I work for BBC News UK. I found a disturbing video tape which shook me.
I’ll transcribe it below.
A man named Andre Granger made an opening statement:
‘My Brother Was Murdered In The Himalayan Mountains. It was my fault.’
Then he continued.
‘I can’t be restrained under the Mental Health Act, because I’m not crazy. I need to get it off my chest, but I can’t do it for free, not for something like this, even in my situation. And I certainly don’t need to speak to the police, there really is no need. I killed my brother. Killed him in cold blood.’
A sinister blackness enveloped the second city. There was a late summer downpour, and it washed the sins of mankind, but not Granger. Each droplet boomeranged away from him, as he walked to the entrance of the towering cube.
Woods had to fit Granger into his busy schedule at the BBC Media HQ, on Level 7 of the Mailbox. He took out his outdated iPhone and pressed record in the voice memos application.
Granger sat with his back arched in the chair, his hands crossed in his lap and his fingers oscillated like pendulums. He stared intently into his palms, as if he was replaying the scene of his favourite horror movie.
‘So you killed him, or-’
‘Not exactly.’ He unglued his hands and rocked back abruptly. ‘I caused it, I killed Jordi, and you need to hear the truth, and I…I need to tell you.’
Granger looked weathered, even for a man his age. His eyes seemed desperate, and the shedding of his silvery hair summoned a tale of depression.
‘What is there to tell? It’s all in the papers…he was widely believed to have been murdered, by his servant at home in the Kalash valley.’
News Network International
September 06, 2001 (NNI), CHITRAL
Dr Jordi Granger Killed in Pakistan
A respected zoologist searching for the “Snowman” (called Barmanou or the Junglee / Wild-Man in Pakistan) was repeatedly stabbed to death by his local servant. The accused escaped after committing the crime. Insider reports detail a British citizen, Dr Jordi Granger, lived in a hut in the Kalash Valley with his servant. Dr Granger often trekked in the mountains of Chitral and neighbouring regions. Shaheen-Ul-Haq, a local, reported to the police station that Dr Granger was found in his bedroom with a slit in his throat.
‘Bollocks. There was a cover up, you know it all don’t add up, what cause did his servant have after all those years up there?’
‘Maybe he was waiting for the perfect moment-’
Granger clenched his fists and slammed them on the chair’s armrest.
‘This is lazy journalism; you may as well tell me to get lost you smug parrot.’
Granger knew Woods had to deal with some rather interesting personalities, which came with the territory. The groundwork rarely paid dividends at the BBC. When he contacted Woods from their corporate website, he was probably giving him the numbers for the next lotto, a breakthrough. What could possibly go wrong? He had dealt with loonies before, but this loony might just be a walking ATM machine for his career.
‘Sorry, please continue. You mentioned, this couldn’t be done for free and how you need to tell us what happened, why is that?’
‘Well the thing is…’
Granger almost fell out his chair after thrusting back. He retreated his elbows, gazing at the table separating him from Woods.
‘Where did you get that from?’ he snapped. His eyes shrank into empty keyholes. ‘That tree. That disgusting, leaking, tree.’
‘It’s a Juniper-’
‘Yeah, I know what it is smart arse! Why is it leaking!’
Granger saw a bonsai juniper tree sat on Woods desk, its familiar trunk was extravagantly vaulting in his direction, beneath, it made a growing pool, of a dark, clotted substance.
‘There was a good deal on Etsy, thought it would liven up my office. How is it leaking?’
‘You think am mad?’ Granger spat.
‘If it helps, I will move it away.’
‘It’s not a bother, you said it.’
‘Is that fine?’
‘OK.’ Granger’s elbows were no longer retreated, and the springs in his back lost their stiffness.
‘Let us continue,’ Woods said as he returned to his desk, ‘Why do you need to tell us, and being frank, why do you need the money, given the chartered accountant accreditation you have in your email signature?’
