Hunting You, Hunting Me (Watty Awards 2012)

Chapter 9

A big thank you to ShaneChowdery for helping me with the gory and graphic description of the corpse. He is a very talented writer who writes short horror stories; so if that is your thing do check it out.  Although, I don’t recommend you eat while reading his work. ; ) Also I just uploaded two chapters at once so make sure you read chapter 8 before you read this.

All Rights Reserved © 2012

not edited

Chapter 9

If it weren’t for the simple fact that a group of boys are trying to hunt me I would be whistling a jovial tune as I walk. My hands are on the straps of my backpack filled with what one would think was Moctezuma’s treasure, judging by the size of the grin I have on my face.

I had slept well last night. The hooded blanket was as cosy if not cosier than my lilac duvet at home. Not really, but it helps to be positive, right?  My stomach is sated with a breakfast of banana and a handful of trail mix. Not what I would have picked if I had the luxury, but I had chosen the banana because it would spoil soon, and the trail mix because it was making the backpack a little heavy. I had even used the toilet paper this morning and it felt as good as it looked. I was as happy as one could be, in a situation like this.

In retrospect, I should have known better.  What is that saying? Oh yes, there is always a calm before the storm, right?

As I walk through the forest, I feel like I am being watched. I can’t hear anything out of the ordinary except the beating of my own heart. I shrug my shoulders and continue forward. It seems like my migraine is back. Noises seem louder to me and my vision grows stronger for a few seconds before it becomes blurry again.  

I stop and unzip my backpack, pulling out the Gatorade and taking a few sips. I need to make sure I am not dehydrated. I pack up and continue forward. The pain is worsening so I use my fingers to massage my forehead and my temple. My foot hits something and I find myself in a brief hover before colliding with the cold and hard soil.

Ugh! I should really watch where I’m going, I scold myself. I must have tripped...on a tree root?  I right myself and rotate my field of vision to look behind me and...Oh God... the forest is suddenly immersed into silence except for the steady buzz of feasting flies.

These insects are minuscule but possess an enormous appetite as they savor the rotting body that lies before me. It is the body of...a girl? I honestly cannot tell, for the appearance of the corpse is beyond recognition. The decay has manipulated the skin and muscle to liquefy and slowly drip from the bones in thick streams of unsettling death.

My vision is utterly disgusted by the sight, and as for my sense of smell...the cadaver has implanted its revolting odor deep within my nostrils, so deep that I can feel the sour scent scraping upon my brain. I simply want to scream. And I try to, but my first attempts are only pathetic choking noises that are a result of the smell and being held captive by the tremendous shock.

I want to get out of here, believe me I do...it’s just that the scene is so horrific that it has committed a ruthless thievery of my senses. As my body processes the shock and deals with the trauma I am slowly able to move. I walk backwards shaking violently. I am about to lose the priceless banana, trail mix and Gatorade I had consumed earlier. I force myself to swallow the bile that is steadily rising in my throat but I cannot hang on to it any longer. I shove my head into a bush and retch.

It is only seconds—or perhaps minutes—until my brain begins to conjure up the possibilities. This body most likely belonged to a person of my age and gender, a scene of which I can very well become the victim of...this is no joke; this is real.  

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