My Sister And I: A dark, violent, gripping and twisted tale of horrifying terror in the Scottish Highlands.

by Sean-Paul Thomas

  In no time at all, the whole tent began bobbing from side to side with more repetitive movements. We even began to hear the faintest sounds of grunts and groans, but none of us could put our finger on what might be happening inside that could cause such a bizarre scene.

  Perhaps, someone struggling to put their tent up in the correct manner from the inside out, I hazarded a guess.

  My sister thought that a random bear had trapped itself inside and was now eating its way through the unlucky camper, but I didn’t think we still had bears roaming around the Scottish countryside. In school, our history teacher Mr Brown had told us that the last bears and wolves had died out centuries ago in Scotland. But my sister was adamant that one or two still secretly patrolled and inhabited the more remote parts of the Highlands.

  Suddenly, our questions were answered all at once as two heads burst their way through the half-zipped doorway.

  Their faces looked flush red and exhausted, but still they grunted and groaned, like they were wrestling furiously with each other just to see which one of them would get to stay on top of the other.

  My sister and I stared at each other in shock yet slightly bemused. We didn't know which way to look or what to indeed make of the whole bizarre scene.

  The two heads then swiftly turned into two naked upper bodies, slowly forcing their way out of the tent as they thrust, grunted, huffed puffed and groaned, louder and wilder, yet without a care in the world for anyone or anything outside that might be watching them.

  I thought it was a man and a woman at first, but then my sister spat in disgust when she saw that both the naked bodies had boobs. By then I was totally confused as to what the hell was happening over there in that tent.

  Soon, the grunts, cries, and howling moans of ecstasy climaxed into one final thrust of both hips and the two naked adult women collapsed in a joyful heap right into each other’s arms.

  We continued watching the women in a curious silence as they chatted, laughed and whispered sweetly to each other. We were too far away to understand anything they were saying and when they finally pried themselves apart, they stood up onto their feet, butt naked and totally exposed for all the world to see, yet didn't seem to care one single jot.

  I secretly enjoyed and admired their bravado demeanours already.

  My sister, on the other hand, was already plotting a way to banish them from our turf and out of our lives for good.

  We waited a little while longer until both women wandered on down to the loch’s shore to clean themselves up after their sweaty wrestling antics. They seemed to be in good spirits as they waded into the cool, clear calm waters, hand in hand.

  I watched in fascination as they cleaned each other and splashed water on one another like it was the most natural thing in the whole wide world. They kissed passionately too, every now and again, before going off for a swim around the peaceful loch.

  When they looked to be a good, safe distance away and it seemed as if it might take them a good few minutes to swim back to the shore, we finally snuck down towards their tent.

  My sister instructed me to gather up as much of their inexpensive supplies and belongings as I could possibly carry, from bags of nuts, crisps, bread and peanut butter, even a bottle of vodka. We found a lighter, too, along with a packet of cigarettes. We never touched their mobile phones or wallets though.

  By the time the two women had stopped gallivanting around in the water and finally noticed the black smoke and fumes pouring out from their tent, it was too late for them to do anything about it. My sister and I had long since disappeared, of course, just like the two women’s up-in-smoke tent and remaining belongings.

  Back at our own camp, we dropped off everything that we’d taken from the two women, minus the snacking of a whole jar of peanut butter along the way.

  When we ventured back out to the Loch an hour later, the strange naked women had packed up whatever belongings remained from their burnt down campsite, which I can't imagine could have been very much, and fled.

  Did they even manage to salvage any clothes? I couldn’t help but guiltily think. All that remained was a light smoke and the smouldering ashes of their humble campsite.

  I felt a little bit bad for them. They had voluntarily embarked into the great outdoors to enjoy themselves and have some fun and peaceful times alone underneath the stars, until my sister and I had mischievously come along and destroyed their relaxing habitat like a sledge hammer to a baby deer’s head.

  My sister jumped for sheer joy and high fived me half a dozen times, which I played along with just to keep on her good side. We were all alone again and had our very own mile wide swimming pool to run amok in. Immediately we stripped off our clothes faster than you could say hallelujah and raced down to the water’s edge. We dived straight into the cold fresh water and screamed out with an exhilarated joy when we rose up again.

  For a good hour we swam, drank, wrestled (proper wrestled, not like the two strange groaning women), and dived around the crystal-clear loch like there was no tomorrow and we were the only other two people left in the world, and not even our father, who I'm sure was watching somewhere, could ruin the moment.

  Well, at least that was my fantasy.

  We even talked about moving our own camp a bit closer to the loch. But my sister ruled against it in the end. She said we would be more exposed by the water, especially if anymore strange camping folk or families decided to hike or camp nearby, which was, of course, when all the annoying questions would start: How old are you girls? What are you girls doing out here all by yourselves? Where are your parents? Come with us while we phone the police!

  Father always told us to just turn and run like the wind if we ever encountered such inquiries while out and about on our own, but only if we didn't know the people asking the questions. “Run for the nearest trees, then make your way fuckin’ home,” he’d always said.