‘I lost my job. Everything changed for me after I killed Jordi. I started drinking. They all know me on Broad Street. I’ve never been an alcohol person; the smell alone just puts me off. Am a decent guy, not like one of your pissheads. But there I was, thinking it would really help, like it does everyone else. It didn’t.’
‘What did you do?’
‘I was smart enough to realise that alcohol was not going to make me forget what I had done. My brother deserved justice. That’s when I decided I would head to Chitral. By the time I got back, the nightmares began, and that’s when I started using.’
‘How was Jordi murdered?’
‘What’s it with you sleazeballs! Stop trying to force it! It’s not easy getting it all out, I’ve been waiting to do this a long, long time, you have no idea! Carrying this gremlin on my back, nobody except the mirror to unload.’
Granger bounced from side to side and his eyes threatened Woods.
‘Don’t take me for one of your cheap clout-chasing drama queens, who’d sell their gran for a pound, or to plug their dirty media, they’d say anything. Am not going to prance around and talk about how I was abused or how I wasn’t the favourite. I’ll give you my peace, don’t concern yourself about that. You will think it’s all shite anyway. Am not fussed. Just letting it out will do it for me.’
‘That’s fine by me.’ Woods reached for the Bensons & Hedges in his breast pocket.
‘I raised Jordi being his older brother and what not, our father was a bum we never saw, and mother passed to cancer. It was the lungs. That pierced the both of us., Nobody cried harder than Jordi.’ Granger’s lips twitched as his smile widened and retracted in a flash.
‘Mother scratched and clawed to feed us, she managed to save enough to put a deposit on a little sweet shop on the corner. It just about kept us going. A lot was expected of me. I had three jobs; newspaper boy, supermarket sweeper and in between, I had to cover mother at the sweet shop, because Jordi was too unwell or ‘over-worked’ or simply needed to play with the other kids. Mother said it ought to help his development and what not.’
Granger shook his head at a tilt, his upper lip climbed upwards and saliva dripped.
‘Whenever mother was unable to be at the shop, she needed both of us there. On more than a couple of occasions, when I had to rush back from the supermarket, I noticed the till was a little lighter at the end of the day, with no record of a sale. I put it down to an accounting error. But one day as we left the shop, three 20-pound notes slipped from Jordi’s back pocket.’
‘What happened?’ Woods asked, after taking a drag.
‘What do you think? I slapped the sly cunt. Am telling you, it felt damn good wiping that smirk off his face. I tried to tell mother, but she wouldn’t have any of it. Her little precious Jordi could be Hitler incarnate and she would never believe you. I’d get called a bad brother, told how I don’t do enough and that it’s all my fault! She even took that twirps name in her final breaths. Would you believe that?!’
Woods nodded without commitment.
‘It got to a point where I had to leave them. I could never please my mother, but I needed to do more for myself. And that’s when I went to Oxford and obtained my accreditation. The first in our family to do it. But it didn’t matter; Jordi went to a mickey mouse uni and became a Zoologist! They threw a party for him at the Regency, just across this building. A caveman expert! For fucks sake!’
‘I busted my back for a Big 4 company, overtime, weekends, you name it. It was real hard work and I made sure to send mother a transfer each month. There were many times when I was sick of working for those corporate shills, but I didn’t have it in me to quit. When mother was not with us, I left the capital. I thought it’s what she would want, for me to look out for Jordi. So, I quit my job.’
‘What was your relationship like with Jordi after that?’ Woods asked intuitively.
‘For a while, things were steady between the two of us. It seemed like he was grounded and focussed on his career. If am honest he was starting to come along. There were times though, when I may have called him a piece of shit when my stuff went missing. Nothing too horrible, of course I’d find the things later, but I couldn’t admit it.
Some days Jordi would come home late, and I’d lash out, I thought maybe he’d be up to no good, just like the old days. Turns out he was just mingling with some colleagues after work. Then it came to a point where there were days, when I’d not see him until the next morning. What was he playing at? We had a chat about it, and I tried to be nice. He said it was work, but I never understood the depths which involved the study of animals and their behaviour at the time.
