Missing, Without A Peep

The following is a perfect fairy tale — for adults who enjoy horror with twisted happy-ever-afters

She placed her foot into the soft, gooey mud. The slimy dark grey sludge oozed upwards, around her sandals, and over her toes. It wasn’t ideal. She never wanted to venture into this forest in the first place, but her flock was one sheep short. The lamb was last seen going in, and she had to retrieve it by nightfall before the next cloudburst.

The mob scattered in every direction after lightning struck the grazing paddock. A worried mother bellowed out for her baby, and Bo had to leave the safety of the open grassland to bring it back. There were always stories about children disappearing in the woods above the paddock. Young Jack and Jill vanished there about ten years ago. Two years ago, a young Chinese girl, Ri Ting Hud, walked into those woods too. None of them was seen again.

“I’ll be alright,” Bo said reassuringly, lifting her eyes from her muddied foot. “I’m nineteen. He doesn’t like grown-ups.” She stepped forward, taking care not to slip in the slushie muck.

It’s true. His appetite appeared reserved for the young, but Bo wasn’t tall. In the dwindling light of the forest, she could easily pass for a child.

Struggling to find firm footholds in the muddy furrows, she fell and reached out to a nearby tree. The moss on its trunk was like lanolin grease on butter. Her hand continued downwards until it disappeared into a pool of brown water at the tree’s base. She fell sideways, and her face and hair landed in the mud beside it. She let out a scream when her elbow hit something hard inside the brown liquid.

Bo heard her echo and smothered her lips with a muddy hand, “Oh, Bo. He’ll hear you.”

The heavens opened again, and raindrops as large as marbles drummed on the forest floor. They hit Bo, too, bursting and washing the silt from her matted hair and face. The stream ran down and soaked her thin cotton dress. It clung to her body — lightning revealing her shape ever so briefly. Thunder thumped the forest as if to applaud.

Another flash burned the shape of the landscape into her retinas. It then went dark again as another thunderclash shook the trees and ground.

The rain increased. It obscured the path ahead. When the lightning flashed again, it froze thousands of clear marbles in mid-air. At times, the forest became so bright that Bo’s eyes couldn’t see detail. An eery, black world replaced it immediately afterwards.

It would’ve been better to let the lamb fend for itself than to try and navigate the forest now. She should’ve been more worried about her penetrating scream. From out of the abyss of frozen marbles, a stranger’s arm reached out to her. Its hand grabbed her throat and latched on tight. She held the muscular shape and struggled in the mud. She let out another scream. The face of a man then materialized through those transparent spheres.

“That won’t make a damn difference,” he said, pressing his nose to hers. “It never has before.”

Her eyes widened. She tried to scream again. This time, no sound surfaced.

The marbles smashed into the man’s arm and unshaven face. Water streamed over the grime, along the tip of his nose, and then onto her chin. She could smell his putrid breath and feel its heat on her lips. She held onto his wrist with both hands and tried to pry herself free.

“I’ll make you an offer. Your life or his.”

He leaned and brought his other arm forward. Inside its crook was a tiny ball of wet, creamy wool. It moved, bleated, and wriggled in the rain.

“Well?” he asked, giving her neck an extra squeeze. “Want to see him go home, wagging his tail behind him?”

She stood silent, unable to utter a word.

“His mother must be worried sick.”

She shook uncontrollably as her eyes flicked between his thick forearm and those evil eyes. The lamb continued to bleat and wriggle.

“I guess it’s up to me to choose,” he said.

He gently lowered the tiny bundle and let it scurry away. It cried until it couldn’t be heard anymore. He leaned in again and placed his free hand around her neck. “ He’s going home. You are not.”

His grip from behind tightened, too. She found it difficult to breathe. He lifted her and pressed his body against hers. She felt a lump against her stomach. Bo sucked in some air to scream, but she couldn’t make a peep.

“I’ll give you one minute to run,” he said, whispering into her ear. “Then you’re all mine.”

He slid his hands to the top of her chest and ripped the dress from its neck to its hemline. He spun her around, peeled it away from her body and then let go. She fell backwards into the mud just as he disappeared back behind the sheets of rain.

Calling out from beyond the roaring abyss, “Your time starts now.”

Originally published at https://michaelformanevil.substack.com.