The Worst Kind of Monsters

by Elias Witherow

  “Well howdy there, slick.”

  I opened my eyes and gentle sunlight lit my vision. Stunning greens and blues melted together to form breathtaking beauty and my senses filled with the peaceful, now familiar meadow before me.

  I was back.

  The dense forest encircling this pocket of paradise swayed gently in the breeze, the leaves rustling together to form a serene soundtrack to the majesty of this hidden nature.

  The grass was soft beneath me, like cool blades of emerald silk. I ran my hands through it and leaned comfortably against the tree I sat under. The pond before me was captivating in its stillness, a plate of shining silver.

  I turned and saw Russ sitting a few trees over, his blue baseball cap resting high on his head. His tan suit jacket was balled behind his head and he leaned comfortably against it.

  “I had to come back,” I said. “This place…” I trailed off, trying to find the words.

  “It’s somethin’ special, ain’t it?” Russ grinned, crossing his feet in front of him.

  “You got that right.”

  Silence passed between us and I sighed heavily, a smile filling my lips. My head emptied of worries and was filled with complete tranquility. The secluded isolation added to the calming magic of the meadow and pleasant bird songs danced between the trees.

  Again, I was filled with the desire to never leave this place. Everything was just so perfect. It made life seem unfair in comparison. Why were things so hard? Why did misfortune and approaching despair plague my every day? Why couldn’t I just stay here, away from all that, and close my eyes in peace? This was all I needed.

  “You know,” Russ said from his spot, “as much as I enjoy your company…I worry about you.”

  I snorted and looked over at him. “Oh, yeah? Why’s that?”

  Russ adjusted his baseball cap. “You know why. Don’t make me say it, slick.”

  “Can you just let me enjoy the quiet?” I asked, shutting my eyes.

  Russ grinned. “Of course, pal. Of course. But I need you to know something.”

  Before he could continue, a distant drum began to beat.

  Boom…boom…boom…

  I opened my eyes.

  Russ pointed out into the woods toward the noise. “That.”

  I shifted, trying to block out the sound. It twisted my stomach with unease.

  “What about it?” I asked softly.

  Russ stared at me under the brim of his cap. “That didn’t used to be here.”

  I nodded toward the distant drum. “That? The drum?”

  His green eyes bore into my skull. “Not just the drum…HIM.”

  I licked my lips. “Who?”

  Russ’s voice dropped to a whisper. “The Whistlin’ Man. You can tell when he’s around when the drum starts. He’s looking for you, slick. And he ain’t ever going to stop.”

  I shifted uncomfortably. “Who is he…what does he want?”

  Russ stared out into the forest. “Do you really have to ask?”

  I suddenly threw my hands up in frustration. “What are you talking about?!”

  Before he could respond, the air filled with a shrieking note, a long high whistle that bore into my head like a screaming drill. Swarms of birds erupted from the trees and took flight, escaping the sound.

  Russ jumped to his feet, fear written across his face. “You better scram, slick; it sounds like he’s close.”

  “I don’t want to!” I shouted, climbing to my feet. “I don’t care who he is, I don’t care what he wants! Anything is better than going back to…to…out there!” I finished, jabbing my finger toward the sky.

  Russ approached me as the drumbeat grew louder, another whistle slicing through the meadow like a razor blade. It was the same low note as last time, the strange melody chilling me to the bone. But despite that, the thought of leaving made me want to weep. I had only just arrived, I couldn’t leave yet; I couldn’t face what awaited me on the other side.

  “He doesn’t have to be here!” Russ said urgently, shooting a look over his shoulder. “You have to get rid of him! It wasn’t always like this!”

  “What the FUCK are you talking about!?” I cried. The drum was deafening at this point and I felt the soil beneath my feet begin to tremble.

  Russ opened his mouth to speak, but a new voice erupted from inside the forest, a horrible deep bellow of rage.

  “JAAAAAAAAAACKIE! WHERE ARE YOU, JACKIE!?”

  Another series of long whistles followed, cracking the air like a bullwhip.

  Russ’s eyes went wide and the blood drained from his face. He took a step forward and raised his hands to me.

  “GO! GOOO!”