One day we just had it all out, I called him a useless bum repeatedly. Blamed him for mother’s death. I ripped his qualifications and job too… I said how it was meaningless, the animal nonsense and that he was a disgrace to the family. I really did intend it at the time, you know. I quit my job for him, and he was wasting the best years of his life. I was insulted. After trying to redeem him, all he had to say to me was, ‘you fucking bastard’. All I can recall is, I saw RED, and slapped him so hard, it could have woken up mother. A couple days later, Jordi left after leaving a note. He ended up there, because of me.’
Bro, am heading to Chitral. I’ll be making you and mother proud.
Granger went blank and appeared dazed. Woods had to click his fingers to disturb his tangential demon.
‘Ah where, what? Yes. Jordi. I loved him regardless.’ He said it with venom, as though he loved his brother to spite his torment.
‘Who killed Jordi?’ Woods asked.
‘Barmanou,’ Andre Granger answered instantly. ‘Barmanou killed him. Just came out his lair, hunted him down to his hut, and killed him.’ He crouched forward and smirked. ‘Yeah, you think am mental, I can tell by that horrible face you’re making. Am not fussed. I just need to get this out, and I’ll fuck right off.’
‘Barmanou, the wild snow man? It’s all a myth isn’t it? His existence has never been officially confirmed.’ Woods asked with a provoking poker face.
‘Look, I read the reports just like everyone did, it’s how I came to learn of his death. And I believed it too, just like you. For a while. I was all over the place in the head, not quite there, you know. If I had been a better brother, none of it would have happened. I barely ate and couldn’t sleep at night; I couldn’t mourn him the right way. The Kalashi people wouldn’t allow his body to be sent here, it would have been against their beliefs and all. I didn’t quite understand, but it sounded to me like he was close to those people. They probably treated him better than I did. I agreed for him to be buried there.
About a fortnight had passed. I started to contemplate opening the bottle, and so, I went to the nearest paper shop from my house, which is a 15-minute walk. I can’t recall the time exactly; it was late in the evening. It’s always a bit quiet on my road, once you get off it, things liven up. A few more bodies to keep you company, as you walk the pavement, and the lights from the top floor bedrooms guide you. I made it to the shop, and amateurishly asked for the strongest drink on offer. A brown-skinned, turban-wearing man, stood behind the counter, he was about to hand me a bottle of scotch. I didn’t know what it was at the time, but I just didn’t like the colour. I pointed at a clearer bottle, I felt it would be more domesticated for my liking. I thought better than to be drinking the moment I set off, but a sniff couldn’t hurt right? Make sure it was ok. To my surprise, it wasn’t too bad, a few spoiled apples, that was all.
Anyway, on the way back, the roads were completely dead. I could see no one, and the only sound I could hear, was my own footsteps. No homes provided me a glow either, and I had to focus, as I staggered in the gloom. I got to my road, and the closer I was to my house, each streetlight I passed mysteriously went off. I walked faster and reached my door, quickly opened it, daring not to look back. When I was inside, I noticed a small, square package, on my floormat.’ Granger paused for a second and exhaled a part of the toxic air trapped in his lungs.
‘What was it?’ Woods asked.
‘Nothing special on initial glance. It appeared to be a journal of some kind. The covers were on the shagged side, but made from a sturdy leather, straps connected folded paper to the spine. I could tell it was from a bygone time. I opened the first page, the top right corner read; Jordi Granger, My Search For Barmanou.’ Granger shivered as he read.
‘Now. I can’t go into the depths of the detail which plague my soul. But my brother experienced terrible apprehension in the days leading up to his death.’ Granger slouched his head.
‘What did you find in the journal?’ Woods whispered.
