Don't Wander

Glowing Eyes and Bloody Fangs

Shortly after eight pm I was riding my bike down the long road from my house, hoping it wouldn’t take too long to get to Eden’s. I was also secretly hoping that we would somehow run into each other. That was ridiculous though, and would only cause problems for me. Still, it would be nice to see his face when he saw me at his place at this time of night. My legs had started burning before I even reached the fork at the end of my road. Doing palates every week didn’t help as much as I had hoped. How was I going to make it all the way there?

By the time I reached my destination, I was covered in sweat and all of my limbs were shaking. Not the entrance I had imagined, but it would have to do under the circumstances. I leaned my bike against a tree near the road, and cautiously approached the sleeping house. A bunch of clouds passed in front of the moon, and the night became almost pitch black. I got out my flashlight and shined it through the edge of my shirt, so that it wouldn’t be too bright.

The house was large and dingy looking, with a broken front porch. The yard was overgrown with weeds and tall grass, which hindered my ability to move quietly. In the gravel driveway were an old truck, a shabby car, and a brand-new motorcycle. It stuck out like a sore thumb in this place. I wondered whose it must be, before concluding that it didn’t really matter.

I traveled around to the back of the house and started inspecting my surroundings. There was a mangled tree close by, and a fire pit in the center of the yard. A bunch of broken bottles and crushed cans littered the grass—no, the dirt. Whereas the grass had been growing savagely out of control in the front, here there were only small patches of stubby grass growing in the back.

As the wind changed direction, I caught a whiff of something dead. Gagging, I retreated to the back porch of the house. A couple of rusty lawn chairs were stacked haphazardly on one end of the porch, and a pile of shredded clothes laid at my feet. I picked through them, and noticed that they all looked barely used, except for the long tears in the fabric, and a few small spots of blood and dirt on some. “This seems like a wonderful place to live. If all of Eden’s homes were like this one, I couldn’t possibly understand him wanting to leave,” I muttered ironically.

What I really wanted to do was explore inside the house, but I knew that was impossible. I decided to investigate whatever I had smelled earlier, so I crossed the yard in search of it. Near the line of trees marking the edge of the forest was the carcass of a mangy dog. It looked as if it had been gutted with a jagged knife. Mixed with the dirt was a pool of blackish, sticky looking blood. I had been holding my breath, which escaped as a strangled squeak at the sight of this.

From not far behind the tree line came a loud snarl, followed by several low and rumbling growls. I turned and ran as fast as I could back to my bike. As I jumped on and peddled frantically back up the road, I heard many padded steps behind me, and then a long, wailing howl. I was too frightened to look back.

Eventually, the sounds of pursuit faded, but my adrenaline kept pumping. I made it back home in half the time it took going the other direction. I leapt off my bike, not caring where it landed, and ran inside the house. I locked the door behind me and then ran to my room, sobbing. It took hours and a hot shower before my nerves calmed down and I was able to sleep. The sleep was restless, however, and it was filled with horrifying dreams of glowing eyes and sharp, bloody fangs.

. ***

The dream became a reoccurring nightmare. On my first day back to school, I was relieved to be back around people and away from home, where I was driving myself crazy thinking about that night at Eden’s. I didn’t talk to him at all in my two classes with him, and he didn’t speak to me either.

Strangely, during algebra Eden left the classroom for several minutes before returning. I wouldn’t have thought much of it, but when he left, the girl who sat in front of me said, “That’s the second time he’s left since school started. No one else has been allowed to leave for any reason. What makes him so special?” She sounded really annoyed and I simply shrugged.

Since Britt was still suspended, I hung out with Ben for the most part. At lunch, I asked him, “Hey Ben, are there wolves here in Maine?”

He swallowed what he had been chewing and said, “That’s a controversial subject. Many have reported sightings of wolves over the years, but with one exception, there isn’t any proof of their existence here. Although, there have been wolf-coyote hybrids killed here, I believe. Why do you ask?”

“What was the one exception? I’m asking because while I was suspended, I think I saw wolves in the woods behind my house,” I lied. I hadn’t had a lot of practice with lying, so I was surprised at how easily it came.

“Well way back in the 90s, I think, there was a wolf killed here. Personally, I think it’s entirely possible for there to be a local breeding population. There are lots in Canada, and it’s not like anything’s stopping them from coming over here. Where were you when you saw them?”

"I was in my yard a few nights ago because I couldn’t sleep, and I heard a growl. Then I saw these huge doglike animals, with glowing eyes. I ran inside, so I didn’t get a good look at them.” Just remembering them made me cringe internally.

“Hmm, you probably saw large coyotes. It was dark and everything, so who knows.” Then he placed a hand on my shoulder and said, “Be careful though, because either way, you could get hurt, and I wouldn’t want that.”

I smiled and replied, “Thanks, neither would I. I’ll be careful.”