  He shoved me hard, and I went sprawling backward—

  —and woke with a jolt inside my car.

  Nausea tossed my stomach like a rotten salad and I slammed the door open and emptied my gut onto the asphalt.

  “NO!” I screamed, wiping my face and pounding on the steering wheel. “No no no! I can’t be here! Let me go back!” The horror of being back in the waking world faced once again with my looming, life-ruining problems filled me with absolute panic.

  The night air filled with indifferent moonlight and I raised my eyes to the sky. “I can’t do this anymore! Russ! Let me come back!” I thought I could feel his presence, a tickle in the back of my head. I focused on it, begging to be swept away to the calming meadow. I didn’t care about this Whistlin’ Man, I didn’t care about what he wanted. I couldn’t face my family right now. I didn’t want to think about work or money. I just wanted to go back!

  “Help me!” I cried, slamming my fist into the dashboard. “Take me BACK!”

  I sat there for a moment, trembling, bloodshot eyes catching focus on everything, then nothing.

  I wiped my face. “You can’t do this to me,” I muttered. “You can’t make me stay here.” I checked my watch and saw that it was midnight. Last call wasn’t for another hour and a half.

  I licked my lips and ran a hand through my hair. I felt like shit. I knew I probably looked like shit, too, but that wasn’t going to stop me.

  “I’m coming back,” I growled, stepping out of my car, avoiding the puddle of vomit, “and I’m not going to let you send me away this time.”

  My legs wobbled as I carefully made my way back inside the bar. I steadied my breathing and summoned as much willpower as I could. It wasn’t easy. My throat burned and my eyes were watering. The world rocked and swayed beneath me and I gritted my teeth against it.

  I pushed the bar doors open and slowly made my way back to my stool. I motioned for the bartender and she returned to me, an eyebrow cocked. She told me she was surprised to see me back and I told her my car wasn’t working. I told her a friend was coming to give me a lift and I was just coming back in to kill some time. I spaced out my words and tried my best not to slur. I asked her if she could load me up a beer and a shot.

  She chewed her lip for a moment and I could see her thinking, my intoxicated state apparent no matter how good an actor I thought I was. I reached into my pocket and slid her two twenties, tipping her a wink.

  “For taking such good care of me tonight,” I said.

  The money shattered any moral disputes she had been fighting against, and she immediately cracked the top off a beer. She filled a shot glass and placed it in front of me, telling me to behave myself. I thanked her and assured her I would.

  When she turned away, I slammed the shot, gasping at the sudden charge of heat. Whatever edge I had lost from vomiting returned as the rum hit my system. I snatched the beer up and sucked it down, exhaling heavily as the last drops slid onto my tongue.

  I felt sick, like a soaked sponge left on the counter. I stank and my already upset stomach fought against the booze. I looked around, the room tilting and swaying, and saw there were only two other patrons. They were over in the corner not paying attention, and to my delight I saw them wave over the bartender. It looked like they knew her. She shot a quick look at me and
then went over to them.

  Heart racing, consciousness blinking, I quickly leaned forward and snatched a half-full bottle of rum from the counter. I chanced a look over my shoulder and saw that my act had gone unnoticed.

  “You can’t get rid of me,” I mumbled, tipping the bottle to my lips. “You can’t make me stay here.”

  I closed my eyes and drank.

  I didn’t stop until everything went dark.

  I gasped and opened my eyes. I was on my stomach, soft clovers tickling my face. I breathed them in and sighed, relief running through me. I got to my knees, pulling myself up, and surveyed the meadow.

  Something was wrong.

  The sun was hidden behind thick gray clouds, a blanket of dark cotton. I craned my neck and was met with nothing but silent gloom. The woods were quiet, the usual chorus of birds and bugs eerily absent. I could hear my heart hammering in my chest, a rush of beating blood in my ears.

  I looked to my left, scanning the tree line, and suddenly felt sick as my eyes focused on the scene before me, a deep fear sparking in my chest.

  The forest was ripped in half, leaving a dark corridor of splintered ruin. It looked like an immense train had exploded through the woods, obliterating everything in its path. Fractured trees and uprooted underbrush spilled out into the clearing, the remains of nature’s vicious goring.