‘It was nothing much on first look, an extract here, an extract there, followed by a funny image on some pages, of a furry animal looking thing, it always cracked me up with its big weird head, and gaped mouth, showing those clear white teeth, I couldn’t tell if it was smiling or not, it looked like confused.com. The more I saw it, I became curious. So, I made the effort to read some of the eyewitness reports. One of them revolved around some middle-aged shepherd called Lal Tor, talking about footprints he saw in soft ground, while he walked in a forest above his home. He described the footprints as being like that of a human, but the forward part was wider, they were 27 centimetres in length and 15 centimetres in width. You know what they say don’t you, big feet and all, aha? The witness stated the prints were distinct and showed evidence of hair on top of the foot. I giggled at this thinking what a hairy bastard. Anyway, tracks went up to the top of the mountain, and showed the wildling had been using its hands to climb up the slope. His hands were said to be broad and his fingers were short and narrow. In tandem with the large prints, there was another trail, a long bloody streak, which stretched to the top. It was probably dinner, just some animal or something.’
Granger’s lips twitched and he offered the disturbing grin again which was gone in a blink.
‘I thought my brother was some moron for wasting his time, but there were numerous reports going on about tracks or how the hairy mongrel looked. It appeared his research was warranted somewhat, either that or the lot of them were crazy. There was one witness report in the journal which got me though. There was a little fella by the name of Nur Ul Lah, a 7-year-old, and another one going by Abdur Rehman, a 5-year-old. Both provided info to Jordi.’
Granger’s fingers began to seesaw.
Woods passed a bottle of highland spring to Granger. He took a sip every 5 seconds, as though he was drinking from an hourglass. Then continued, after taking a big gulp.
‘So, the story goes. There were three kids, two little lads and a lass. They were playing near a river close to their local village. The two lads were play fighting, probably trying to impress. The girl noticed the thing first, she wasn’t giggling anymore, and her desperate legs made her invisible behind some bush. The Big Hairy, as the kids described, was rushing down the mountain. The lads didn’t notice the Big Hairy until she stood between them. The thing kicked the shorter lad to the ground and grabbed him. The other lad, petrified, ran down towards the village with the girl. They saw the Big Hairy, sprinting away up the mountain; like an offroad vehicle with coupe speeds, it carried the boy, 4 year old Gul Khan. The boy and the girl who escaped, dared not to speak a word at first and didn’t go home, they hid in the first garden they came across, on the outskirts of the village. It was mid-day when the boys’ father became concerned and went out looking for him, eventually finding the boy and the girl, quivering in their fused arms. The boy told the story, and the village was alerted. After discovering large footprints near the river, hundreds of people scoured the mountain, in vain. The villagers concluded it was a Pari, which means a spirit or witch in their foreign tongue. Days later, some teenagers who still patrolled the area, using binoculars, discovered a child’s clothing wash up on the river’s edge. They found a body, permanently still, the t-shirt; a reddish brown. There was a hole in the boy’s neck.’
Granger went silent.
‘Were you convinced it was Barmanou then?’ Woods asked faintly.
‘No, not then. But there were some things from the witness reports. Didn’t mean much at the time, but they were stored at the back of my mind.’
‘What were they?’
‘There were some differences in the accounts, on whether the thing was male or female, the size of its prints or how it looked. But each witness noted a leaking Juniper tree and lone howling; this usually ended with an unsettling proclamation.’
‘I see. Did you finish the journal then?’
‘What do you think fancy pants? What would you do? After reading all that. I’d be lying if I didn’t admit, I was shitting it a little bit. It was the perfect opportunity to take a sip or two of the clear liquid. And before I knew it, the bottle was half empty.’
Granger began to shuffle in his seat.
‘Look, I had my first drink. But I want to assure you, I was sound of mind. It’s important you know that before I speak further.’
‘Sure.’
