Bright Eyes

         Tuckersville was a broken triangle of land cut out of surrounding county, almost as an afterthought. South of the town was where the half suburban area forming the outskirts of the city of Lanton began. Though calling Lanton a city would be generous--in reality it was a tightly packed and densely populated area of semi-urban squalor which used to be home to one of the largest and wealthiest industrial refineries in the country; but the steel mill and the rubber plant had shut down years ago, and when the captains of industry left, so did the money and amount of effort the state afforded to infrastructure. The town of Tuckersville itself consisted of a square which had formed around the main county road, with many smaller side streets snaking off of it in winding patterns, connected into neighborhoods by avenues and allies. The rest of the town's area was made up of farmland, meadows, parks, and woods.

         The woods around Tuckersville held an ancient and wild atmosphere which cared not for the advances of human kind. They held a mysterious energy which was constantly evident to all who came close to them, let alone went into them. For the most part, this timeless aura was immensely captivating. Many hours and days were spent playing, and exploring through those sunlight-spotted playgrounds; young heats and old souls alike found magic in those groves and thickets which surrounded the town. These wooded areas inconsistently wove through Tuckersville, like island chains in a small sea of fields and farms, making a trail back to their sources on the northwest edge of town--The Jerusalem Forest. It had once covered the entire area, but had been cleared little by little over time since the settling of the place to make room for agriculture and homesteads. Even with this encroachment, the forest itself stretched on for miles with only the county road cutting through it. The forest held the same air as the wooded ares around Tuckersville but it was deeper; more wild and unruly. It's beauty was unmatched, and those of a more sensitive nature would sometimes feel entranced by the nature enveloping them. Yet the onset of dusk and the creeping shades of night brought a shift the place. Not a transformation—that would imply a change into something entirely new. No, at night another side of the forests' intrinsic nature awoke, and filled it with a deep darkness.

         It was on a mid-September evening that Andrew stood outside the coffeehouse where he worked, waiting for his bus and cursing the cold. Earlier that day had held the traces of the fleeting summer, before they entirely gave way to the coming autumn. Now, with the sun beginning to kiss the western horizon, a bitter chill had descended upon the town. As he waited beneath the humming light of the covered bus stop Andrew shifted from side to side. He was anxious to get home. He had agreed to cover the last shift of the day, not knowing the weather would change so harshly. Finally, the bus which would carry him to the last stop in town arrived. As the lumbering vehicle came to a strained halt, the thin doors swished open, and a smiling round face greeted him.

         “Well, it’s you again tonight, huh kid?”, the driver said with a grin. He was a stout, balding middle-aged man who, despite his lack of sharp or distinctive features, possessed a generally cheery disposition that made him a welcome sight.

         “Yup, me again Mr. Peterson.” Andrew ascended the steps, put his fair in the coin slot, and handed the driver a tall paper cup. “One large Dark-Roast, three sugars, extra cream.”

         “Ah, kid ya never forget about me! And ya know somthin’--the chains places just can't hold a candle to Aleister's; best coffee in the whole county.”
The driver smiled warmly at Andrew as he plopped down into one of the worn-out seats before their departure. As the bus glided through the crisp evening air, Andrew looked out at the passing buildings, ablaze with orange and purple light from the last rays of the setting sun. The bus continued onward to its destination, and as it did the forest which marked the edge of town came closer, and closer into view. Andrew felt the pit of his stomach drop in anticipation of the looming dread he knew would soon be surrounding him. Andrews parents’, being of quiet and relaxed minds, had made their home in a charming and rustic house situated in the forest, just off the county road. To them it was a sanctuary where they could breathe deeply and their minds could float beyond the everyday stresses of waking life. Andrew always felt his home was more like a settler’s homestead, cut off from what little civilization there was by a twisted enclosure of trees. The bus’s route ended at a stop built right at the mouth of the Jerusalem Forest, used by the few people whose homes where this far out of town. Andrew’s home was the farthest; about half of a mile down the wooded road, and he had to make this last stretch on foot. The walk itself was not a particularly difficult one, and in the afternoon light of a fine day, it could be extremely pleasant. At night, however, the very thought of it filled Andrew with dread and a feeling in the pit of his stomach similar to the wriggling of large spiders.

