Skip to main content

Wants Us Gone

I watched it come into my cabin as if it were a long time family friend I hadn’t seen in years. The door opened, there it stood, and I said “Hey! There he is!” as if the thing that stood a head taller than me with long shaggy hair and bulging eyes in my doorway was a sight for my sore eyes, like I was expecting him. Like it was welcome in the cabin my wife and I were staying in.

“I want you gone.” he told me and my wife and I wasted no time in laughing at the joke. My wife smiled warmly and welcomed it in, and I turned to get our guest a drink from the fridge. I was reading off options when my wife entered the kitchen and asked me who I was talking to. I  sighed and reminded her that she had requested a drink and that I was reading her the options.

Having seemingly forgot, she smiled and asked for one of the knock-off brands of soda we had, not caring which, and took it into the living room. The Olympic Mountains here in Washington didn’t have much in the way of cable service, and our Wi-Fi service was practically nothing. So we took our spot in the chairs beside the fire and began to read again as we had before she had asked for a drink.

The creature approached us, coming from behind us suddenly. “Hey buddy” I said with a smile.

“I want you gone.” he replied causing me to raise an eyebrow at the return of the previous joke.

“You had a long trip, were kind of tired ourselves. Why don’t we all go to bed and we can get a fresh start tomorrow?” The creature said nothing and simply stalked away. I knew that something was wrong, I could see this creature with it’s wretched body with shaggy haired legs and cloven feet, backing away slowly towards the stairs up towards the bedrooms eyes unblinking on us.

Yet he was a trusted friend, my brain told me, and for some reason, it was true, despite what was really there. I glanced at my book, determined to save my place before figuring out what was going on. As I looked at the book and picked up where I left off it was as everything had gone to back to normal.

My wife finished her soda, and the chapter she had been reading. She closed the book and took the soda can to the kitchen. After that she bade me good night. I gave her a kiss and went back to my book, intent on getting another chapter finished. She went upstairs and I continued to read, the flames crackling low, it would soon burn down to embers, and put itself out.

I finished the chapter I was on and felt like I didn’t have the strength to keep my eyes open. I closed my book, made sure the fire was tended too, and head upstairs. I got into bed with my wife who laid very still and quiet. She must have exhausted herself, the poor thing, she was usually responsive to me coming to bed. I curled up beside her and threw an arm around her, too warm to get under the covers yet.

My hand landed in something wet and sticky. I frowned and asked my wife what she might have spilled. That’s when she began to shake, and I could hear her whimper. “What’s wrong?” I ask, moving to the side of the bed so I could roll her over gently. What I saw coupled with her response will haunt me for the rest of my days.

“H-h-he wants us g-gone.” she spoke, she had a long gash from her sternum down to just past her liver, it was deep, and blood poured out and over the sides of her body like a cup that overflowed under a running sink. I screamed and told her to stop speaking. I grabbed my pillow and placed it against the wound, grabbing my cellphone to call 9-1-1. However, even if I was to drive and meet them half way it would be an hour before we’d meet each other, she’d already lost so much blood... she would never make it.

As I send the call I notice movement in the corner of my eye. In the doorway was the horrible creature. Some kind of hybrid between a man and a goat. It said nothing, its hands were wet in my wife's blood. I began to shake with rage, I no longer saw him as a friend from the past, I saw it for what it was.

“He wants us gone.” sputtered my wife as she grabbed my hand forcefully, forcing words out as I try to shush her. “H-He wants us- us- us- gone.” She barks out the last word as her hand goes limp, her eyes roll in the back of her head.

“No!” I yell looking up angrily. Ready to leap across the room at the Goatman only to find an empty doorway where it had once stood. I look around the room to make sure it hadn’t entered and when I was satisfied we were alone I glanced up at the doorway once more, until a voice called out from the other side of my phone.

“Hello! My wife, she’s been stabbed! I need an ambulance at--” I cut my sentence short and listened to the strange audible breathing on the other side of the line before a horrible voice spoke.

“I want you gone!” it said.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

The Ghosts of Fort Simcoe Job Corp

I was nineteen when I first set foot at Fort Simcoe Job Corps. I was ushered into the dorm I would be spending the next seven months in, and was corralled quickly into a dorm room with several other boys who took one look at me and gave me my nickname. “We got a Lurch!” they cried. I was six foot eight inches tall at the time and towered over everyone. I smiled, this wasn’t exactly what I was expecting but it was a nice sentiment to someone in a completely new location. It was already near ten o’clock and I had been on the road since seven that morning, needless to say, I was tired. I got settled and after a string of questions about myself, we all finally went to bed around midnight. It was only 5 hours later and I woke up to everyone moving around. Apparently, we were to be up, dressed, and ready. Breakfast was in the cafeteria around 6:30 and we had to be back in our dorm at 7:30 for roll call. It was during breakfast I had been asked if the ghosts had messed with me. Apparentl...

I'm Not Scared of You

There’s a monster under my bed. It used to live in my closet, making clacking noises and calling my name, but last night I heard it moving, and now, tonight,  there’s a quiet chuckle coming from under my bed. This happens a lot. Every place I have ever lived has had a monster in my closet, under my bed, at the top of the stairs. I know how to deal with them though, I just have to remember what my mom always told me when I was a kid. I remember. I was seven, maybe eight, and I was scared of a monster under my bed. It only came out at night when the light was off, but it was as real as the bed I slept on. I was sure of it. My mom and dad were tired of it, and one night, after calling to them for the third or fourth time, my mom taught me a little saying that will make the monsters go away. To my surprise, it worked, and has worked every time. “I’m not scared of you.” I said, laying in my bed, covers pulled up to my chin. “I’m not scared of you.” I say again, slowly sittin...