  “What is going on?” I whispered, voice tainted with fear.

  I suddenly spotted something in the pond, floating on the surface. It bobbed slightly and as I squinted to try and make out what it was, my eyes went wide and panic foamed in my throat.

  “Oh no, no, no,” I cried, charging toward the water’s edge. I splashed into the shallows at full speed, tripping and then pulling myself up. I shoved lily pads aside and sloshed deeper, the horror before me gaining clarity.

  “RUSS!” I screamed, reaching out for his motionless body. The water was up to my waist as I grabbed at him, pulling him up from under. He was dead weight in my arms, his head rolling against my chest as I dragged him toward shore.

  “Come on, come on,” I begged, gritting my teeth, heart racing, muscles groaning. His eyes were closed and he didn’t move.

  Gasping, I finally got us onto the grass, where we collapsed in a rush of weight and water. I struggled to regain my breath as I got to my knees and flipped Russ over on his back.

  My heart sank.

  His face was a mess of cuts and dark bruises. His clothes were a tangled jumble of torn fabric and tattered cloth.

  “What happened to you!?” I cried, brushing strands of wet hair from his face. “Who did this to you!?”

  I felt like I already knew the answer.

  I shifted myself over him, fighting panic. I placed my hands over his chest and began administering CPR.

  “Please wake up,” I begged, pumping his chest. “Please, you have to wake up, don’t do this, please!”

  I leaned down and blew into his mouth, tears starting to leak from my eyes. I felt helpless, alone, and filled with overwhelming despair. Why did everything always have to go to shit? Why did I always end up making things worse? Why couldn’t I escape the never-ending stream of misfortune?

  “PLEASE!” I screamed, now beating on Russ’s chest. “PLEASE DON’T DO THIS!”

  Suddenly, in a rush of urgency, Russ’s eyes snapped open and he vomited up a great spout of pond water. He coughed and sputtered, emptying his stomach as his body convulsed.

  I leaned back on my knees, unable to believe it. Relief swept over me as I exhaled, a cackle escaping my lips.

  “Ha! You’re alive! Oh my God, you’re alive!” I cried, gripping Russ’s shoulder as he wiped his mouth and lay on his back.

  Russ kept his eyes shut, his voice terribly weak. “Hey, slick. You just can’t seem to stay away, can you?”

  “What happened to you? Why is everything different?” I asked.

  Russ tenderly touched his beaten face before answering. “He found me. He found me with you already gone. He didn’t like that.”

  “Who?” I already knew the answer.

  Boom…boom…boom…

  I jerked my head to the woods, the sound of the drum robbing my attention. No. Not now. Please, not now.

  Russ sighed, broken and defeated. “He’s coming back to finish the job. And if you’re here, he’s going to get you, too.”

  Boom…boom…boom…

  The drum was getting louder.

  I leaned down and grabbed Russ’s arm. “What does he want? Why is he doing this?”

  Russ closed one eye and looked painfully at me with the other one. “He’s not doing this, Jack. You are.”

  My body went cold and I said nothing, throat going dry.

  Suddenly, a long rising whistle rose from the forest, first high, then dipping low. The notes bounced off the dark clouds and echoed across the meadow, filling me with dread.

  Russ tried to sit up, grasping at my arm. “You can’t keep doing this,” he growled, desperation filling his voice. “You can’t keep coming here like this. He’s going to kill you!”

  My eyes lined with tears and they spilled down my face. My lips trembled and I looked down at Russ. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” I put my hands over my face, sobbing, “Jesus, what have I done?”

  “JAAAAAAAAAACKIE!”

  The voice cracked through the air like a clap of thunder and my heart tripped into my ribcage, a flutter of crippling fear spreading across my chest.

  BOOM…BOOM…BOOM…

  Another shrieking whistle, a sharp drill in my ears, boring into my skull.

  The ground shook beneath my feet and I suddenly heard a roar of exploding wood and crashing underbrush from the forest. The sound was distant but approached the meadow at a tremendous speed.

  “The Whistlin’ Man,” I whispered, my breath sour on my tongue.