‘I was knocked out after that for some time. It must have been around 2:44 in the morning. I felt a sharp cramp in the stomach, so went to the kitchen to get some water. I turned on the tap, but what came out was a viscous discharge, of a reddish slime. I froze, as the filth was glued to my hands. It smelled like the rusty chains of a lost bike. I had to blink a few times to make sure I wasn’t having some nightmare. In a fright, I used my t-shirt to get the sticky shit off me. I had better luck with the fridge, pouring myself some more clear liquid… don’t judge me, it was all I could find. Gathering myself, I walked to the front room and stared down the road. There was no human soul in sight or light. It was a pit of gloom. A strange outline wrapped the moon, the darkness expanded, as it made its unhasty way towards me. I couldn’t look away, it reached the house, and suddenly, every bulb went off. My chest pounding, I hurried to close all the curtains, and double locked the front door. I darted up the stairs and pulled the duvet over me like a child. Then, there was a lone howl from downstairs. I prayed and prayed, pleading with God for forgiveness and protection. Each step it took, dripped, and cracked. As it climbed the stairs, it was starting to sound less like a person and more like a wet savage, slamming the wood beneath, with its developed meat.’
Granger was starting to sweat like a wet savage himself.
‘What happened then?’ Woods asked.
‘I don’t remember, I may have passed out in a panic. But the whole ordeal got me thinking real deep you know. Jordi’s research involved substantial work in the field. What if one day, he was at the wrong place at the wrong time? I had to find out more. It’s the least I could do for my brother, this was his life’s work. I owed it to him. I had decided, I would journey to Northern Pakistan.’
Woods lit another smoke.
‘My lawyer put me in touch with the Kalashi tribe, through some links he made following Jordis’s death. I exchanged some letters with their leader, Saif Jan. We agreed I would journey in the summer, given the weather and all being a little more predictable up there. I was to meet a bloke by the name of Kaleem Kabir, the only MBA in Chitral. Wet met at Islamabad Airport, and he greeted me with open arms and a wide smile. I really felt his embrace you know, big, big lad, and tried my best not to tear up. All that time and no one to grieve with. We made a stop at Ramyal, a small village in the KPK region for a short break, and then continued to Chitral, from the N-45 Highway via a Japanese four-wheeler. I avoid flying as much as possible. Hours went by sharing stories about Jordi; I felt the love these people had for him in abundance. I must say, I was impressed with Kaleem’s English.
We were getting closer to Chitral, and the spectacular Himalayan Mountain range was in full view; it encapsulated the district with pure glory, from some of the highest peaks on God’s earth. Finally, we crossed grazing lands and entered the Kalash Valley.’
Granger smiled maniacally.
‘It was heaven Woods. The bubbling crystal flowing between the valley, vast pine forests which scented the air, and mountains….mountains which breathed life with Christmas.’
‘I don’t doubt it.’ Woods remarked.
‘Kaleem took me to the Hindu Kush Kalash home guesthouse. It was located in the Krakal Village, located in one of the Kalash Valley’s called Bumboret. Interestingly, it was minutes from the hut where my brother was killed. I was given the finest foods in the valley, and told to rest before joining the tribal leader Saif Jan the next evening, for the Kalashi’s annual summer solstice festival. This year’s event would celebrate the life of Jordi. I didn’t find out much about the festival… some things it’s best to experience for yourself you know, living in the moment and all that. But I had read a little bit about the tribe and their beliefs, Kaleem did his best to get me up to speed. It can be tricky to find a catch-all word to label the Kalashi religion, but they are sure to emphasise they believe in the one God, which is similar to the Abrahamic faiths, but that this God has many messengers, who are viewed as Gods. Pagan may not be entirely accurate to define their beliefs, although they did seem to have some commonality with the faiths of pre-Christian Northern Europe.
For the first time in months, I slept like a baby. I rested in my brother’s land. It gave me a sort of peace you know; he was right here with me, and I was going to find out what happened. Kaleem came a couple of hours after I woke up, late in the afternoon. He gave me a brew, the strongest I’d ever had, I felt like I could climb Everest. We got in the four-wheeler, passed through the mesmerising Kalashi river, 20 miles over the deceptively twisty roads of the western Hindu Kush mountains, and made it to the Ayan village centre at the top of a hill. There were kids bouncing around everywhere. The women must have been sponsoring the rainbow with their vibrant colours and cool headdress which had that feather thing sticking out the top, and the men tended to the animals, carrying wood everywhere.
