From The Woods by Joseph R. Doze - HTML preview

It came from the woods, as most strange things do. At night, when the town was asleep, it would creep in and slaughter livestock, destroy the crops and vanish without a trace, leaving behind no physical evidence or tracks to follow.

Cyrus Manhoof, the owner of the town mill, volunteered to sit watch overnight to slay the beast that tormented the town. After a town meeting, it was decided that Cyrus was able enough to hold himself against the creature, and it was agreed that he would take watch at Walter Reiser’s farmstead, which sat at the far east of town butted against the edge of the woods.

That night, young Manhood took his watch. Walter had just released his sheep from the barn for the springtime, and Cyrus hoped that the foul creature would prefer fresh, tender prey.

Everyone in town gathered at the church and followed Father Jonas in praying the rosary before retiring for the night. We all expected Cyrus to have slain the beast by next morning, so we all slept soundly.

The next morning, Walter Reiser rose and made a pot of coffee to take to Cyrus. As he left his house, he was shocked to find an early April snow had fallen. Strange, since we had no suggestion that we were due for snow.

Walter trekked to the eastern edge of his farmstead to check his sheep, only to find a grizzly sight; Cyrus lay dead, his throat ripped open and body eaten upon. A tossling of snow lay around his body, where Cyrus had stumbled about clinging desperately for life. Blood was splattered about, some of which had melted the snow. Ice had formed over Cyrus’ face, glazing over the horrified expression that would become his death mask. As usual, there were no tracks left by the beast and no evidence that it had been there besides the now frozen corpse of Cyrus Manhoof.

The town was devastated. If a strong young man like Cyrus Manhoof could not best the beast, what chance had we? An emergency town meeting was held, and we all debated about just how to handle the situation going forward. The debate raged far into the evening and early night with no clear conclusion. We all dispersed, some still bickering, others consoling each other, but all of us very low on morale.

The next few days were much of the same as before; livestock being killed, crops destroyed and no one daring to be out after sunset. It seemed as if the beast had us all trapped in our own houses.

A week after Cyrus’ death, a stranger came wandering into town from the east. He was met with trepidation, no one in town was all that interested in anything coming west from the damned woods. However, he quickly won us over and gave us hope.

His name was Emile Wetiko. He was a hunter and trapper coming south from the French territories in Canada on exile. Though he was a charming young man, he told us he had run afoul of a wealthy landowner in Quebec and was forced to leave.

We asked of his traveling through the woods; had he seen anything strange? He shook his head, just a few foxes and rabbits. He thought perhaps he had spotted a wolf, but it turned out to be a badger. We then informed him about the plight of our little town.

Emile took this all in ernest. He sat and pondered what we had extolled. At length, he nodded. “Yes, quite curious and terrifying. If you would like, I could track and kill this beast, if you like?”

We protested, reminding him of the fate of poor Cyrus Manhoof. Emile, however, persisted. We relented, seeing that there was no changing his mind.

Emile was put up in the house of mayor Stodt. The next afternoon, we provided Emile with as much supplies and provisions as we could part with and bid him good hunting. At late afternoon, he set off into the cursed woods, and we were all convinced that this would be the last that we saw of Emile Wetiko.

The town arose the next morning and a head count was done on the livestock, and to our surprise and elation, we found that none were missing! Still, there was no sign of Emile, and we feared that perhaps he and the beast had come face to face and done each other in. We were ecstatic to see Emile returning from the woods around late morning, trudging through the lingering April snow.

Tired, parched and hungry, Emile confessed that he had not seen any sight of this beast, but he had stumbled upon several woodland creatures that had been torn to shreds in the most unnatural manner. He marked the area and set several traps and vowed to return that night.

Though the beast was not killed, Emile was celebrated as a hero. He was taken back to the Stodt residence where he rested up for his return.

In the early evening, Emile left the Stodt house to once again venture into the dark woods. This evening he was met by four young, able-bodied men, volunteering to help him rid the town of the cursed creature. Emile happily welcomed the men into the hunting party, and they set off to hunt the beast.

Night came and went, the mysterious snow lingered still. The morning found no livestock missing, another miracle attributed to Emile. The town eagerly awaited the return of the brave hunting party, but to our dismay, we were greeted by Emile, limping alone through the snow back to town.

Doc Holstein rushed to Emile, gathering him up before calling out. “He’s bleeding badly!”

I and two others ran to aid the doctor. We took Emile to Holstein’s office where he spent the next two hours putting Emile back together.

Doc gathered the town at the hall to relay the story that Emile had told him.

The hunt was more or less fruitless until the early morning. Ronald Kleinman and Herschel Korman saw it first. A towering beast, emaciated like a rotting skeleton with tattered skin, thin lips, ragged teeth and a pointed tongue.

With great speed, the beast was upon Herschel, devouring him before Ronald had time to think. Finally gathering his wits, Ronald called for the others before firing several shots at the beast, hitting it several times with no apparent effect.

George Haas and Peter Copp reached Ronald just as the beast had torn him in twain. Rushing at the beast, the pair tried their best to damage him but were also slain by the monster.

The only one left, and fearing for the safety of the town, Emile turned to run, chased by the demon. He was saved by sunrise, when the creature scrambled for shelter.

The town gathered at the church, where the bells were rung for the dearly departed and Father Jonas gave a eulogy for the four brave men. Gathering outside the church after the Mass, the men of the town asked the priest for a prayer of protection as they were going into the woods to hunt down the devilish beast. I tried to join, but because I was so young, I was denied.

At dusk, armed with guns and lanterns, the men made for the woods. Hobbling out of the doctor’s office came Emile. Though the men pretested against it, Emile had sworn to return to the woods for the men, and so joined them.

Left with the women and children of the town and Father Jonas, we piled into the church to pray the rosary and spent the night singing hymns and reading the Gospel. By four in the morning, everyone had fallen asleep and the father had retired to the rectory.

As the sun rose, I made my way to the edge of town, trudging laboriously through the April snow. I stood watching the tree line, praying for safe returns. Then, as the sun broke the horizon, I spotted movement through the trees, and soon emerged Emile, alone once again. This time, though, he did not limp. Something struck me about the situation. I looked hard as he approached, and my heart sank; for the first time I noticed that he left no tracks in the snow.

I could not move nor speak. Emile approached, towering over me, much larger than I had remembered him being. His skin was torn and tattered, his body emaciated, his lips thin as paper and his teeth ragged and bloody.

“They did not make it, the others,” he snarled, sensing my fear. “Where are the rest, boy?”

I could not speak.

“No matter, I will find them. I always do.” He licked his lips with a pointed tongue.

Before I could move, the creature once called Emile Wetiko was upon me. The last thought I had before the eternal darkness was that strange things always come from the woods.