It was a shortcut that I would regret for the rest of my life. Don’t get me wrong, the scenery was beautiful. A rolling landscape, secluded country houses and wildlife in abundance. But, the beauty soon faded into insignificance when a sheep, covered in blood, ran out in front of me, causing me to swerve my car off the single track road and crash into a dry-stone wall.
I’d approached a wooded area and was doing about fifty when I saw the sheep but managed to break and reduce my speed before the impact. My airbag had activated and saved me from any serious damage. After a moment or two, and a couple of prayers of thanks for still being alive, I pushed open my door, unfastened my seat belt and got out of my car. I closed the door and lent heavily against the car, taking in painful, deep breaths. I scanned the area for the sheep that I had seen, but it was nowhere in sight.
I definitely saw what I saw.
I eased myself away from the car and assessed the damage to the front of it. It was going nowhere. There was steam hissing from the radiator and there was a steady drip of black oil from underneath. I fished my mobile phone from my pocket. There was no signal. Great!
A sudden shriek startled me. It came from the direction the sheep had run from.
Another one, louder this time and closer, followed by another.
What the fuck is that?
My thoughts were answered when a dozen or more sheep ran from over the small grassy mound and across the road, exactly where the sheep that had caused my crash had come from. Each and every one of them was smeared with dark, crimson blood.
There was another blood-curdling shriek. I looked round and decided the only way I could go was in the same direction as the sheep, into the woodlands. If I went down the road I would be too exposed to whatever was out there.
I started to run, clambering up the embankment where the sheep had gone. The pains in my chest from the seat belt began to ease as I took in large breaths. Suddenly, above me, there was a cracking of tree limbs and then, just feet in front of me, the lower half of a human body landed with a thud.
Holy…shit!
I carried on running, glancing down at the naked limbs, noticing that they were female.
What the fuck is going on?
Another shriek followed by a muffled scream. I ran harder, the ground undulating beneath my feet. The sheep had spread out but were heading in the same direction.
Ahead, I saw a stream. I noticed a small bridge off to my left and made a run for it. I jumped down into the stream, just as another body part landed on a patch of heather at the side of the stream. I splashed through the water and got to the bridge, scrambling underneath it. I was struggling to control my breathing; my whole body felt like it was shaking.
Another shriek.
I turned under the bridge, keeping close to the stone wall as I peeked out in the direction of the noise. I had imagined seeing some kind of bizarre bird like creature, but there was nothing. Then out of the woods came a naked man. His whole body was covered in blood and in one of his hands there was a human arm. His head twitched from side to side, unnatural in its movements.
Oh fuck.
I looked out again, in time to see his mouth open and an ear splitting shriek ripped through the air. I covered my ears, the sound almost painful.
Got to move, got to move.
The man walked to the edge on the stream, the bloodied arm still in his hand. I slowly walked the eight feet or so under the bridge and crawled up the heather laden bank. I inched up to the top of the stonework and looked back to where the man was stood. To my amazement there were now two of them. I don’t just mean two men; I mean there were two of them. There was two of the same fucking bloke. In unison their mouths opened and they let out an ear splitting shriek.
What the fuck is happening?
Fuck it! I scrambled to my feet and ran. I had no idea where I was going but I ran. I ran harder than I had ever run in my entire life. I looked back over my shoulder and saw that the two men were walking in my direction. There was no urgency to their movements, which I felt wasn’t quite right. It was only when I looked back in the direction that I was running that I realised why. A few hundred yards ahead, to my left, a man was running across a field. He was being chased by two naked men. Within seconds they were on top of him and his limbs were ripped from his body. His screams of pain and terror were instantly drowned out by the shrieks let out by his captors.
This just can’t be happening.
I turned to my right, jumped into the stream, ran through it and staggered up the other side. I got my footing again and ran. I ran for what seemed an eternity and never looked back.
* * * * *
I’ve now been hiding in this elevated position, behind a moss covered rock for what seems like an eternity. The shrieks are still echoing on the evening air. They still seem to be coming from the area below me. I’m safe for now, but for how long? I don’t know if I’ll ever get out of here. It feels like I’m in the middle of nowhere. Everywhere I look there are fields and woodlands and hills and in the distance, mountains. God’s country. Heaven on earth. Not on this day though. Heaven can’t be like this. Maybe I’ll know soon enough.