Kaleem took me to a two-story mud and stone house just outside the central square. It belonged to Saif Jan. He was a rather small chap with a grey beard which extended to his neck, a wildly excited feather in his cap, and a cheeky smirk which did well to hide the wrinkles. I think he was smoking juniper; his eyes were all cloudy and red. “Ishpata, baya. Prusht taza?” he said, which Kaleem translated for me as “Welcome, brother. Are you well?”. Pleasantries were exchanged, and I got him on the topic of Jordi. He began to well up for a few minutes before shouting “He was one of us!”. He went on a bit of a rant, talking about how Jordi helped the locals with farming, how they learned of the many wonders of HP sauce and beans on toast from him. And also, how to make a bit more money off the tourists, with silly branding like no added sugar and shorter hair. Jordi was obviously there for his research, but it got a little out of hand. I asked Saif Jan what he meant by this. And he got very close to my left ear, and said very softly, “Barmanou”. He quickly backed away and didn’t want to offer more detail. But he did describe how he found Jordi in his hut. His eyelids were completely shut, almost by force. His mouth was wide open vertically, and his throat, was mutilated…’
Granger’s speech became slurred, and his words faded. A big and silent tear drop trickled over a bump below his right eye, and raced down his cheek.
Woods handed Granger some tissues.
‘Did you visit Jordi’s Tomb while you were there?’
Granger halted in the act of blowing his nose and slowly looked up at Woods. ‘What the fuck would you do? Are you taking the piss mate?’
‘Not at all,’ Woods said.
‘Then don’t ask me stupid shit. Let me say it my way, I told you, I’ve been waiting to do this a long fucking time.’
‘Fine,’ Woods said.
‘Fine!’ Granger reverberated with disdain. He appeared to have lost his bearings, and his eyes roamed uneasily to a dark corner behind him, where Woods had placed the juniper tree.
‘Do you want me to move it out?’ Woods asked.
‘No.’ Granger said, while he laughed nervously.
‘Where was I? Think it was Saif Jan. Yes.
I began to tremble when Saif Jan told me that last bit, but at the same time I wanted to do something about it you know? It was like a, what do they say? Fight or flight. I asked him where Jordi had travelled before his death, Saif Jan hesitated, but informed me he spent much of his time in Shishi Koh Valley. I looked to Kaleem, and he just knew I wanted to be taken there immediately. Saif Jan begged me not to go. I asked why, and he spewed some none sense about dark entities and evil manifesting after dusk. Knowing I would not budge, he lit a sprig and encircled me five times with its poignant smoke. He then offered me a weird looking spliff, and it would have been rude not to take a drag. I was declared purified and protected, only if I could complete the final step by making a sacrifice during the festival, unlike Jordi. I thanked the old man and left thinking, what a crazy old fart.
Kaleem insisted I attend the festival and how my sacrifice could be some random animal and all. I found it backward and didn’t really have the stomach for it. Yeah, I love my KFC, don’t look at me like that, we’re all hypocrites. Kaleem said it would be fine, how he’d find something which had lost its family, and how I’d be doing it a favour. Sick bastard. I refused, and he said that he could only take me so far. I agreed, like I had a choice. So, we got on four wheels and headed towards Shishi Valley Road. A trail of smoke which followed us from the village, became more and more distant in the wing mirror next to me. The flames eroded behind us.
We made it to Madaklasht, a neighbouring valley to the extreme north of Shishi Koh. The drive was largely ok, considering the lack of roads, except for the final hour. We passed a bumpy road along the riverside, and then got onto a dusty track, which blinded all corners of the car. The wipers did little to blunt the attack, and the fading daylight didn’t help. We were on the curved edge of a mountain, with no barrier for support. The fog lights barely helped Kaleem. He twisted and turned, almost on loop, while he cursed the government’s dismantling of the road on the pretext of making it better, and leaving it worse off. It felt like we were surrounded with no escape. Finally, the dust storm settled, as did my apprehension. He drove a little further, and I got off, just as the road began to straighten. Kaleem pointed to an old caravan route which was out of use. I was to travel from there, onto my unknown destination. He politely asked if he should wait. We both knew he’d struggle in the darkness. I declined and asked him to return to my drop off the next morning. He pleaded with me one last time, to leave with him.’
