SUMMER CHILLER CONTESTANT

James slept much later than intended on his first morning in the cottage. Sleep had not come easily. The lack of the familiar sounds of traffic unnerved him, and the creaks and groans of the old building had him snapping his eyes open, staring wide eyed in the darkness. Eventually, the fatigue of uprooting his entire life and moving to the Wiltshire countryside had caught up with him and he fell into a deep undisturbed sleep.
 
After firing up the stove in the kitchen, which also heated the water in the cottage, he had made himself a large breakfast and had taken a long hot bath, washing away the sweat and stress of the previous day. His belongings were mostly still in boxes, strewn across the floor in untidy piles, but they could wait. He wanted to explore his new environment before he started the mammoth task of unpacking.
 
He put a bottle of water into a rucksack and walked to the gate at the bottom of the garden. The forest stood before him, a vast expanse of ivy covered tree trunks leading up to the thick canopy of leaves some thirty feet above him. The greenery of the summer not yet giving way to the yellow and orange hues of the oncoming autumn. The air was filled with the sounds of bird song and thick with the sweet smell of fallen leaves that covered the forest floor. Taking a deep breath, James headed into the woods.
 
He had lived in the city for his entire life, and was unprepared for the concentration of natural beauty. He moved along the path in silence. This place was just what he needed to put all thoughts of the divorce out of his mind. He could feel his malaise lifting already.
 
He came to a fork in the path and paused for a moment to consider the best route, before heading left, deeper into the dense woodlands.
 
He judged that he had been walking for over an hour, perhaps more. The light began to change, taking on a subdued yellow hue and although still warm, a cold edge crept into the breeze that had not been present when he set out. He decided that he should head back before it got dark.
 
A rustling sound came from the undergrowth ahead of him, and he stood transfixed as a large male deer appeared on the path, pausing to regard the intruder before continuing on its way. “God I love this place” he said, turning around and beginning his journey home.

***
 “God I fucking hate this place!” he swore as he stumbled along the trail. The woods were now completely dark, lit only with an occasional silvery light as the moon broke through the cloud cover and he had lost the track a number of times in the darkness, staggering through grasping brambles before finding his way again.
 
Up ahead, the trees started to thin and he pressed on, hoping to have finally gotten out of the endless woodlands. Instead, he arrived at a small clearing containing a black pool of water and overhung by a single weeping willow.
 
The moonlight illuminated the clearing and the pool in a flat monochrome, accentuating the shadows cast by the trees, and shimmering across the pools surface. At the edge of the water stood a young woman, crying into her hands. Her dark hair fell around her shoulders and across the back of the light summer dress she wore.

The girl was translucent, only visible at all when bathed directly in moonlight. Her left side, partly caught in shadow, did not appear to exist. She turned and walked along the edge of the water, fading in and out of existence as she passed through the dancing shadows.

It was then that she noticed him. Her eyes met his and he felt disoriented, as if suffering an attack of vertigo, his heart leaping in his chest and his head spinning. Her mouth opened and she appeared to speak, although the only sounds were those of the woods, then, as the moon moved behind a cloud, she vanished.
He scanned the clearing, searching for her, but all he saw were the long shadows cast by the trees, and the light on the surface of the pool. There was no sign of the girl.

Then he saw her, walking from the far side of the clearing, where the shadows were deeper. At first, all he could see were flashes of illumination, where parts of her body were caught in the silver light. As she made her way across the clearing however, she came into full view.
The girl was walking right for him – a sense of purpose in her stride. Then, as the moon moved behind a cloud, she disappeared again.

James took a deep breath and tried to steady his trembling hands. That was a fucking ghost! His legs were rubber and he stumbled as he backed away from the dark pool. The woods seemed much more inviting all of a sudden.
 
The moon broke free of the clouds once more, and the girl was right beside him. James uttered an involuntary cry. Her mouth moved silently once more – the words “Help me” on her lips. Spectral tears rolled down her face.

James could not move, or even speak for a moment, then, swallowing the hard knot of fear, replied, “How?”

The girl leaned over towards him. Her bright blue eyes were the last things he saw before she kissed him.

 James felt as if he were falling, there was a sharp tearing pain, and then he felt nothing at all. James opened his eyes, and to his horror, realised he was looking right back at himself.
 
“Thank you for the body James. Goodbye”. His body then turned and walked away, back into the woods.

He opened his mouth to scream, but there was only silence. Then the moon passed behind a cloud, and James vanished from sight.

©2009 Graeme Reynolds

Graeme Reynolds is a 38 year old software tester and horror author. You can read his work on his homepage http://www.graemereynolds.com

                                    SUMMER CHILLER CONTESTANT

It was a creepy crawly for sure and it was hiding in the hole. Panic and shock evaporated an hour ago, about the time McPherson had found me.
 
“So I told Ol’ Joe he’d better put down his pitchfork and get on over here.” McPherson squatted over the barrel size hole. Sweat dripped off the tip of his long nose and fell into the abyss at his feet. “Rae Lynn will be here soon and I’ll have her make you some black coffee. Heck, son, you look like you need it.”
 
