Listen instead!
Somethin’s bangin in my dreams, then there’s a smash and I wake up. It comes from next door, daddy’s room, then somethin’s outside. I hear it scrape against the side of the cabin.
I jump outta bed, go to daddy’s room. I can hear the wind howlin like there’s a window open, and I can feel the cold against my bare legs, then all over my body, dressed as I am in my nightdress. His room’s empty, and I can see that the window’s smashed, bits of glass scattered on the wood floor. The bed is all torn up like an animal’s been at it, and there’re what look like claw marks on the walls. Daddy didn’t even get a chance to pull down his rifle from where it hangs above his bed.
To my right, his closet is open but it’s empty of clothes, just some broken shackles hangin from the top of it and loose at the bottom, ankle height. I call for daddy, though he ain’t here, and I can hear myself gettin louder, can feel myself gettin frantic, almost screamin now, headin for the window cos if he ain’t replyin he ain’t inside, must be outside. The bushes are rustlin out there, might be the wind, might be somethin in the woods. “Daddy?”
That somethin growls.
It’s out there, amongst the bushes and the trees, and it’s got my daddy, so I grab his rifle and jump out the shattered window, no time to get my boots on. Bits of glass and broken twigs dig into my soles but I ignore them, hurry into the foliage and keep the gun raised in case the thing shows up. I’m wonderin what it could be – a bear, a wolf, I don’t know. Daddy’s always told me, if I hear somethin outside I’m to leave it be.
He sat me down on my bed right after we moved up here, away from school and all my friends. “You hear anythin in the woods, you just ignore it, okay? Leave it alone and it’ll leave you alone, y’understand?”
I nodded.
This was after momma had disappeared. He told me she wasn’t comin back. “Why not?”
“She just ain’t.”
“How do you know?”
“She ain’t comin back, Goddamnit! Y’understand?” Daddy was shoutin. Daddy never normally shouts. He scared me and I started cryin, and he took me up in his arms, squeezed me tight and kept sayin I’m sorry, and he started cryin, but his tears were hot and didn’t seem like they were ever gonna stop and it didn’t feel like he was apologisin for shoutin.
But he never said anything about if an animal came inside and pulled him right outta his bed. I know what he would do if it was me, though, out in the cold and maybe hurt.
I come to a clearing and stop. It’s well lit, the moon shining down through the openin in the treetops. My feet are achin. I look down and there’s blood between my toes, round my ankles. My shins are all cut up from thorns.
There’s a noise, somethin’s in the trees, runnin circles round the clearing. I shoulder the rifle and I hear its growl again. Daddy taught me how to shoot, though nothin bigger’n a rabbit. I remember everythin he taught me now, to stay cool, keep breathin. The bushes stop rustlin, the thing stops runnin, and everythin goes quiet.
Then I feel its breath on my neck. I turn and it straightens, about seven foot tall on two legs, just a broad mass of sleek black fur over ripplin, flexin muscle. Its eyes are bloodshot yellow, lookin right into mine, and there’s foam frothin at its gums, some spit hangs down, splashes on my cheek. I’m frozen, can’t scream. Then it’s on me. The gun goes off when it hits the ground, fires into the bushes. I’m cryin out for my daddy, but he doesn’t come, and the thing on top is rippin me apart, teeth and claws sharper than the thorns.
I black out, fade in, I can’t feel anythin anymore. Then it’s almost mornin, the sun comin up, I’m fadin out for maybe the last time, but daddy’s here now, he’s got me in his arms and he’s screamin, and there’s blood on his bare chest and round his mouth, on his teeth, but it’s okay now cos daddy’s here, he’s got me, everythin’s gonna be all right.
by 
Paul Heatley
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