What was that? Oh, dear God. Please…no. Our, Father who art in Heaven, hallowed be thy n….
by 
Having written for a few years when he was younger, fatherhood took hold and, being self employed, earning money suddenly became more important so mindless scribbling had to take a back seat.
It was after a visit back down to Manchester that his childhood friend and fellow writer, Col Bury, invited him to submit something for a magazine he was assistant editor of – the award winning Thrillers, Killers ‘n’ Chillers. He rattled off a six sentence story called Sorry Love and sent it off. That piece then went off to win a 2nd place Bullet Award.
Since that day his writing has flowed from fingers to keyboard and onto other magazines, such as A Twist of Noir, Near To The Knuckle, The New Flesh and Blink Ink. He has also had the honour of having stories published in print and in e-book anthologies, True Brit Grit, Action: Pulse Pounding Tales, Off The Record and The Lost Children: A Charity Anthology.
He was, for 18 months, the editor of The Flash Fiction Offensive. During that time his eye for detail vastly improved and the editing side of the industry has helped his own writing enormously. He is a crime editor at Thrillers, Killers ‘n’ Chillers.
He is currently working on a few projects including a novel and a new e-book short story collection.
His first short story collection, From A Crowded Mind, is available at Amazon.co.uk and Amazon.com.
He can be found lurking at davidjbarber.wordpress.com.
On Twitter at @thetwoblokes
On Facebook
Latest posts by David Barber (see all)
- Monster - January 26, 2012
- I Saw What I Saw - December 31, 2011
Freaky, creepy and disturbing. Just like a girl I used to know. Great stuff Dave!
Thanks, buddy. Have a great New Year!
A real chiller.
Thanks, Paul. All the best for 2012.
Fantastically eerie Dave. You transported me to a wooded area I know and then painted a new view.
Excellent
Thanks, Graham. Appreciate the feedback. Happy New Year to you and yours.
Stuart & Paul – Thanks guys. There’s a sequel (possibly a prequel) in the works.
Daz and the crew – Thanks for publishing. Really appreciate it.
All the very best for 2012!!!
Oooh, this is a wonderfully done walking, living, breathing nightmare for me as the reader, David. Love it.
Robin – Thank you. Glad you liked it. I aim to please. All the very best for 2012!!
and you want me to visit Scotland?!! You just scared the **** out of me! great story, Dave!
Thomas – I scared the shit out of myself when I thought the story up whilst driving on that single track road. Thanks, man!
Okay this, hands down, is the very best WTF! story of the year. It starts with that question and keeps adding to it and adding to it and adding to it until your mind is screaming with it. Then, my mate David — the fucking sadist — jumps out of the corner and rips the rug out from under any form of sanity you were desperately trying to salt the story with and you hit your head on the hardwood floor and a giant WTF! hovering in your mind in neon redder that the Vegas Strip at midnight on Saturday is that last thing you remember before the black swallows you whole. Lots done in a very few words, buddy, Cool.
Thanks, AJ. Your feedback means a lot!
Aj, your comment is almost as good as the story!
Nice job. Definitely giving me flashbacks to the creepy Morlocks in H. G. Wells’ TIME MACHINE. Happy New Year, bud. Keep writing.
Thanks, Ron, I appreciate you reading and leaving a comment. Happy New Year to you and yours!!
Nothing like supplication to close out a bloody and demented tale. This is some sweet scribbling, Dave. Really good stuff.
Thanks, Mike. Always appreciate your feedback. Happy New Year to you and yours, buddy!
Good stuff, Dave. It’s funny, right before I pulled up my google reader and saw this I had added the original An American Werewolf in London to my Netflix queue. Different story, of course, but similar vibe.
Thanks, Chris. I’ll take that, my story being compared to one of my all time fave movies. Happy 2012 to you and your family, mate. Cheers!!
Freaky David! Two of them and the scary shrieking…made me shiver!
Thanks, Tina.
chilling and scary… real scary!
Thanks for stopping by, Bill. Appreciate it.
Bizarre and alarming. I enjoyed the Hell out of it. Thanks for the new nightmare.
Cheers, Matt! Happy to give you nightmares!
Bloody cracker this, Dave. One of your best, and that’s saying something.
Thanks, Col. Appreciate you having a look. You make me blush, big boy!
Geez, David! Did you have to scare the pants off me right before I go to bed? How am I supposed to fall asleep now?
Thanks, Zelda. I’m honoured to be able to scare the your pants off!! :-)