He looked over at me and all I could do was stare back. I thought it strange when the hole had appeared on the ranch a week ago. I’d asked Ol’ Joe about it. He’d given me his cankerous grin and said it wasn’t unusual in the south.
 
“Sam, you look like you’ve seen a real shocker. Thinking about it, I saw something that gave me a start last night. Something was running between your ranch and mine. I caught a glimpse of something white with long legs, tall as wheat stalks.”
 
I saw them too. Plus more.
 
“There’s mighty weird creatures here in the desert, a lot of creatures you wouldn’t see, wouldn’t even fathom up north. Roger, my oldest, studied them when we first moved here. He had a real fascination. I remember him telling me about Eysin. It’s the weirdest looking critter. It buries its eggs deep in the earth. Every ten years or so, they hatch, dig their way up to the surface all white and gushy like a grub worm, and they got these legs. So gosh darn long, like a creature from a nightmare – eight of ‘em like a dandy long legs. Strange eating habits too. That’s why I remember them so well.” He removed his bowed hat, scratched his head, then replaced it. He squinted up at me. Sweat trickled into my vision. I wanted to blink it away. My eyelids felt glued in place.
 
 “They eat eyes, any kind of eyes. It don’t matter if the creature is alive or dead. It bites you first, numbs you up so you can’t move or speak. Then wraps you in its silk, pries your eyes open with its legs and well, you know. Strange creatures. Strange indeed…” His voice trailed off as he glanced down the hole again. He looked as if an idea had just occurred to him.
 
I couldn’t move. I couldn’t speak. In fact, I haven’t been able to find my voice since earlier in the morning when Lassie wouldn’t stop barking at what I had thought were coyotes. Where was Lassie?
 
“Son, you’re making me nervous. Cat catch your tongue?” He stood up and peered at me.
 
I looked at the hole, the darkness lurking within. Yes, yes, I suppose it had. Only it hadn’t been a cat.
 
McPherson picked up his shotgun and nodded towards the hole. “Something just gives me the willies. Glad I brought this along. I got your back covered for now, boy. Why don’t you find a shady spot to relax in.”
 
I glanced at the mesquite towering above the hole. Its long thorny branches swayed in the humid breeze. I wasn’t moving any closer to that hole, even if I could.
 
“I heard ya got a problem.” Ol’ Joe stepped around me and spat. His withered skin crinkled more as he studied me. “Well, now. Let’s take a look and see what ya got.”  He stuck his pitchfork in the ground and bent over the hole.
 
 “Yeah, it’s given Sam here quite a fright. I don’t blame him myself. I saw something strange last night. Some big spidery critter.” McPherson drew up a lawn chair. “Sit down, Sam. You’re lookin’ awfully pale.”
 
I remained standing.
 
 “Here, I’ll help ya.” He gently pushed on my shoulders. I collapsed sideways into the chair. McPherson sat me upright.
 
Joe stood and pulled his pitchfork out of the earth. He walked over, bent down, and met my eyes. His face drew so close I thought he might kiss me.  I smelled tobacco and cynicism on his breath. “Son, you and McPherson are full of it. I’ve got some work to do in my garden. Them weeds are full of sin and need some flippin’.”
 
“Joe, this isn’t a joke.” McPherson glanced at me nervously. “Something’s wrong with Sam. He hasn’t spoke or moved since I found him here, staring at that hole. I need to get him some help. Rae Lynn was gonna come, but she was talkin’ to her mama and you now how women are. I need you to stay until I get back.”
 
Sunlight reflected off the tip of the pitchfork. Ol’ Joe nodded. McPherson shoved the firearm into Joe’s other hand and hurried away. It didn’t bother me. Nothing bothered me now. I felt numb and tired. So very tired. My mind drifted in dark gray hues.
 
The sound of gunfire echoed through the desert as Ol’ Joe fired into the hole two, no three times, then threw the gun aside by the mesquite. He spat tobacco at my feet.
“See, Sam? If something is creepy crawling down there, it ain’t no more. Now, I got  gardenin’ to attend too.” He picked up his pitchfork and gave me one last look. Cruelty glinted in Ol’ Joe’s eyes. “If ya don’t mind.” He turned and walked away.
 
I watched the hole. I hardly cared when I saw its spindly legs slip out. Fear and anxiety had long passed. Blissful numbness lulled my mind in its caress. A burst of white emerged. The world went dark. I couldn’t feel my arms, legs, or feet, but I knew I was being blanketed in silver, spun around and around. My thoughts fell as I heard the soft gnawing on my face…

©2009 Jodi MacArthur

Exiled in deep southern Texas, Jodi MacArthur is a Seattle author hoping to write her way back to the Pacific Northwest. In her spare time, she twitters at her beloved finches, Hitchcock and Emily, and drinks coffee - but never at the same time. Her work has been published at Six Sentences,  6sV2 Anthology, Absent Willow Review, Ray Gun Revival, Outsider Writers Collective and will be forthcoming in Harbinger*33 Anthology (Date TBA), and Yellow Mama (Oct & Dec ‘09).  Website: www.jodimacarthur.blogspot.com