  When we'd finished playing around in the loch, we laid ourselves down upon a secluded part of the shore, hidden away from any prying eyes by the long bushy grass all around.

  For about an hour we let the sun dry and tan our skins. When we were mostly dry again, all except for our long jet-black hair, we headed back to our base and munched up the rest of the food that we'd 'acquired' from the women, which wasn't a great deal to be honest, just a lot of dried cereal, some fruit, packets of nuts, and crisps. We downed it all in no time. Well, all except for those cigarettes and alcohol.

  We vowed to return to the loch a few hours before sunset and try to catch some fish for dinner using the plastic bottles we'd gathered from around the woods.

  We could make bottle traps to catch smaller fish in or even make a small fishing line with our boot laces and left-over string from my sister’s snare traps. We'd found some old coat hangers too, so we could make a hook to tie to the end with some insects speared onto it as bait. Maybe we’d even be able to catch some bigger fish to feed our bellies.

  Around midday we went exploring again, this time to the south. We stumbled upon a large beehive inside an old dead tree stump. We'd seen our father do this a few times before. Smoke the bees out so we could steal their honey.

  We gathered as much dry wood as we could possibly find and placed it up against the tree where the bees had nested. We got stung a few times too, of course, whenever we wandered too close to the hole where the hive was embedded, but we knew it would all be worth it in the end.

  Using a bunch of long dry grass as kindle, we lit it up with our newly acquired lighter. Within minutes, fire and smoke engulfed the entire bottom half of the tree.

  Some of the bees were already evacuating for their lives, but not enough for my sister’s liking. So, she grabbed one of the burning logs and shoved it right into the hive’s opening. That seemed to do the trick and very soon hundreds upon hundreds of confused little bees were fleeing for their lives in every possible direction.

  I kept my distance and watched as my brave and unphased sister shoved her arm int
o the burning hole and yanked out the entire bees’ nest. We took it away from the tree and smashed it to smithereens.

  We then gathered up all the honey and wax inside and stashed them into one of our plastic carrier bags. It would serve us well as a tasty dinner desert treat for later that night.

  We ended up back at the loch again with a few hours to spare before sun down. We tried our best to catch some fish using our bottle traps and our make-shift hooks but didn't come close to catching anything. I think our coat hanger hooks were a tad too big for the mouths of the fish in this loch.

  We left the bottle traps in place underneath the water instead, weighing them down with rocks. You just never knew what might lurk into them during the night and provide us with a nice, tasty breakfast snack.

  That night we sat around the fire again and munched away on another two rabbits that my sister had caught in her snares. By the time we'd chewed up all the honey and beeswax too our little bellies were full.

  After our meal my sister lit up one of the cigarettes and smoked it. She did this without even coughing anymore. She'd been smoking on and off for a while now. Since we were around eight years old, I think. She'd stolen her first packet of fags from the caretaker’s office at school then pretty much forced our entire class to take a puff after she’d lit one during lunch break.

  You'd have thought my father, who wasn’t a smoker, would be furious as hell at her antics. But as long as she didn't buy them with her own money or smoke them anywhere near the house, he seemed surprisingly fine with it. Like I said, it was amazing what my sister could get away with when it came to my father.

  Back in the forest outside our shelter I declined to have anything to do with the smokes. I absolutely loathed the disgusting taste in my mouth and the foul, lingering smell on my clothes with a passion. I’d tried it once before of course, that time back at school when everyone else was forced to have a go, but once was enough for me.

  My sister cracked open the vodka next and took a long, hard swig from the bottle. My father did like a drink or two every now and again, so it was no surprise that at least one of his little girls had taken up his favourite habit.

  I didn't mind the alcohol though, especially when we were camping out on the cold dark nights. It always warmed me up while making me a little bit more relaxed. It also gave me a cracking good sleep, just so long as I didn't take too many sips or else it would be a cracking great headache in the morning too.

  Again, my father didn't care what we did while out on our wild adventures. Whatever we found, gathered, or acquired out in the wilderness, we were free to do with and make use of, in any way we pleased or saw fit.

  Chapter 4

  The first thing we did when we awoke the next morning was run as fast as we could all the way back up to the loch. To my sister's sheer delight there were no other new campers hanging around and when we dived into the refreshing water to check our traps, we found that we'd caught a couple of little breakfast snacks, too, to our delighted surprise and joy.

  After we'd washed, swam, and dried ourselves down on the edge of the loch we made our way back to our hidden campsite again. Once there we speared our fish on little sticks and roasted them on the fire.

  After we'd eaten every single last piece of their delicious goodness, we decided to go for another wander through the woods. This time to the east side of the forest. Somewhere we had never ventured too before.

  On the verge of a small dipping valley, still within the perimeter of the forest, we came across another small tent, sitting way down in the belly of the tree filled valley.

  We crouched down low and kept a keen eye out for any movement. After nearly an hour, nothing out of the ordinary happened or moved, so we decided to sneak a little further down the valley and take a better look.

  Either the camper (or campers) were still asleep inside or, like us, they were out for a wander too in amongst the vast maze of trees and valleys.

