My dad always told me whenever I took the walk through the passage in the forest to watch out for drop bears. Making me feel relaxed when I walked through the gloom that was that past of the forest.
He was joking I know, but I wasn’t. There were things living in the trees, and they weren’t a figment of my imagination.
Several times I had encountered them. The rustle of movement above, the indiscernible scent and that terrifying sense of someone watching you.
Needless to say, my journeys to grandma’s house on the other side of the forest were always done in a hurried fashion.
Trip each day because Grandma needed seeing to as she was getting older and more and more forgetful. Mum insisted I go as she worked and I was off from school, so It made sense for me to look in on her. Grandma was always happy to see me, and though a lot slower than she once was she still loved to bake. So, there were always cakes and or biscuits to treat myself to.
Today I was feeling particularly vulnerable and kept my hood up over my head trying the ignore the sounds above me.
I could feel them getting closer and then the sensation of something around my neck. It was smooth, slimy and scary, wrapping itself around me, I could feel it constricting my breathing, and I dropped to my knees. I couldn’t fight it off, I wasn’t strong enough to stop it engulfing me.
Just as I thought the lights were going out, I hit my head against my wooden bed head.