Dreams and Legends Read online

  "Good, because it's happening."

  "In that case, I'm turning in for the night." Carter finished his beer, crushed the can, and tossed it into the fire. Sam put the fire out, and they both climbed into the tent for the night.

  A few hours of drunk sleep later, Sam woke. Her bladder had decided some things were more important than rest. She dressed quickly, the bare minimum to avert the inevitable onslaught of mosquitoes, and slipped out of the tent without waking Carter. She walked quickly to the outside edge of their clearing, and relieved herself.

  When she re-entered the campsite proper, she froze. Across from her stood a massive animal. It was like a buck, but glowed bright white and stood on its hind legs. A deer skull covered its face like a mask, making the massive pair of antlers it sported appear like uninterrupted bone from one side to the other. It seemed to blur with each slow, surreal motion; raising its human-like hands it gestured at Sam, beckoning her to follow it north. It turned and walked, now preternaturally fast, away into the woods.

  Sam stood there, shaking for a moment. Then she screamed. "Carter!"

  The next day they went on their hike as planned. Carter had been dismissive about what she'd seen; he wrote it off as seeing a deer, half-asleep and half-buzzed from the beer she'd had before they went to bed. Sam insisted they head north for their hike, though.

  She knew what she had seen, and despite the terror felt drawn to the north. Further up the mountain. Following the mysterious beast. These were imperatives.

  They carried their backpacks, not stopping for most of the day. Carter struggled to keep up with Sam's pace, going through brush, eschewing hiking trails. There was an internal compass she followed, till they finally came to a flat, grassy area hidden in the trees on the side of the mountain. It was large, much larger than their campsite. Massive stone obelisks formed a circle around a deep pond at the center. The location and stillness of the glade was unusual, to the point of making Carter uneasy. There were no animals, no birds nearby. The normal, quiet, dynamic of the forest seemed silenced here.

  The bones in the woods made the noise. It echoed, and snapped. The ground below pond cracked, knocking Sam and Carter to the ground. As the water in the pond drained, a stone table was slowly exposed. It was made from a rose-red granite, the size of a car resting on four spherical legs the size of fifty-five gallon drums.

  Carter stood up. "Sam, are you okay?" She was transfixed, looking in the direction of the table. Carter followed her gaze, and saw the beast standing on the table. It was about three times the size that Sam remembered from the previous night, standing with its arms outstretched towards them.

  Carter screamed and ran.

  Sam began walking toward it.

  By the time the Carter reached their campsite it was dark. He'd run the entire way back. At the center of their clearing, the fire crackled with a figure to its side in a large fur robe sitting on a log. Carter couldn't see its face.

  "Get away from our campsite!" Carter yelled at the figure. It shuffled, and tended to the fire with a stick.

  In a wispy voice, it said, "Come sit by the fire with me. The fire is safety."

  Carter was hesitant, but did what the figure asked. The facts of the situation were beginning to sink in; the mysterious beast had not been a fiction made from booze and sleepiness in Sam's mind. And he'd just effectively abandoned her. What kind of shitty person was he...

  The figure by the fire interrupted his thoughts. "There are pacts, older than us. Contracts older than mankind. The bones... they cry out for tribute."

  "Tribute?"

  "They cry out for tribute, and the girl has been chosen by the Wild. You must do what has to be done."

  "What's that?"

  The figure seemed to melt into the darkness, leaving behind a knife made of bronze with a bone hilt. Carved into its blade was an image of the sun, either setting or rising. He couldn't tell which.

  He grabbed up the knife and started walking back to the stone table.

  By the time he returned to the glade it had begun to sprinkle. Storm clouds rolled in, obscuring the moon and stars suspended in the night sky. The Wild stood by the table, its tall antlers reaching into the sky towards the rain clouds, while Sam sat in the table's center. He raced towards them, pursued by a thunderclap.

  The rain had begun to pour as he reached Sam. She spoke first, yelling through the storm, "The Wild told me. It told me what's going on, and what will happen if you don't kill me."

  "I'm not going to kill you. There was an old man in our camp, and he said I should do the same thing. I'm not going to do it."

  "You have to. I can't do it, and neither can the Wild. It has to be you. The thing needs a tribute. It's the only way to keep the thing from coming through."

  "What thing?"

  Sam gestured at the fissure that had allowed the water to drain from the pond. A giant, lidless eye looked up at them. Its pupil was the size of a boulder, and the deep green veins that moved along its white were as thick as Carter's arms.

  Carter looked back at Sam. "I'm not going to make you a sacrifice." Without hesitation, he plunged the dagger into his own chest through his shirt. His blood drenched the table, and was slowly washed off in diluted drops by the rain.

  Sam put her face in her hands. The Wild boomed, "Fool. The pact is now broken." It disappeared, leaving Sam weeping.

  The bones raised their mighty skeletal hands, splitting the earth above it, and casting the table aside with no resistance. The thing pulled itself out of the mountain to reclaim its place after millennia of imprisonment.

