Frederick had been hunting for woodchuck that evening, unsuccessfully. The sun was nearly gone, and the shadows had started to stretch long and thin across the ground. Even though he was empty-handed, it was time to head home.
Suddenly, he heard a noise. It sounded like a high-pitched jabbering, much like that of a tape recorder running at exaggerated speed. Then he realized he was hearing a voice... or at least words.
Ok. He didn't actually hear these words. - at least not in the way voices are supposed to be heard. He felt the words coming to him. As if they were coming from his own mind.
You need not fear me. I wish to communicate. I come as a friend.
The words came fast and smooth against the sounds of nature. Almost mistakable, but still, definitely there. The voice sounded like something was trying to mimic human speech but it was missing something. Maybe the rhythm? Still the words resonated.
We know of you all. I come in peace. I need your help.
The woods around him remained perfectly still. There was no movement in the trees, no shape stepping out from the shadows. Just a sudden mental intrusion, like a signal cutting through static, dropping directly into the mind of Frederick as he stood beneath the maple trees on the edge of his father’s property in Rivesville, West Virginia.
Puzzled, and slightly disoriented, he felt sweat building on his brow. He reached for his handkerchief and that’s when the pain hit. It was sharp and sudden.
At first, he thought it was a briar - a wild thorn catching his wrist. But when he pulled his arm back, whatever had him didn’t let go. It tightened.
And then he looked down. Wrapped around his wrist was something that shouldn’t exist. A thin, flexible appendage - green, almost plant-like - no thicker than a coin. At the end of it was a hand. But not a human hand. It wasn't anything close. But there was no other word for what he was looking at.
On the hand, there were three long fingers. They appeared to have needle-like tips where finger prints would normally be. And if that were't frightening enough, it also had suction cups.
It moved with intention. The suction cups took hold and gripped hard. And then the needles pierced. Everything was happening very fast.
Frederick heard it before he fully understood it - a faint, wet pulling sound. Horrifically, he realized his blood was being drawn.
Panicked, he turned. What he saw standing behind him didn’t belong in the woods of West Virginia - or anywhere else on this planet.
It stood upright, but barely resembled a man. The face carried just enough familiarity to be confusing. It had slanted yellow eyes, pointed ears, and features that hinted at humanity, but twisted away from it at every angle.
The body was worse. This creature wasn't flesh and bone. It stood tall like a stalk - green, thin, vertical, and unnatural - like something grown rather than born.
Frederick stood and watched in terror. He struggled to understand what was unfolding around him... to what he was seeing... to what this creature was doing to him - This creature wasn't a product of the classic horror films, and most certainly, this creature didn't belong in West Virginia. Yet, there it was harvesting blood like a giant mosquito. To Frederick, nothing was making sense.
Then, it got even weirder. Suddenly, the creature's eyes started to change. Yellow turned to red. The eyes began to spin. Orange rings spiraled outward from the creature's eye sockets, turning slowly at first, then faster - then too fast to follow. This actually WAS like those scenes from the sci-fi classics. Spinning, hypnotizing eyes.
And just like that… the pain stopped.
It was replaced with nothing. There was no fear and no panic. There was no resistance. For the first time in several seconds, Frederick felt a calmness.
He stood frozen, held in place not by fear - but by the force of this creature's hand. It quieted everything inside him.
The “transfusion,” as he would later call it, didn’t last long. Maybe a minute. "But it felt like something was being taken, and then it ended."
The grip released and the thing turned and sprung away.
The gait didn't resemble that of an animal, but not like a man, either. In fact, "gait" is probably not the correct word. The creature launched itself away. One leap, then another. It covered distances no living thing should be able to, twenty-five feet at a time. It cleared a five-foot fence like it wasn't there. And just two or three seconds later, it was gone, disappearing into the trees at the crest of the hill.
Almost immediately, the pain came back to Frederick's hand. Again it was sharp. There was no doubting what had just occurred. The pain provided proof that this moment was real. Honestly, Frederick was having his doubts.
He stood there, staring into the woods where the thing had vanished, trying to convince himself that it hadn’t actually happened. But the pain and marks on his hand said otherwise.
Suddenly he heard a low hum. Then a rising wine, as if whatever it was that he was listening to was gaining propulsion. He imagined something mechanical, like an engine spinning in the dark. Later he said it sounded like something lifting off.
Frederick made it home. He cleaned the wound and wrapped it. Then, for many years, he tried to pretend this occurrence never happened.
Because what do you tell people after something like that? That something in the woods spoke directly into your mind? That it asked for help? Then it took your blood?
Though the wound convinced him he was sane and had actually expereienced the horror, he doubted anybody would believe him. So anybody who asked, he told them it was a scratch from a briar. He never sought the care of a doctor, for fear of disclosure.
Somewhere outside Rivesville, in the hills and trees where the light fades quickly, something seized an opportunity that night. Frederick couldn’t shake the bitter irony - he’d gone out hunting and returned empty-handed, only to find himself the one being preyed upon. His rifle hadn’t drawn blood, but the marks on his hand told their own story. Somewhere along that dark stretch of land, the hunter became the game.
Source: Humanoid Encounters 1965-1969 by Albert S. Rosales, Gray Barker
Now Playing: "Vampire Blues" - Neil Young
No comments:
Post a Comment