Cryptids, Kaiju & Creeps- Hexenwood by Philip Grippi

In the back of the car they slept. They were twins. A sister and brother; 9 years of age. The girl, whose name was Ramona, was dreaming and unperturbed by the rough conditions of the road. Rather than on the road towards their aunts house to stay for next few weeks, she imagined herself at sea. An oceanic voyage in search of adventure. Not about fancy ship, but a raft of her own making. At sea she wore boots with comfortable trousers and a loosely-fitting Iron Man tee shirt she had stolen from her brother. In the passenger-side back seat of their father's old station wagon: buckle up flats and lavender dress with flowers on it. Across the leather-lined bench that was the backseat, sandwiched behind their father whose height necessitated that the seat be pushed back as far as it can go, was Ramona's younger brother by 3 minutes. His name was Syd and he slept dreamlessly, which was exactly how he liked it. While his sister had fallen asleep hours ago, he had just recently managed to wedge himself into a comfortable enough position. Of course, that didn't stop him from pretending to sleep, so that he would not have to talk to his father. At moment unknown to him, despite his perceived clarity of mind, time washed away like the tides upon the shore, and his senses became dulled to the what transpired around him. He’s knows not what happened during this dream like lapse in spatial awareness, but soon the feeling that change had occurred took hold him. He jerked back to a form of reality, but perhaps not the one he knew. There was no jostling or vibrating of speeding car well past it’s viable years. The car was stopped. The light of the sun was gone, it’s absence giving way to the dark overcast of thick fog caressing the windows, a void of smoky grey lay outside in all directions.

Ramona still slept next to him, but then he noticed the main absence of concern was the not the momentum of forward motion, or the road or even the sun...but that of his father, for the siblings were the all that remained of the three, secluded in the back seat of the car. A creeping shudder took hold of his body. His throat tightened as his eyes peer desperately into the dense fog in search of something, anything familiar. His mouth hung open, sound trying to claw its way out, but being pulled back in by the dire nature of his circumstances.

“Ra...Ramona,” he finally managed to croak out. “RAMONA.” But Ramona doesn’t answer. He frantically unfastened his seatbelt and reached out for Ramona. Taking her shoulder, he shook her hastily. “RAMONA! PLEASE. You need to wake up!” But she would not wake. He felt life in her, her eyes fluttered beneath their lids in wistful grip of REM sleep, but also something deeper. An influence of something beyond Syd’s understanding. He shook her still, calling her name in vain, until he was afraid he might hurt her. That’s when he heard it. The knocking. A knocking against the glass.

Syd froze, afraid to move a muscle. Then, slowly he turned his head, his sight going in and out of focus as sheer unyielding panic tightened around his heart. He saw nothing. At least, not anything that could have knocked. He did, however, see that the fog was clearing. And what he saw through it’s dissipating vapors was green. The rich, dark green of foliage. The rigid figures of towering oaks penetrated the waning grey. Creeping vines climbed the trunks, reaching higher and higher beyond Syd’s view from where he sat. He looked out his window, keeping his distance from the glass, rooted the middle cushion of the backseat. His head darted back forth between views through his window, and through the front and rear windshields. Forest. All around him, forest, and no road to speak of. Then the knocking came again, this time from the roof. Three slow, weighted taps against the cold steel directly above Syd’s head. Then again, but further across the roof towards the window. Something screeched and it slid across. Something was up there moving around. Tap. Tap. Tap. Then his gaze fell on the passenger side rear window next to wear he had sat. And he saw it. A dark, murky brown hand with tinges of green. Rough and brittle in texture. Almost wooden, knotted and cracking. Five king digits stretched out from the palm, pointed and jagged. Then the hand curled into slowly into a fist and knocked on the glass three times before darting back up out of view.

A sharp, cold dread dug deep into Syd’s nervous system. His mouth went dry and tasted of copper and his frame began to shake. A deep, violent shake from far within. Every inch of him trembling, inside and out. His eyes rolled up in his sockets, shifting his gaze back up the roof, and there it stayed for what felt like an eternity before he dared look away. He shifted his eyes forward and peered into the abyssal forest, and saw movement. Again his eyes darted around, taking in his environment, trying to make sense of the danger he felt closing in around him. Finally, he looked over his shoulder and them. Three figures, easily mistaken for trees. They were tall, stiff in posture, if a bit crooked in stance. Long arms dangled at their sides, the familiarly gnarled and jagged. Distinctly feminine in shape, with dirty tangles of oh hair sloping down around their crowns. Their skin as wood-like in texture as he saw on the hand. And their faces were pointed and angular. Dark sunken eyes beneath deep brows, and a sickly, twisted smile cutting across their mouths.

“Ramona,” Syd whispered helplessly.

Syd was about to look back out the passenger window when the overhead light turned on, the radio turned on. Donovan’s Season of the witch played.

“SO VERY STRAAAAANGE,” the lyrics blasted. “You’ve got to pick up every stitch.” Out beyond the front of the car the headlights, now on, shone brightly. The newly illuminated forest revealed more of them. Unnervingly still, smiling that smile, their eyes inky voids in the night. The song reached its crescendo.

“Syd.” Syd jerked his body around in the seat to face Ramona. Tears formed in his eyes as he saw his sisters eyes. Inky black as the night sky, the corners of her mouth stretching into a sickly, twisted grin. Syd scrambled backwards into the rear passenger door, which gave way behind him. He felt hands grip the folds of his shirt and pull him out. A world he didn’t know swirled around and he fell to the ground and was dragged across the the dirt. Twigs and leaves cracked underneath him. He twisted and kicked and flipped onto his stomach, trying to crawl away but they were upon him, dragging him back. His hands clawed the ground, pulling up dirt and grime under his fingernails. He sobbed and screamed as they pinned his arms and legs to the ground. The crowding flock that stood over him parted to the left and right, bringing Ramona into view, standing squarely before her sobbing brother. In her hands she held a strange curved knife with handle carved from an ancient, knotted looking wood that still had branch tapering off with a single leaf growing from it. Runic symbols were etched into the blade. “Welcome to Hëxenwood, little brother.”

“Please! Please Ramona don’t.” He pleaded through deep, mournful sobs, his chest heaved and the breath ran from his body as his sister was upon him, bringing the knife down into his chest.

And the world returned. The car jostled and vibrated as it careened down the highway. Syd’s erratic breathing began to slow as he took in his surroundings. He looks to the front seat and saw his dad watching the road. He looked over at Ramona, who awake and staring out the window. Syd began to relax as his mind rationalized what happened. It was a dream. That’s all it was. That’s all it could be. He looked down at his hands. Filthy, dirt and grime under his fingernails. His heart began to race again and then the sound came. Tap. Tap. Tap. He looked over at Ramona who rapping her knuckle against the window absentmindedly. She looked at him for a long moment, and she smiled.