Badlands

4

A gentle creak whispered beneath my flats as I stepped onto the beech bridge, the weathered planks worn smooth by countless crossings. The corners of my lips curled upward involuntarily. 

Stepping off the beech bridge, I wandered further into the night's embrace, my feet brushing against the soft earth as I made my way through the field. The scent of lavender enveloped me, a fragrant cloud that lifted my spirits even higher. 

I twirled, a solitary figure amidst the silver beams of moonlight.

I noticed fireflies, flickering around me. Their glow punctuated the darkness, tiny beacons that seemed to celebrate my presence. I reached out, feeling like a child again.

The night seemed to pull me into its depths. Laying down in the wet grass field, thinking of Mother and words she might say if she were here with me now, I think she'd scold me for wearing nothing but my uniform dress in this chill dark hour. But I can imagine her saying it with a tinged grin and a tut on her lips. 

I think of her fingers in my hair, and her warm arms, and how she would laugh at the littlest of things. When I try really hard, I can hear how she pronounces my name, how soft and loving it sounds. 

 An unnerving sensation, a prickling at the back of my neck. It was as though one of those countless stars had shifted its gaze directly upon me. A chill tiptoed down my spine, and I blinked, trying to shake the eerie feeling that I was no longer alone in my admiration of remembrance. The playful twinkle of the stars now held a watchful glint, and I couldn't help but glance around, searching for the source of this sudden disquiet.

My heart began to drum a frantic rhythm against my ribcage as I turned my gaze from the heavens to the earth. There, at the shadowy fringe where the forest met the field, I saw them. Eyes—luminous, unblinking orbs that cut through the darkness like twin moons. They were fixed on me, unwavering, and something primal within me recognized the stare of a predator.

I tried to steady my breath, to calm the tempest of fear swirling inside, but my body was a live wire, every sense heightened to an excruciating degree. The eyes belonged to no creature I had ever laid eyes upon before; they were too large, too knowing. And in the scant light, I could discern the outline of a dark-furred beast, its shape an amalgam of shadow and menace.

Ears straining, I picked up on a new sound—a murmuring that seemed to emanate from the very trees themselves. It was a whispering, like leaves chattering in a breeze that did not touch the rest of the glade. The words, if there were any, eluded my understanding, yet their cadence bore an intention that made my skin crawl. It felt as though the forest itself conspired against me, discussing my fate with a language born of root and branch.

"Who's there?" My voice broke the silence like a pebble shattering the surface of a still pond. In response, the whispers grew louder, more insistent, threading through the night air like tendrils seeking to ensnare me in their invisible grip. The eyes did not move, did not blink, and I felt the weight of their stare—a physical force pushing against me, urging me to flee.

A growl echoed, a surge of adrenaline propelled me into motion, my feet carrying me away from the haunting chorus of whispers and the piercing gaze that I could feel searing into my back. The bridge, once a crossing over gentle waters, now felt like the last lifeline.

The darkness behind me was alive with murmurs, voices not quite human, weaving an eerie tapestry of sounds that nipped at my heels like the cold fingers of dread. They spurred me onward, faster than I had ever thought possible, the soft earth beneath my feet feeling unsteady and treacherous.

I dared not glance back, fearing what sight might greet me—those eyes, perhaps, or worse, the full horror of the beast revealed by the moon's betraying light. I focused instead on the sprawling manor that grew larger with every stride.