I’ve never been a fan of my backyard, and I could never place why. It’s your run of the mill suburban yard, just off the back of a townhouse, but there’s something eerie about it. When we were buying the house I didn’t notice this feeling, but as we settled in I grew more and more wary of wandering out back, especially at night. It doesn’t help that my neighbors frequently wander down a path into the woods directly behind their own townhouse.
Every night when I bring out my dog, all the critters fall silent, and I feel as though I’m being watched. All I have is the inadequate, faint glow of my porch light and a small flashlight connected to my dog’s leash to alert me to any movement nearby. There are no deadly animals in our area, so it doesn’t make sense why the animals and insects act as though there is a predator nearby.
One day my neighbor emerged from his screen porch, donning a smock, gloves, and boots, with his hair tied up, and made his way to the path he walked daily. I noted this outfit as an odd choice for wandering in the woods in 90 degree heat, and I felt the knot in my stomach tighten ever so slightly.
That night, around 2 am while I was tucked up in bed I heard the door to our bedroom creep open. “It can’t be,” I thought to myself, but I turned on the flashlight on my phone and sure enough, our door which I had secured and locked myself, was hanging ajar. I didn’t want to find out what waited for me in the shadows, and tried to stir my boyfriend from his deep sleep, but just like every day he was impossible to wake. I got out of bed and made my way to the hallway, flashlight on but obscured, knife tucked into my waistline, hoping there would be no reason to use it.
When I got to the landing there was that same eerie silence. I couldn’t even hear our air conditioner. It was like I’d been transported to a world where I was the only person who existed, but I had this overwhelming dread in the pit of my stomach and I knew that there was someone else present, and they were not my friend.
Despite searching the top floor I found no one. I made my way downstairs, and noticed a draft almost immediately. Steeling myself, I raised my flashlight to the back door and sure enough it was open, curtains framing it fluttering in the gentle summer breeze. I found myself compelled to explore further. Maybe it was because I felt empowered by being armed, or maybe it was because I was sick of feeling hunted. I pulled on my boots that sat next to the open back door and shut off my light. Walking quickly, my feet found their own way to my neighbor’s path to the woods.
I had no idea how long I had to follow this path for. Thankfully the moon was almost full, so I had enough light to follow, yet also enough shadows to conceal myself in. Every few steps my ears strained, swearing they could detect a shuffle here, a snapped branch there, hair on the back of my neck rising as I felt eyes on me, knowing someone was lying in wait out here. I no longer had control of my legs; they continued to carry me forward on their unrelenting quest to find out just what it is my neighbor has been doing out here.
As I got deeper into the woods I began to think that I was being ridiculous. Maybe I left the doors open without thinking. My neighbor was always nice enough, so why was I so suspicious of him? Despite my thoughts my legs persisted until I found a site that I never thought I’d see outside of horror movies and nightmares.
As I walked the trees thinned and made way to a clearing, where the light of the moon bore down, illuminating the scene I took in. There were torsos hanging from the trees, limbs atop stakes, and what seemed to be an altar in the middle of it all, painted with blood both old and fresh. Suddenly my legs stopped, catching up to my consciousness, understanding that they should not have carried me here. It felt as though all the hair on my body was rising, becoming stick straight, as I peered over my shoulder toward a soft sound I heard in the brush behind me.
“What are you doing here?” A voice sneered.
I couldn’t respond. I didn’t have an honest response. I didn’t know what brought me here, other than sheer idiocy.
The voice didn’t speak again, and instead, in an instant, I could feel breathing on my neck. I was frozen, too scared to turn around and confront the figure lurking behind me. They brushed my hair over one shoulder, and with one swift motion kicked me in the back, knocking me to the ground. Trying to get up, I had no choice but to look as my assailant, recognizing my neighbor, donned again in his same strange outfit, with a twisted, crazed look in his eye, as if he’d called me here himself and to his delight, I’d answered.
“Please just let me go home,” I managed to get out, knowing there was no point to my plea.
He simply shook his head and lunged at me, getting on top of me, trying to choke me.
Suddenly I remembered my knife. I reached for it, and he was so focused on the task at hand that he didn’t realize my movement was anything other than a struggle for air. I was able to free it from the holster and, despite accidentally cutting my own side in the process, was able to lunge the blade first into his back up under the ribs at an angle, and then into his neck while he recoiled. I saw his blood covered chest heaving while he looked at me as though I were a friend who had committed the ultimate betrayal, before falling to the side. I wrestled out from beneath his heavy body, and my legs took over again, carrying me the whole way home.