I grew up in a small town on the coast of Maine. I lived on the outskirts of the village, and past my house was an endless unexplored sea of pine trees, stretching hundreds of miles. I grew up afraid of the dark, and my mother would sit me beside her in the front yard at night to try to ease my fear. In the dead of the silent night, we would hear the cackling of coyotes, the occasional grunt of a moose, and watch bats scurry overhead. She would always shut all of the lights off in the house, and we would sit in eerie silence. At first, I was petrified. The cold wind blowing across my jacket would push me closer to her, and for a year I refused to open my eyes until she told me it was time to go back inside. I would sprint, demons nipping at my heels. One time, I even slammed directly into the sliding glass door. I frantically pawed the snowy ground for my glasses, giving up and running to my bed. She came in the house calmly holding my glasses, fearless to the mystery of the night.
As I grew older, my fear dulled. I began taking a flashlight, and walking around the desolate property late in the evening. Once I was in a calm spot at the edge of the woods, I would turn out the light to pitch darkness and listen. The moon was always bright enough to etch rays through the pines. The bushes would rustle and I would feel the primal fear creeping up. My trusty flashlight would click on to reveal a squirrel or a small night bird dancing in the branches, and I would spin around to see that it was just myself alone in the night. Tonight, I gathered myself and walked back toward the beacon of light from my house on the hill. I twisted the head of the flashlight, and it woke with brilliance. I left the demons behind me, nipping at my heels as I waltzed confidently toward salvation.
I did this for months. I would crawl into bed, await the light to shut off in my mother’s room, and sneak blissfully into the night. Every night, the woods would call my name. My flashlight by my side, I would sit at the edge of the wood and listen to the calls. Shrieks of a rabbit being chased by coyotes through the wetlands or an occasional crash of deer snapping sticks in their moonlit jaunt. I would sit in silence.
Over time, I began venturing farther into the woods. Nature beckoned me. Voices of the forest came alive at night. The yipping of coyotes was a symphony, the screams of their prey an applause. The voices became louder over time, and I would begin to notice the sounds moving closer. My mind would wander in the dark, and I would imagine prehistoric wars between man and beast. The chaotic shadows of unknown origin took on horrifying shapes. The crashes would come closer every night, and I would take up my flashlight, twist it on, and walk home. The demons stood at my back, and followed me until I reached the edges of light radiating from my porch light.
It was on a cold February night. I had just turned twelve, and I laid in my bed awaiting my mother to fall asleep. I dozed off, and awoke with primal bliss to find they her light had turned off. I grabbed my flashlight, and snuck through the house. The night was freezing, and my coat did little to fend off the bitterness of the wind. I trudged through the snow, and walked endlessly through the trees. Beneath the crunching of my snow-covered feet was the sound of the Earth humming. The shadows danced around me, and the chorus began. First, the strings played a sad tune of decay. The trees whimpered a melody, as the icy breath blew through them. The coyotes joined in, on cue, and the horrified cries of prey applauded. I felt darkness the darkness come closer, and I reached for my flashlight as the haunting shadows moved in. The light wouldn’t turn on. My hands were frozen, and I frantically fumbled to twist the flashlight head in vain. The bodies stood above me, as I sat in the cold snow. They mocked me, laughed at me. I bit down on the head of the flashlight, teeth clattering against the cold steel. I twisted, my spit freezing against the handle as I cried in terror.
I felt a hand grab my back, and I screamed.
I was suddenly drowned in light. Confused, and numb. I sat frozen in the snow, and heard a voice in front of me. Warm hands touched my face.
“Oh my god, what… what are you doing out here? Put the gun down. Please.”
I was petrified. I was awake. I was in deep in the woods. I was bare naked.
I still felt the cold steel still between my teeth, resting against my frozen tongue. My mother’s flashlight grazed over it, I saw that it was my father’s revolver. My skin was on fire. My mind lost.
“David! Call the police! I found him!”