Granger’s shoulders hunched. He looked ghoulishly at the floor.
‘What kept you going, especially, all alone?’ Woods leaned forward and spoke a touch softer.
‘Honestly, I don’t know. I had come too far to turn back. So, I walked the dusty path wedged between mountains which were hideously tall and rugged. It had only been a mile when it became completely dark and awfully silent. I was going to pull out my torch, but was overcome by that revolting feeling when you’ve lost something. I had left my bag in the four-wheeler. Pointy shadows came from the pine forests to my side, and within them, I kept seeing a large figure which was briefly illuminated by the moonlight. I stopped and examined further, but of course there was nothing. Gritty snow began to fall, and I had to make haste. I decided to look out for Juniper trees, recalling the witness reports from Jordi’s journal, something always seemed to happen near them. The first couple I passed were uneventful; if anything, the dense canopy of snow which was starting to build, made them look divine.
But then, then…’
Granger was trembling.
‘Then what?’ Woods asked excitedly.
‘It got colder and colder, the snow fell harder, and soon enough, I was covered in a white camouflage. Then that agonising howling began. I could barely breathe. I don’t know if it was my anxiety or the air which grew thinner rapidly. It first came from the mountains to my sides, and then it got louder as it travelled to the forests close to me. I tried to blot out what was happening, but my body refused to respond to my mind. I felt a tension in my throat, and my insides were twisting. I closed my eyes for a few minutes, and when I opened them, I noticed the howling was growing fainter, as I went on my way. And then there was a quietness again, one which I have never experienced before. It was almost peaceful, and that filled me with a horrid feeling of suspense.
Then I got stuck.
I lifted my right foot, a mucusy gunk was stringing beneath. It was a dark reddish slime. I followed the horrible trail which ended with two footprints. It couldn’t have been human or animal, and the front bit was wider. My fear-stricken examination was halted, when I found a leaking Juniper tree.
It was unlike those I had passed.
There was no canopy of snow.
It arched towards me with a menace. And its leaves were black.
The branches made strange shapes beneath me, as I got closer…
I saw…I saw corpses Woods, my god…their necks, looked like they had been through a blender.
The blood flowed to the tree’s huge trunk, emulsifying with its sap, and below, there it was.
Holding the earth still with its force.
Drinking from a fountain of despair, painting its wide and powerful teeth with crimson.
My knees buckled.
I hopelessly prayed for the floury layer of snow, to kill the sound, but I hit rock.
A deep guttural cry rumbled through the valley, and its mammoth of a head, jolted towards me.
I can’t describe how horrifying it was to realise what it felt to be prey. I ran as fast as my legs could carry me. Wherever I turned, I couldn’t shake off the wet smell of a rotting carcass right behind me. I ignored it, and kept running, propelled by my fear.
I found the old caravan route.
Two divergent lights stalled me, it was Kaleem. He held up my bag of supplies. I casually sat in the back seat of his four-wheeler, and never said a word the whole way back.’
Granger retreated to his palms and began to sob.
Woods struggled for words.
‘That was… very…very disquieting,’ he said.
‘There’s a lot to uncover there. I think you could do with some professional help. I know a guy if you’re interested.’
‘Don’t you think I am?’ Granger removed his hands from his face. His eyes were bloodied, crude and bruised.
‘I’m not sure,’ Woods said inaudibly.
A few minutes went past, and Granger mumbled, ‘Go on then, you corporate twat. You lot and your self-help bullshit,’
‘That’s great, let me get the details for you. I’ll grab you a coffee on the way back.’
Woods put on his best smile and left.
Outside his office, he stood in complete darkness. He tried to put the lights back on, but they wouldn’t work.
Woods was struggling to move.
A thick slime was glued to his shoes.
A cruel odour came from behind.