  I hoped for the latter.

  Again, we watched the tent for any sign of movement for at least another ten minutes. I started to get a real bad nervous feeling in the pit of my tummy. I told my sister that we should just leave this place and go look somewhere else for our kicks and giggles, since this was to be our last full day out in the wild, fending for ourselves.

  But that curious and magnetic dark pulling force from within my sister got the better of her once more and she refused to go anywhere until she knew, at the very least, what the hell was inside that damn tent.

  Within moments of our argument, she’d moved closer towards another tree only a dozen yards away from the quiet campsite. She had a couple of small rocks in her hand and threw one, smack bang into the side of the tent.

  We both swiftly hid behind our trees. I waited for the sound of some enraged person to come howling out from within before bursting through the tent and out into the open, ready to throttle the culprits who’d damaged their property, but that sight nor sound never came.

  My sister smiled and winked straight at me. Then she threw all of the small rocks and stones she was holding, all at once, bombarding the entire side of the tent in a shower of hard and violent attacks.

  No one yelled or came outside. Nothing moved from within either. My sister took that as her queue to approach and investigate further. I duly followed but kept my distance of only a few trees behind her at all times.

  She stood outside the zipped-up doorway. Fearlessly, she leaned in towards the zipper and gently slid the zip all the way down. The whole, entire time I kept imagining some crazy monster inside, perhaps even my father, who could suddenly yank my sister into the darkness to do unspeakable acts of bloody violence and terror to her body.

  My sister stuck her head further into the opened doorway. She hesitated for a moment before disappearing inside altogether.

  I stood absolutely still, safe behind my tree yet frozen in a panic of fear of what she might find in there. When my sister failed to re-emerge after more than a minute, maybe even two, even failing to make any damn sound or movement from inside for that matter, I became very scared and anxious for her safety.

  I swallowed my fear and called out her name. She never replied and the tent remained absolutely and eerily still. I took a deep breath and bit my lower lip hard. I'd have to go over there and investigate for myself. Damn. I inhaled deeply, before slowly but surely moving one foot in front of the other, my heart beating like a carnival drum.

  I approached the tent, peeled back the flap of the door and peered inside.

  To my blatant surprise I couldn't see anyone in there at all. Nothing and no one. What the hell? I couldn't believe it. Just some big old dark green rucksack along with some scattered camping materials, tins of food, bottles of water, and a big cosy old sleeping bag.

  I called my sister’s name again. Where the hell could she be? Where the bloody hell could she have gone too, now?

  I stepped all the way inside with my heart firmly planted at the roof of my mouth.

  Suddenly, my sister pounced up at me from underneath the bulky old sleeping bag. She roared like a bear, almost frightening the morning breakfast right out of me. I screamed in shock and fell off balance. I tried to stop myself from toppling over but couldn't prevent myself from falling hard, right onto the side of the tent, piercing myself all the way through the material and ripping right through it all together.

  My sister fell back onto the comfy sleeping bag and rolled around from side to side, belly-laughing hysterically as I landed on the ground of the dirty forest floor outside. I cursed her name over and over, then called her a few other nasty things too that I wasn't particularly proud of in the moment, but just made her erupt with laughter even more.

  Then another sound bellowed out from the other side of the clearing, just beyond the thick row of trees on the valley floor. A new foreign sound made by neither me or my sister.

  “What the fuck are you doing to my bloody tent?”

  It was that distant but angry v
oice that finally made my sister shut the hell up and sit up more alert than I’d ever seen her before.

  I glanced over to my left and in the direction where I'd heard the strong, angry male voice coming from. Through the trees I could just about see a tall, well-built man, much larger than my father and wearing jeans, a thick jacket, and a woolly hat. He started running towards me.

  “HEY. What the hell are you doing to my tent? That's my bloody tent, you little fucking shit!”

  I glanced at my sister through the huge ripped hole. She glanced back at me and yelled run, or at least that’s what I think she said – Perhaps she just mouthed it. Everything happened so fast. So that's exactly what I did. I clambered onto my feet and ran back up the steep forest hill, fast as I could, back the way I'd came.

  When I'd made it at least half way up, I took a quick peek back just to check where my sister was at more than anything and how far she might be behind. My heart skipped two beats though when she wasn't anywhere to be seen. The man was though. And he was climbing up the steep slope like a raging bulldog out of hell right after me.

  Either my sister was still hiding in the tent and the man hadn't seen or heard her, or, she'd ran in the opposite direction, making the crazed man choose. Me or her. One or the other. Either way, the enraged man was chasing hard after me.

  I ran as fast as my little legs would carry me. I'd almost made it to the very top of the wooded valley too when the crazy, angry man, scrambling ever closer towards me, took a wild dive and grabbed a firm hold of my left ankle. I fell to the ground with an unhealthy thud, face first and smacking my forehead hard against the bottom of a tree trunk directly in front of me.

  The angry man didn't care too much about my wellbeing though. He climbed furiously right on top of my tiny body and turned me harshly onto my back so that we were finally eye to eye, his snarling face inches from mine.