Tis the third day, dear reader. Have you been enjoying my spooky tales so far? Halloween is coming up so hopefully you have some exciting plans for the spookiest of holidays. I’ll be tabling at a convention, so not sure what my plan is for that.

One cool thing – my podcast cohost made a found footage film with his wife for Halloween. You can check it out here. I love that. I feel like more people should do cool stuff like that. Give it a watch and comment!

Now onwards. Today’s prompt is from my friend from Pseudopod, Alex Hofelich. He and I share a mutual love of Mothman, which should come as no surprise that his prompt for me is: Mothman's badonk.

Our greed took the light from us and plunged our world into an endless night of ash and cold.

Wrapped in what rags I could find, I pushed against the wind, through trees as sharp as blades. Even through my rags, I could taste the sour ash – sins of generations past that still cursed us.

Behind me, our leaning house was swallowed in the forever night. He was back there, lungs rotting from darkcough. It could be weeks, or days, but he would die if I didn’t find tinea weed in time. If I could even find it at all.

Through the dark wood, whose branches creaked and cracked like ancient bones. A lank quadraped followed, slinking through the ash and weed. It could have been a mutated wolf or even a deer. It didn’t matter. In this new world, we were all slaves to the night.

When I grew tired, thighs aching from dragging my legs through the deep ash, I climbed a tree and tied myself to its ragged trunk. Pulling my arms in through my sleeves, I huddled into my jacket and rags. I could smell myself, but my musk was better than the acrid air around me.

Somewhere below me, something growled.

I plucked some dried meat from an inner pocket and slipped it between my lips, chewing slowly. Favouring my right jaw, where the teeth wiggled and gums bled more freely. Eventually I feel asleep, meat half chewed in my cheek.

#

Legends say it can be found deep in the wood, near where our greedy ancestors had sliced into the valleys and bedrock. That’s where I went.

Though I wasn’t sure if I was striving to find it or just to stay away from home so I wouldn’t have to watch him slowly die.

I didn’t know if I was a saviour or a coward.

The beast had circled my tree while I slept. I saw its circuit in the ash. I shimmied down and began my march again.

On this lonely journey, I couldn’t keep my thoughts blank. One ear and eye open for the predator that follows behind, my mind whirled. It followed a familiar circuit, the same one since I was a child.

Resentment to my parents, who had children despite everything. I didn’t ask to be born into this world, to be born to suffer, to despair. He’s the same way. He wants to have kids. Even now, spitting up bits of lung, he brought it up before I left. Begged me not to go, to think of the future. If he dies, I’d be bringing up the child alone. It didn’t matter to him. He didn’t even consider how hard it would be for me. All that mattered was the idea that a part of him would be carried forward.

I left anyway. If I had to suffer in this world, I would try my best to keep him here too.

#

The land sloped downward. That’s when it attacked. When it had the high ground.

I heard it growl. I turned, too late, and it was on me, slobbering jaws snapping at my throat. I gripped its fur with two white knuckled fists, holding it just barely at bay.

Dozens of milk-white eyes swirled in sunken sockets, blind, it had to have tracked me by sound and smell alone. Didn’t matter.

My third arm, the one that sat in the middle of sternum, darted out from my jacket. It held the knife I always kept ready. I buried the blade deep into its throat.

It howled, trying to pull away. I let its momentum roll us over, until I was on top. Pinning it down.

I sliced it chin to groin, let its organs spill steaming to be coated by the acidic ash.

I stood, straddling it, reaching into its body. I harvested the organs that seemed the least riddled with boils and worms, slipping the meat into my oiled pouches, tying them tight until I could cook them later.

I left the rest for whatever else was starving in these woods.

#

I’d found myself in a valley, where a river used to be. Back when rivers were above ground. Here, the land was partially protected by hills and thicker trees so that the ash was less.

A relic of the past hung over the dusty riverbed like a skeletal cowl. A shattered bridge, its metal beams curled and rusting. I took shelter beneath it, away from any eyes that could be watching.

I cleared an area, made a pile from some petrified wood, and started myself a fire to cook the meat I’d been so lucky to get.

I sensed it before I saw it. The hair on the back of my three arms rose. I looked up.

It perched on the bridge above me, towering. Blacker than the dark sky. And in the blackest abyss, glowed two crimson eyes. Massive antenna rose over a body not much more human than mine, covered in a dark thick fur.

My mouth instantly dried up, I scooted back, jagged metal digging into my spine. I knew I couldn’t hide from it. It saw beyond the physical. It saw beyond all. I could feel it in the deepest part of my brain.

It spread its wings, blotting out more sky, and it descended gracefully, landing delicately on two taloned feet. It stood across my fire from me. I gripped my knife with a sweaty hand knowing it would do me no good.

Tucking its wings back against its body, it stared.

I then knew. Tinea weed wasn’t a plant at all.

It was a monster.

Its stare trapped me. Then the pressure shifted and I realized it wasn’t looking at me anymore. It was staring at the fire.

Slowly, painfully slow, I reached forward and pulled a hunk of meat from a steaming stone, singing my fingers. I tossed it.

The giant caught it with three fingered paws. It turned from me, launching itself to perch on a nearby stone. Hunched over the meat. Eating.

I stood, as slowly as I had reached for the meat. I crept forward. Its generous haunches were covered in the dark fur that caught the firelight so softly. I reached out and pinched a bit in my fingers, pulling until the prize came free.

What I now held was a hybrid of feather and fur, covered in a fine coating of dust or ash. I slipped it between my lips, unable to help myself. I chewed, swallowed. I don’t know what I expected.

Stepping back, away from it, I probed my body, tongued my teeth.

My gums were firm. The taste of copper only an afterthought.

My teeth weren’t loose.

My joints felt refreshed.

This was it. The cure.

The chewing stopped and it turned, eyes blazing over a shoulder.

I tossed it another hunk of meat.

I could grab more fur. I could make the long trek home. I could cure him, submit to him, bear his children.

Or I could follow this dark harbinger. I could hunt for it. It could keep me well in this wasteland for as long as it found me useful, its crimson eyes a beacon in the night.

The choice wasn’t really a choice.

I threw it the last bit of meat I had.

I wasn’t going back. Ever again. The only way I would go was forward.

The End 

What did you think? I had a lot of fun with it, but you know I am more than happy to write a Mothman story anyday.

See you tomorrow!

x PLM