  The Trouble With Bears

  In ancient Babylon, a city had worshiped it as a god. It had arisen, whole and powerful! It had arisen, hungry and lustful! It had arisen!

  Joe from animal control knelt down, and peered around the edge of the brick building. His knee sank into the mud, messing up his khaki pants. Quietly he cursed, then went back to observing the creature.

  It was about three yards tall at the shoulder, and half its body was fanged mouth. Its rough skin with erratic patches of hair gave it the appearance of giant sick, highly disproportionate dog. Or something like that. He couldn't be sure.

  He tipped his aviator sunglasses, and put his hand to his mouth in thought, covering his handlebar mustache. He always got the weird ones. The monster bit down on "Children At Play" sign on the side of the road, and began to start chewing on it with its massive jaws.

  "Shiiiit." Joe pulled back behind the corner of the library and crouched down in the grass and mud. He pulled out his cell phone, and looked at. He had to call Willard. This was a big one.

  Calls to Willard never went well.

  He dialed the number for the office.

  Back at the office, Willard set down his donut and picked up the phone. "Middle Town Animal Control. This is Willard Thompson."

  "Hey, Will..." It was Joe.

  Willard frowned. "What is it Joe?" Joe was always calling about stupid. Stupid stuff he'd done, stupid questions, stupid requests.

  "Will, I'm at the site for the bear report we got in. It's not a bear... looks more like a dog. And it's fucking huge, man."

  "Yeah?" Willard was unimpressed.

  "Oh yeah. Like, huge. I don't know what to do."

  Willard rubbed his hand against his forehead. Willard wasn't a likable man, but neither was Joe really. "Joe, you know why I don't fire you?"

  Crouched outside the library, Joe hung his head. "Why Will?"

  "Because the Lord rewards a daily act of charity. Now do your damn job." Willard hung up, and cursed under his breath.

  Joe stood up, and tried to brush the mud off his pants. It was wet, though, and all he managed to do was smear it further and cover his hand. "Shit." He spit on the ground.

  Gorath finished eating the sign. It was good, but not nearly as delicious as the children it had encountered when it had first come out of the abandoned mine at the edge of the town. It was still hungry, though. It had been trapped a ver
y long time.

  Joe walked over to the Animal Control van. Open the back doors, "Where's that damn tranq gun?" he asked himself. That thing was going down.

  Gorath sniffed along the ground. He remembered the hunters that had trapped him. Millennia ago, they could not kill him. He was Gorath, Hound of the Dark Places, Devourer of Souls! They could not kill him, only trap him underground. He travelled for a long time, until he came to the portal.

  Joe stepped out from behind the brick building, raised his rifle, and fired. The dart hit Gorath in the side.

  Hunters!

  The monster turned and screamed with rage, its enormous mouth opening wide with teeth and nightmares. Joe froze for a second and dropped the gun.

  Gorath charged the fool who had cast the dart into his side.

  "Fuck!" Joe started running, ducking behind the library, then running down a side street. He could hear it behind him, each footfall like a small earthquake. He made a right into an alleyway, and dove into a metal garbage dumpster. His face landed in a half-open plastic trash bag of old food. He lay there for a minute, trying to stay quiet, resisting vomiting from the smell of garbage and mold.

  It seemed like he was there for an eternity.

  When he felt that it was safe, he climbed out, and threw up on himself. A dishwasher came out from the restaurant that owned the dumpster, and lit up a cigarette. "Hey, you! What the hell are you doing in that dumpster."

  Joe looked down at his shirt, then flipped off the dishwasher. "Fuck you."

  ~ ~ ~

  Later that night, Joe stared into his beer bottle. He'd called in for the rest of the day, and got chewed out by Willard when "the bear ran away." Now he sat at his favorite bar, in his favorite band tee-shirt and ripped up blue jeans, with a fresh red mark across his face.

  The bartender dried a glass. Joe looked up at him, "My luck can't change today." Sam set down the glass, and started drying another. "Nothing about luck, Joe. I'm surprised she didn't send you out of here on a gurney."

  "What'd I say?"

  "Everything. You're casually sexist, casually racist, and bitch constantly. You're a dick, Joe."

  "Today was just a rough day at work, is all. Gimme another beer, Sam."

  Sam put the glass down and opened another bottle on the counter. Joe picked it up, and took a drink. "She was a bitch anyway."

  Sam sighed and went back to his glasses.

  Joe's cell phone rang, and he answered. "You God damn idiot," said the voice on the other end.

  It was Willard.

  "What now?"

  "I just got a call. Another call about the bear you were supposed to take care of."

  "I'm sick," Joe said, and he took a sip from his beer.

  "I don't care if you're at the hospital. It just attacked someone. Git your butt out by the Turner farm and catch that damn thing." Willard hung up.

  Joe looked at the phone. "Lazy fuck." He rubbed his mustache and finished his beer. He was stopping at home before he went out to the farm.

