiosity beat his revulsion, and he crept back to look, knowing he would regret it but unable to stop himself.
He spied on them from the shadows, these winged creatures that swarmed over the cooling pig carcass. Each creature was about two feet long, their obscene grey bodies bloated and dirty. Ragged wings sprouted from their shoulders and vibrated with greedy excitement. He watched in disgust as they chewed their way into the pig, some of them already in up to their blood-soaked shoulders.
One of them pulled its head out of a bloody hole and hungrily observed him with shiny dead eyes. Gerald was paralysed with fear as he stared at the monster’s furry, insectile face. One curved fang arced from a hole in its face, covered in blood and gore. A long, thin tongue curled out and licked pieces of offal into its mouth.
Gerald staggered back, heaving for breath, before turning and running for his life. The fading afternoon sun was over-bright after the gloom of the woods, and he didn’t see his wife until he nearly ran into her. He wheezed out a thin scream and dropped to the ground, panting for breath.
“You weren’t even going to tell me about the gold, were you, you selfish S.O.B.” Joan glared at her husband’s prone body. Her toxic shadow loomed over him, and he felt a sudden sharp hatred for this woman, his wife of nearly twenty years.
“Of course I was,” he lied. “There’s gonna be way too much gold for one person to carry, you’ll have to help me carry it tomorrow afternoon, anyway.”
“Why tomorrow afternoon,” she asked suspiciously. “Why not in the morning?”
Gerald thought quickly. He got to his feet, dusted himself off, then looked her in the eye. “That’s what they told me,” he whispered hoarsely. “Pig’s bigger than a dog, it’s gonna take them longer to carry all the gold to the pickup spot.”
She nodded. That made sense. Without a word, she turned and walked away, leaving Gerald to limp back to the house on his own.
Dinner again was a silent affair.
Joan was thinking of all the things she could do with her share of the money. She could get a place of her own in town, maybe. Leave this dump and her loser husband and kid. Just come back when she needed more money.
Gerald was thinking of other things, his own plans much darker than his wife’s. He looked at her homely face over the dinner table, thinking of how she’d let herself go after giving birth. She didn’t even make up for her looks in other ways. He didn’t care about the sex, there were other … options. But she was quite frankly a slob around the house, and couldn’t cook worth a damn.
Calvin stirred his peas into his watery mashed potatoes and nibbled at a dry chicken breast.
The disappearance of Mr and Mrs Croker was the talk of the town for months. No-one knew where they had gone, or why they had left their son behind.
But, everyone agreed, at least they had left him enough gold to last him for the rest of his life.
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