         “Alrighty, last stop of the local line!” the driver called out, as the bus hissed to a halt. “Same time tomorrow night, kid?”

         “Nope, I’ve got the morning shift tomorrow Mr. Peterson,” Andrew said, half yawning as he pulled himself up from the seat, “I’ll be on the last shift again in two days.”

         “Ah, no way!” Mr. Peterson shot back with a sarcastic smirk, “then who’s gonna bring me my java?”

         “Ok,’’ Andrew laughed, “How about next time I bring you your coffee, and I save you two Boston Creams; how does that sound? Will you forgive me then?” The driver’s face beamed with a great smile that forced the bright eyes on his round face to squint slightly.

         “Kid, you’ve got yourself a deal! Now be careful heading home, alright?”

         “You bet!” Andrew said, waving back to Mr. Peterson as he dismounted from the bus and set foot on the edge of the road. He heard the creaking, vacuum-like hiss of the doors closing behind him, turning to look as the bus started rolling on back towards town--going, going…gone. Soon Andrew was alone standing beneath the light of another covered bus stop; the last stop. The sun had set completely, and night wrapped around him. Andrew clutched at his light weight jacket in a futile attempt to warm himself, as he stared down the dark road ahead.

         “Damn,” he said to himself, “I hate this.”
As he peered into the gaping maw of the forest, every urban legend, folktale or weird story he had ever heard while living in Tuckersville intruded on his mind like shards of dark glass. He could see how every twisted shadow and shade became host to all the loose spirits and nightmares of the world, as they ran rampant through the ancient trees, calling and crying out in revelry.

“No, stop it!” Andrew bend slightly forward with hands aloft as he shook his head, “There's nothing to be afraid of...nothing out here…old folks just like to tell tall tales to try to scare kids with…monsters, ghosts, creatures--that's all just made up by bored people afraid of the dark. Nothing more.”
A bitter, swift wind blew past Andrew from the direction of the town; it felt as if the woods were trying to pull him into its winding and tangled darkness with a foul, inward breath. Andrew shuddered. Still, he was tired, it was growing colder, and he desperately wanted to be home. With a determined mind fighting against the deep sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, he began his solemn march into the darkness of the forest. Drawing a small flashlight from his pocket, Andrew pointed the beam at the ground just in front of him.

         There were no street lights along the road, and the thickness of the leaves and branches overhead blotted out even the faintest hint of star or moon light. All around a black and endless void threatened to swallow the young man whole, being just barely held back by the tiny beacon of light gripped in his hand. As he walked, Andrew became aware of a tugging in the back of his mind--a nagging sensation trying to bring his attention to something amiss about his surroundings; but what was it? As he went on, Andrew became more and more aware that something was wrong. The notion burned in his brain until suddenly he realized: everything was quiet. An oppressive silence unlike any he had ever experienced surrounded him. He strained his ears to listen for the rustling of a leaf, he held out his hand to feel the movement of the air, but was met by stillness and silence so deep that he crumbled at the feeling of insignificance that washed over him. For the first time in his life, Andrew felt truly small, helpless, and utterly alone.

SNAP!

         The sound of a large twig splintering under pressure rang out from behind him, cracking though the silence like a thunderbolt. Andrew whipped around, shining his light back and forth, trying to identify the source of the noise. He saw nothing.

         “Just a rabbit, or an owl or something,” Andrew said aloud to himself in a quavery voice, “just an animal.”
Forcing his legs to once again move, Andrew resolved to pick up the pace and continued to make his way towards home. He walked on, scanning his periphery and looking behind himself every few steps, but saw nothing. His anxieties began to taper when he could clearly make out the glow of the light of his homes front porch a few yards ahead. Then the sound came again. Louder and closer than before, causing Andrew to stumble in shock.

SNAP!

         “Wh...who's out there!?” Andrew shouted, spinning wildly; frantically searching for the source of the noise. Still he saw nothing.

SNAP!

         Andrew froze in place; the pit of his stomach dropped like a large stone sinking into a lake. His heart pounded in his chest so loudly that he could hear it. In that instant he realized that the sound was not coming from behind him, in front of him or from either side--it was coming from directly overhead. Slowly, hands shaking, he pointed his light up towards the overhanging branches above him. What he saw caused his knees to buckle and made his skin crawl.

