My names Scott Wilson and I live in Buckinghamshire England with my wife three children and two cats. I have always liked to write but I have only taken it seriously the last few years. I have six books available on Amazon with two more due by the end of the year. I read every day and thanks to the BOOKS OF HORROR group, my shelf is never empty.
The Dead Collection https://amzn.eu/d/4n4bcJO
HEADFIRST
by
S.Wilson
Something was chasing him.
Something big.
He looked back but all he could see were the thickness of the trunks.
“I shouldn’t have come here!” he berated himself “Who hunts Bigfoot alone… and unarmed”.
He wanted to move faster, but the terrain was too heavy to run through and some of the roots were as solid as a brick.
Something big snapped and he froze, his back against a large trunk. It had sounded like a tree being broken in half. If that thing got hold of him then he was sure it had the strength to pull him to pieces.
He had stumbled across the beast, he hadn’t even been looking that hard, just enjoying the walk and the evening colours as the setting sun glimmered through the forest. Being up on the ridge, he happened to look down at the stream below and that was when he saw it.
It looked as big as a Toyota truck as it bent over, lapping up handfuls of water. Its shoulders rippled with muscle and strength, its thick knotted fur was dark and twisted, embedded with mud and leaves down its long arms.
Looking down the man froze when he realised what it was. He didn’t dare make a sound and his heartbeat boomed in his ears.
Then the beast, the monster, looked up.
The head was a ball of hair, apart from the dark red eyes, that burnt with the intensity of a volcano, and its sharp teeth as it snarled up at him.
Each tooth looked like a mountains peak as they rose out of their wet, brown surroundings.
That was when the man found his voice, and his feet.
Screaming he was able to turn and run.
That was when the monster called after him.
Its yell was as loud as a runaway train and just as hazardous.
The ferociousness of it chilled the blood in the man’s veins as he tried to outrun the pursuing monster.
Now with his back against a tree trunk he tried to keep his panting to a minimum.
He was sure the creature could hear his heartbeat and he couldn’t help thinking if the next would be his last.
It yelled again and it was close.
Within a few trees of him, he had no doubt.
He could smell it; the stink was overpowering like full bins or meat left out in the sun.
“Should I hide here or make a break for it?”
He doubted he could hide for much longer and knew he couldn’t outrun the thing; it had looked over eight feet tall and as big as a juggernaut.
Something flew past him.
It was a tree, thrown like a javelin and it stuck in the ground only yards ahead.
He couldn’t hide anymore, his nervous tension exploded and he was on his feet and running to the left, away from where he figured the monster to be, before he even knew what was happening.
It growled so loud the man’s bladder wanted to curl up and hide, causing anything it had inside to flow down his leg.
He was now back near the ridge edge and he looked down for a safe passage, but he was moving too fast and he lost his footing.
He tumbled down, headfirst, over and over, limbs were bent and broken, the pain so intense he saw stars and then darkness.
He didn’t know what time it was, or even what day, all he saw was black. One eye was swollen closed and he couldn’t feel his legs. He hurt in places he didn’t know he had and he tried to move to examine his wounds. There was a moments panic when he thought he was limbless, until he discovered that he was hanging in the air, hooked under each numb armpit.
“Where am I? how the fu—”
Something moved near him.
He began to whimper, knowing he wouldn’t be able to outrun the monster anymore.
Then he saw light as something moved. He was in a cave, its entrance now lit by the moonlight.
Something rustled again nearby and he strained his eyes to see it.
It looked like a mammoth nesting on a large pile of leaves.
It was the monster, the Bigfoot.
Only a small part was moving.
“Is it an arm?” when he finally figured out what the movement was, it nearly stopped his heart.
There was more than one of them.
His body felt broken, but he was still alive and would fight till the end.
He tried to bounce, to pull the vines that restrained him. He was able to free one arm and his spirits lifted ever so slightly.
“Thought I was dead didn’t you!” he said to himself, not daring to speak aloud, before falling to the ground.
He was sweating and fighting off the shock as he regained consciousness from the crashlanding.
He tried to crawl to the opening, headfirst, only one arm working now, the other was bent in the wrong direction at the elbow.
“Will I die here?” he hopped not, not while he could see the exit, freedom.
That was when a vice gripped him around his waist and lifted him like a toy before hooking him once more on vines.
He tried to struggle to yell but he didn’t have the strength to fight anymore.
When he saw other vines tangled with bones it became clear that he was to be used like prize game in a butcher’s window.
A small Bigfoot came to him, an infant but still over five-feet tall. It took the man’s left leg and pulled it off in one swift motion. The kneecap snapping with ease.
He couldn’t even scream as shock took over.
The beast in front of him had begun chewing the shin like we would a chicken drumstick.
Then two others approached, hunger in their eyes and through sobs the man prayed they would take his head first.