Things get especially interesting at dusk in the forest. Shadows take over. I concentrate on not looking too closely as they stretch towards me. If the wind is moving through the high branches, the shadows mimic this movement of nature.
Eventually, I forget not to stare for too long. Big mistake. Regretfully, I admit that I see forms that should not be there. My mind cannot makes sense of what I am seeing. It is disturbing.
Confronting my fears, I stop what I am doing, turn and focus my sight. It is at this point, the mind must be controlled. I am at the point of accepting what is appearing before me or rejecting it as impossible. If successful in this battle, the later wins out and I explain the shadows away. They go back to form that makes sense casted by something natural. If my mind loses control over my vision, the shadow creatures become fully formed.
I struggle to keep them at distance from my camp. I quickly build a fire. The dancing flamess create counter shadows. A small but comforting circle of light protects me. As long as the flames flicker, the Shadow Creatures keep their distance staring from their glooming darkness. The barrier of light ultimately diminishes as my collected pile of firewood is exhausted. As the final flames surrender, once again, the shadow creatures become bold and approach.
An evil spirit has followed me to camp from that narrow hollow I passed through miles ago. I disturbed its ground with my boots. It pursued me. I sensed it. A rustling of leaves echoing my footsteps. When I stopped, it stopped.
“Go back”, I yell into the night. “I am sorry. I meant no offence.” I sense no mercy. This malevolent spirit is full of hate and wants only revenge for a past offense. I was not the original offender. This is an ancient feud. I just happen to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. The only thing that can save me now is summoning my own ancient wrath. From deep within my DNA, I transform into a beast much like the ancient demigod Cuhcullin.
Far down the mountain and across a darkened field, a farmer turns off the engine of his truck. The headlights dim as its electrical current bleeds dry. He climbs down from his cluttered cab onto the hardscrabble drive. Suddenly, his bent frame twists spontaneously at an unearthly sound from the distance ridge. Eyes widen and head tilted, he listens through the wind as fierce growls and unearthly shrieks create a cacophony of horrific violence. Hurriedly, slams shut the truck door. A terrified glance over his shouldehe causes him to stumble. With bad knees, he climbs with difficulty the four steps to the farmhouse door. The protection of his house is punctuated with loud bang of the thick wooden slamming shut. He turns the deadbolt. “This is no night to be out” he whispers to the empty house. There is a fight in the woods and it isn’t between animals nor humans. He wants no part of it. With more force than is necessary, he flips the switch illuminating all four corners of his stone house. Flood lights push back the darkness across his yard at the base of a dark looming mountain ridge. He swipes back the curtains and stares through the window clutching his shotgun tightly. He looks into the shadows but not too closely. Drawing the curtains he climbs the stairs to the second floor bedroom. Turning off the light on the night stand next to the bed, he lays a shotgun next to him on the bed. A gust of wind pelts the glass of his window bringing with it tormented screams of a far off combatant losing its battle for life. Before falling asleep, he prays the rural electricity cooperative keeps the lights on across the Valley tonight.