  He looked over at Sam. "This is going to turn out just like that troll-thing. Everyone thought it was a bear, too. It wasn't no bear. I took care of it, and what happened? I got chewed out."

  Sam shook his head. "Trolls don't exist, Joe."

  Joe scowled and got up to leave.

  "Hey, Joe."

  Joe turned around and looked at Sam, still angry. Nothing was going right. "What?"

  "You still need to pay your tab."

  ~ ~ ~

  Gorath had scared the weak hunter, and then left. It had always had luck in the fields, where the meek that tended them often lived. They were easy to catch, easy to feed upon.

  One had managed to evade him, but soon it would get them, get them all. It stood at the farmhouse, and screamed out a blood curdling shriek.

  Joe pulled up in the white Animal Control van. He hadn't bothered changing at home. Instead, he'd grabbed his hunting rifle and a few grenades he'd bought from a friend to use while fishing.

  He tossed on a hunting vest, put the grenades and more ammunition in the pockets, and grabbed the rifle. He could see the silhouette of the beast in the distance outside the house.

  Time to take care of this, he thought. He walked towards it, tripping on the edge of the road, falling, and accidentally firing off a shot from his rifle. With the distant sound of shattering glass, it echoed across the field, through the night.

  Gorath heard the hunter's weapon. The loud report grabbed its attention. It spun around, faster than something its size should have. It saw the hunter, sprawled out on the ground. The fool.

  Joe saw the creature face him. "Shit." He pulled the gun into place, bracing it to fire while he lay on the ground. It charged him, opening its mouth wide to scoop him up in its massive jaws. He fired.

  Gorath felt pain shoot down its throat. It snapped its mouth shut, and continued the charge. The hunter sat up, and tried to brace himself. Gorath hit him, knocking across him up and across the road. Pain seized Gorath, and it stopped.

  It knew it had to get to safety, back to the mines.

  It turned and ran.

  Joe sat up. He felt like something was broken. He saw the monster running into the woods surrounding the farm. Hobbling, he followed it across the field and through the woods.

  The pain inside it...it was a reminder. Gorath charged through the woods. If it had not been so deeply internal he would have stayed and fought, but this he would need time to recover from. It was stronger, more troublesome than a simple shard of metal. He could be patient. He could heal, then return.

  The pain invigorated him, though. It reminded him of battles in the distant past. Swords sticking out of his thick skin as he devoured warriors in their armor. The taste of warrior blood. He ran faster.

  Stumbling through the woods, Joe followed the path of destruction the dog-bear-thing had left. It had long gone out of sight, but its movements through the woods were obvious. After about a half-hour of tracking, Joe came to a clearing, with an old mine entrance.

  The mine had at one time been the primary source of work for the town, but it was long abandoned. Rumors of it opening a cave system filled with devils, or a gate to Hell opening up and swallowing miners swirled through the last century as rumor and legend. Joe didn't believe any of it. It probably just went dry, like mines were apt to do.

  The doors were broken down. There were other entrances which were watched by police and kept padlocked, but this one must have been forgotten. He pulled out a flashlight that he kept linked onto his key chain.

  Walking , slowly, he followed the prints in the dirt. Down one tunnel, through another. As he walked along a cart track-way, he saw in the distance two glowing eyes.

  Gorath saw the flashlight in the distance. It knew it had to lead the bearer of the light away from the portal. It stood up, and galloped down a side tunnel. At the end of the passageway, it knew it could corner and kill the hunter.

  Joe approached the new tunnel way, and heard its footsteps echoing down deeper in the mine. He looked at the old mine supports. The wood seemed sturdy enough, but Joe knew you couldn't trust it. "Fuck it." He took one of the grenades from his pocket, armed the old piece of military surplus, and threw it down the passage.

  When it went off, it shook the mine and collapsed the tunnel. He ran as best as he could with a broken rib, trying to escape the cloud of dust and debris. He didn't succeed. He emerged from the mine, covered in dust and coughing. "Damn dog."

  Hobbling back to the truck, he called Willard at home. "Got it boss."

  "Good. Make sure you bring the body in tomorrow. I heard you brought your rifle with you. And you owe Allan a new barn window, you idiot."

  "Got it boss." Joe hung up this time. Willard wasn't getting his body, and Allan wasn't getting a new window. The hell with them. Joe drove to the hospital.

  Gorath rested in the tunnel. When he was restored, he would find a way out. He was patient, and had dealt with hunters before.

  For The
Loss Of A Rose

  Bone Teeth looked at Gobble Dawn with forlorn eyes, all weeping and looking for answers. Gobble Dawn was going to have none of it. The rose was dead. They'd watched it die. No amount of sadness was going to bring it back.

  Bone Teeth shambled and shook in place, the rags that covered his carapace shifting uneasily across his body. "The Chief Engineer take us."

  Gobble Dawn shook its heads. It wore ornate robes, black embroidered like the night sky and constantly shifting, in transition. "Come now, what's done is done. It's only the first sign. And you can not tell me that you did not anticipate that this day would come."