         In the light, he could make out a tall and twisted figure, misshapen and gnarled. Its body was covered in something that looked like wet, black, matted fur yet it was not quite fur. Its long appendages bent and contorted at odd angles, and ended in scaly digits tipped with broken, rough talons. It's head, or what seemed to be a head, sported bone-like protrusions glinting against the void, crowned in its own sharp and thorny mass. Two bright and terrible eyes burned from sunken sockets and vile ichor leaked out of its mouth. In what could be called its' hands it held a thin, dry branch broken in two; the hint of a mocking sneer played across the broken and unearthly face. As the thing stared at Andrew, a single, hushed, raspy word echoed from it unknown depths:

         “Run….”

         Andrew fell back as a shriek failed to escape his frozen vocal chords; scrambling to his feet he turned and ran across the road, crashing through the trees and bushes on the other side as fast as his legs could carry him. His heart pounded in his chest, his breath was heavy, lungs on fire, but he didn’t care--he had to get away. He could hear the thing clamoring after him through the trees, the noise growing louder and louder.

SNAP! SNAP!

The thing was closing the gap between it and its' prey. Andrew ran and ran, his strength was waning, but he pushed on with all his might. He look around wildly, trying to find somewhere he could hide, when he saw it: a drainage ditch at the mouth of a half-buried cement tube, built to keep excess rain water from flooding the road. With the last bit of strength, he could muster, Andrew sped up, putting as much distance between the thing and himself as possible. He dove at the drainage tube, clawing his way in, and pulling himself into a ball. He heard the thing crash through the trees above, as it carried on into the distance. The sound grew more faint. Wide eyed and alert, Andrew held his breath, desperately trying to keep from making any sound. He listened intently, straining to pick up any noise; any sign that the thing had doubled back. He heard nothing. The forest was once again permeated by that almost deafening silence. Andrew sunk back against the cool concrete, breathing deeply. It was going to be alright. He was safe.

“I taste your fear…”, the raspy voiced hissed from just behind Andrews head, with the slopping sounds slime against a cavern wall. “I taste it, and it is… delicious...”
Andrews' blood turned to ice in his veins and his hairs stood on end as he turned slowly, and stared into burning eyes, blazing out from deep, dark sockets. Before the burning void overtook him, Andrew could swear he heard the sweetest, most dreadful music he ever had.

         Andrew’s parents found him the next day on the porch. He was just sitting on the bench his father had built the previous month, looking out into the gray, early morning fog. His clothes were slightly tattered and muddy, but not torn. He had no cuts, or bruises. He appeared fine, but for the inexplicable gray streak to his normally dark hair and a slightly glazed look in his eye. When his parents asked him what he was doing, he simply continued to stare, as if his attention was drifting farther and farther away from where he sat. Over the next few weeks, Andrew would find any excuse he could to walk in the Jerusalem Forest. He would disappear for hours at a time and say nothing of where he had been. He seemed to glide through his surroundings as if they were a dream—as if he were walking through a heavy mist of shadow. Even when he was working at Aleister’s Cafe, he seemed oddly distant. And in those brief moments he was not occupied by his work, he would suddenly become transfixed with the distant forest, staring out of the large coffee house windows, eyes glassed over with a twisted smile stretching across his face. His head would bob and sway as if keeping the beat to some strange music only he could hear, and always the same cryptic words would escape his lips,

         “Bright eyes, fire eyes; kiss me again...”

         One day, Andrew was gone. He simply disappeared without a word or a warning. His parents called the police, who conducted as thorough of an investigation as possible. Nothing turned up. His friends had no idea where he could have gone, and neither did his co-workers. Some people said he just ran away, trying to start a new life in a more exciting place than Tuckersville. Others said he was abducted or killed by some drifter--after all, you could never trust outsiders. There was even a rumor that the reason he had turned so strange was that he got involved in some cult, and had run off to join them. The old people in the town knew better though; no one would ever hear from Andrew again, or find any evidence of his whereabouts. They knew that the Jerusalem Forest was one of the old, wild places still left in the world, and that some of the secrets it held were terrible…and deadly.