Stage One Day Five – Scraps
This one is an oldie from the archives. a few parts of it were scavenged from the original, but it’s most redone on the fly this morning, this is about nine years old. I started it as part of a writing group that fell apart where we were going to create a shared world then I pulled it to keep for my own and submitted something else instead because I didn’t want to share the creation of this story. I’m a greedy fucktard sometimes.
About 1000 Words today….
The blood scent was still thick in the air. The killer had been here maybe an hour ago. In that much time he could be anywhere. If that bastard had gone back to human he could have hitched a ride and be out of the state by now, or if he’d gone all the way to wolf no telling how much distance he could have put in by now. Something deep in Brennan’s soul told him that the butcher was near. He looked around at the grizzly scene. Blood and body parts scattered everywhere. The coroner was going to have a hard time figuring out what belonged to whom. Even the M.E. that was going to go through this was going to have issues not losing their lunch. How do you track a beast that cold do all of this? How do you stop it? The thing that had killed these poor campers was a demonic beast without a soul.
Brennan had a hard time tracking this one. He caught a break a few nights back when a hunter claimed a werewolf killed two of his friends. The man was shaken and pale recalling the incident, Brennan was confident the man was not drunk or insane. Though the rest of the town concluded he was either or both. There was a farmer that had a couple of cows that were slaughtered in the field a couple towns over from the hunter. Word might have gotten around but the farmer and hunter were both thought to be off their rockers. Were this more populated part of the country this would have been big news, wild animal running loose. But this was the rural Midwest. Out here small towns don’t talk to outsiders about town business. Thankfully that was the nature of small towns. The beast getting national news coverage would hamper the hunt if not shut it down completely. Brennan only found out about it because the locals didn’t notice him and thought they were just talking amongst themselves.
Brennan surveyed the scene with a detached air. He learned the hard way that detaching his emotions was the only way to carry out this sacred mission. Emotions not held in check tightly enough would either earn you a grave or one for an innocent. Tracks all around the site matched up with those of a large dog or wolf. Wolves not really common in this area but there are more than a few coyotes whose paws were too small to make these tracks. But the way the campers were slaughtered was proof that this was no wild animal attack. One of the campers was impaled on a tree with the bones of one of her friends. This was no animal attack, well not the average four legged kind, this was done with intent, with purpose.
A twig snapped in the trees followed faintly by muttered curses and the sounds of jangling equipment. Brennan cocked his ear and muttered under his breath. “Great all I need is a group of young glory hound cyrptid hunters to come fuck this up.” Brennan knew he needed to get the young fools away from the scene before they endangered themselves and turned this hunt into a media circus. He slid through the shadows of the darkened wood like he was born of darkness. One of the many talents he had learned in his years of hunting monstrosities. He neared the group of young novice ghost hunters and noticed that there were two men and tow women all struggling with cameras and cases of equipment.
One of the young men stopped suddenly and looked right at the spot that Brennan was hiding. Brennan was impressed, not many would be able to have heard him, especially not a human. Brennan normally could get the drop on a werewolf’s sharp senses. The young man stared at Brennan but still couldn’t see him. “Something tells me we’re lost. The young man said without looking at the rest of the group. “It’s dark Shelley is stumbling around like a retarded ox. There is no way in hell that if there is a Bigfoot…”
“There is Max. I saw it last night. I don’t think it saw me,” the taller girl whined.
“IF there is a Bigfoot and not a frat boy in a costume come to fuck with the hicks,” Max continued. “That we’d get close enough to get a picture or video. I think we need to call it a night. It’s too dark and we’re tripping over roots and rocks, Shelley runs like a sodomized penguin as it is the last thing we need is for her to break her leg and us to have to wheel her ass around.”
“I DO NOT RUN…” the tall girl apparently Shelley started to yell.
“Yes you do.” All three of her friends said in unison.
“Shut up lets get home and get some sleep. I’d feel better about setting the cameras up in daylight better.” Max still didn’t take his eyes off Brennan’s hiding spot. The two girls turned back the way they came. The other man walked up beside Max looking in the same direction Max was. “Bro, I think we just saved our lives.” Max whispered to his friend. “I don’t know what the fuck is out there but it’s very bad mojo.”
Brennan heard enough he slipped back tot he camp site. To try to pick up on his quarry. This is going blow up. He’s baiting the media again. Of all the monsters that Brennan had hunted this was the most evil. He was the only one to get away more than once. Brennan had hunted this sick fuck for years. There were several cases open at the FBI for serial murder that all pointed back to this one sick fuck. The psycho figured himself a modern day Jack the Ripper, or perhaps more like a Moriarity to Brennan’s Sherlock. This has to end, Brennan needed to be the one to end it.
This will be continued…..