Wild Beast

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Thrillers  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: June 20, 2016

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Submitted: June 20, 2016

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Mike knew that he was in trouble the instant the torch died. He had been hiking in the Amazon forest for three days now, freezing at night and creating enough sweat to fill the Atlantic Ocean during the day. He didn’t stop though, he was determined to finish his journey; he wouldn’t stop until the artefact was in his hands.

Today he had discovered a cave with markings out the front that looked as if they were done thousands of years ago. “It must be here,” he had said before entering. He could feel the power of the artefact the instant he entered the cave. The power washed over him like a king tide. He knew that he was close, so close that his hands started to sweat with anticipation. He had walked through the cave for what felt like an eternity with no sign that the artefact was there, but he knew it was. “It has to be,” he kept saying to himself. He had to prove that he wasn’t crazy and that this was real.

He finally reached an open part of the cave; the air was so full of moisture that it was almost impossible to breathe. He hadn’t showered in days and probably smelt like death itself. He shone the torch around and finally noticed it; he finally found evidence that he wasn’t crazy. He crept closer to the cave wall and examined the painting of a strange totem that must have been the ancient artefact. He ran his hand down the wall, feeling the rough rocks and almost started to cry. For years, he had been researching. For years, he had been called crazy for believing. Now he finally had evidence to prove otherwise.

A cold breeze sent a shiver down Mike’s spine. As much as he wanted to find this totem he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was in danger. He shook the feeling away and checked that his gun was still holstered in his belt. He got up and started to walk around longing for more clues. His body ached from days of hiking but he didn’t care, he needed this. The torch finally ran out and the instant it did Mike got another shiver down his spine as if something was watching him. He could only just hear what sounded like a soft breathing. He shook the torch, desperate to get a few more minutes of light, enough to find his way back to camp. The light didn’t come back on, but Mike was kind of glad it didn’t.

When he raised his head he froze in fear, staring at him were blood red eyes, so red that it looked like Mike’s blood was swishing around in them. The beast let out a growl, which made Mike wake up from his fear. He turned and started to run for the exit, he could barely see the path out except for the slightest shine of the sun through cracks in the ceiling. Mike didn’t turn to see if the creature was chasing him, he didn’t want to. He burst out of the cave’s entrance and was blinded by the searing sun. He kept running, getting cuts from the low hanging branches and hisses and growls from the random animals he disturbed. He stopped for a breather and rested against a rock trying to gain his thoughts; this turned out to be the worst mistake of his life.

Through his hazy eyes he looked to the right and was again met by the blood red eyes hiding in the bushes. Fear hit him like a bullet and he started to sprint again. The sun was starting to go down, so the dim light that was escaping through trees was getting weaker and weaker. “Have to keep running,” Mike panted, “have to keep moving.” All he did by saying this was curse himself. He ran into a rock and fell over. He tried to get up but had to bite back a curse when a flaring pain shot through his ankle. “No, no no, you can’t be sprained, you can’t be,” he shouted. He tried to get up again but no good, he fell back down in even more pain. A roar let out a few meters away. “Fine I’ll crawl,” he yelled at the ankle.

He started a crawl and entered an open space separated by a lake with a massive boulder in the middle. He made his way towards the rock, barely making it before the last pieces of sunlight died away. He climbed as best he could trying not to put weight on the ankle. He reached the top and pulled out his gun. His eyes scanned his surrounds for any signs of movement. He laid there for what felt like years, pointing his gun at any creak or crack he heard. Mike dared not think that the creature gave up, he knew it was out there waiting, he could feel it. The rushing of the water was the only noise he heard for a while. Every now and then a twig would snap and a chill would run down Mike’s spine. A small growl was let out behind Mike and he spun around as fast as he could and met the eyes again.

Those blood red eyes met his. Mike and the creature were at a stalemate for a minute. “Come on,” Mike yelled at the beast. “Finish it.” The creature let out a roar and pounced at Mike; Mike yelled a battle cry and fired his gun. Bang, Bang, Bang. Birds flew out of trees, animals let out winces and the shots rang through the air. Then silence, not a roar of triumph, a yell of agony or victory, not even a yelp for help. Just silence. A few days later, Mike was found dead with scratches on his neck and face. His gun was empty and orange fur covered his clothing. A blood trail was found trailing back into the cave and the creature has never been seen again.


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