  I stood up and faced the tree line. Sweat coated my spine with cold fear and I licked my lips, face pale and gaunt.

  “Don’t let him get you,” Russ said from the ground.

  Tears ran down my cheeks as the cacophony of sound rose around me in a deafening crescendo. I closed my eyes as the drum and constant whistle blasted around me. I could hear trees crashing to the earth as the Whistlin’ Man rocketed toward me from the woods. I felt helpless and terrified, a lone man against a tsunami of power and devastation.

  The Whistlin’ Man exploded from the tree line and into the meadow.

  Immediately, everything went silent.

  My heart counted the seconds against my chest. I squeezed my eyelids shut even tighter.

  I suddenly felt the presence of someone standing directly in front of me, hot breath on my face.

  “Been looking for you, Jackie,” something said, inches from my face. The voice was a low rumble like thunder in the summer.

  I kept my eyes firmly shut. My knees were shaking and I felt my bladder release in a rush of terror. My lips quivered and tears dripped down my chin.

  “Go away,” I croaked, my voice a dry rasp.

  I felt a heavy hand rest on my shoulder, followed by a low chuckle. “Go away? Ah, Jack, why would you want that? You brought me here.”

  I shook my head, squeezing my eyes shut even tighter. “Not anymore.”

  A hand gripped my chin. “Look at me. Open your eyes. Look at what you’ve created.”

  “Please,” I sobbed, spittle spraying. “Just leave me alone.”

  “Open your eyes, Jackie.”

  Weeping, I slowly pried my bloodshot eyes open and the breath rushed from my lungs in a haunting wave of horror.

  I was staring into my own face.

  The Whistlin’ Man grinned as the recognition twisted my face with shock.

  “You see?” he growled. “There ain’t nothing to be afraid of. This is just who you are.”

  I took a step back, shaking, trembling. “No…no, this isn’t who I am.”

  He chuckled and took a step closer. “Oh…yes it is, Jack.”

  I violently shook my he
ad, “No! NO! I’m a good person! I’m NOTHING like you! I’M NOTHING LIKE YOU!”

  The Whistlin’ Man suddenly stepped forward and grabbed me by the throat, his grip deadly and impossibly strong. “It’s time we finally settled this, Jackie.”

  “J-just leave me alone!” I gurgled as his grip tightened around my throat.

  He leaned into me, grinning, and squeezed darkness into my vision. “It’s over, Jack.”

  Stars swam around me and the world began to fade.

  With one last gasp, I whispered, “P-please…just let me go home.”

  Right as I was about to pass out, as blackness ate my eyes, the iron grip around my throat was removed.

  I gasped and fell to my knees, the meadow rushing back into focus. Color and clarity realigned and I coughed and sputtered, clutching my aching throat.

  I looked up in relieved confusion and my eyes went wide.

  Russ was holding the Whistlin’ Man from behind, one arm wrapped around his throat in a chokehold. He had his other arm over the Whistlin’ Man’s face with his hand shoved inside his mouth, gripping his upper jaw with commanding strength.

  Sweat stood out on Russ’s face, his eyes two coals of burning fire. His voice crackled like a blazing furnace. “HE DOESN’T NEED YOU ANYMORE! LEAVE HIM ALONE, GODDAMN IT!”

  The Whistlin’ Man growled around Russ’s hand, fury shaking him. “I AM HIM!”

  Russ’s neck muscles strained as he began to pull the Whistlin’ Man’s head backward, howling with deafening authority, “NOT…ANY…MORE!”

  Screaming with exhausted effort, Russ ripped the Whistlin’ Man’s head back between his shoulder blades in an explosion of blood and bone. I heard a sickening pop as his spine shattered, blood gushing from the now lifeless mouth.

  Gasping, Russ pulled his bloody hand from the Whistlin’ Man’s jaws and shoved the dead man to the ground. Breathing heavily, he looked at me, chest heaving.

  “You OK, slick?”

  Shock rooted me to the ground, complete disbelief freezing me where I sat.

  “Jack?”

  Crying, I got to my feet and embraced him, weeping into his chest. Russ stroked my hair and let me cry into him, his heart beating against my chest.

  “Thank you,” I wept. “I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry for doing this.”