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THE BEAST: A SEQUEL
By: Wayne Brown
Writer’s Note: This story is a sequel to the original entitled “A Cabin in the Woods” which I published at Halloween 2010. If you have not read the original, please do so at this time by following this link: http://waynebrown.hubpages.com/hub/A-CABIN-IN-THE-WOODS
I think you will think appreciate this story much more. Thanks.)
As a writer, I have studied the beast; researched the subject for months on end. I have learned much but the over-riding facts which haunt my mind are not buried deeply in the detail. They are there on the surface from the very beginning. The beast is perpetual; it never goes away as long as the spirit which it occupies is drawing a living breathe. As much as I despise the beast, I cannot bring myself to the level of thinking about self-destruction. Though I surely deserve to die for all the horror the beast has brought into my life, I cannot face it coming at my own hand.
I often think back to my younger days as a writer when I owned a small cabin in a forested area south of the city. It was there that I first encountered the beast. It was on a moonlit night there that the beast chased me through the forest as I ran for my car to make my escape. Up to the point, if someone suggested the existence of a werewolf to me, I laughed out loud at the prospect. I did not believe in such things. I was too much of a realist. That single night in the forest changed all of that. I almost got away and would have had I not turned my ankle on a tree root. That small delay allowed the beast to close the gap as I limped into my car for the escape. I still remember the terror I felt when I actually saw this hideous creature with my own eyes. I still see those eyes and the warped shape of an overgrown man with features and hair of the wolf. I also remember the relief when it fell from my speeding car onto the highway. The relief was only temporary as the beast had drawn my blood by that point and I was infected.
The rear foot of the beast had crashed through my side window, it claws ripping my cheek on the way. The scratches were deep and bloody. The wounds were a long time healing. I told my friends that I had attempted to walk from the cabin to the car in the dark and encounter a low-hanging tree limb which cut deeply into my face. The explanation was never questioned. Why would it be? There was no reason to suspect anything else.
I never returned to the cabin. I thought about selling it then remembered the beast had roamed those woods. I could not purposely bring myself to sell it to anyone who might suffer the same fate as I simply by making the purchase. I just threw the keys in a drawer and forgot the place was there. I left it to rot and fall down from neglect for I could never bring myself to return to that place. I could never imagine facing such a horror again. That was before I realized that I had been infected by the beast.
Time past and I fell back into my routine of writing slowly filing away the horror of my experience in the deep reaches of my mind. Summer came and went; then the early fall season was upon us. Winter came early with the first snow coming in late October. Little did I know that horror was close behind as the Halloween season approached in the city.
It was the first day of a full-moon cycle. I had felt at odds with nature the entire day; a restlessness which I had not ever experienced. I could not seem to focus on my writing nor could I find anything which would hold my attention for any extended period. As darkness fell upon the land, the restlessness became worse and my ability to think and reason seemed all but stunned. Then the transformation began. At first, I thought that I was dying, there was no other explanation. Then, before my eyes, my body began a slow expansion of muscles, claws, teeth, hair…a hideously slow transformation. I ran to the mirror and was able to witness it all for a while until the animal instincts of the beast took over my mind and things went blank.
When the transformations come as they do on their lunar cycle of the full moon, the signs are there. I have come to recognize them like the approach of a seasonal cold on the average person. The symptoms and feelings are the same with each cycle. Having learned the signs, I began to think of controlling the beast. I began to devise methods to keep this creature of death from his rounds. I attempted cages, chains, locked doors; anything that held promise. In the end, all of it failed. The creature destroyed everything it was placed into leaving only the evidence of the destruction for me to find the next day. It was then that I came to realize that I did not control the beast; the beast controlled me and always would.
Once the cycle has passed, I remember nothing of the exploits of the beast. I see news stories on television and in the newspapers which I feel certain are related to the actions of the beast for there seems no other viable explanation to the deaths of the victims. At the same time, while that makes sense to me, the average person on the street rejects the thought and looks for anything that will provide a rational explanation of the deaths. Like me at one time, the average person laughs at the thought of the reality of a creature like the werewolf. In their mind, they do not exist except in the fictional imagination of the writer. They tell themselves that and they want so much to believe it even when the facts of the existence are there in the horror before their eyes.
It has been five years now; five long years of full moon cycles; five long years of the beast. How much death, destruction, and horror could such a creature reap in that length of time. It does not seem to weaken in its strength or desire. Each passing of the full moon only seems to bring a deeper hunger in the beast for blood and death. The nights that it roams are extremely violent. The beast has no thought of itself thus I retained many of the cuts, bruises, and injuries it incurs on its journey of the night. All of these I have to explain away to friends with remarks which allow them to believe because, in the end, they want to believe that there is a rational explanation, there’s no reason not to believe.
I never know where the beast will leave me. It seldom returns home for the transformation as it has no ability to plan or reason. I awake in back alleyways, on riverbanks, and in railroad yards. I can only imagine that at some point the beast must tire and stops to rest not knowing that morning will soon come and begin the transformation once more from beast to man. In many ways, the beast leaves me feeling like a homeless person. Six months ago, a small town police officer found me under a railroad car. I was naked. He took me to jail and booked me for public lewdness. The beast returned the next night. The jail was left in shambles and two officers were killed in the process. The next morning I awoke on a riverbank outside the city. I managed to navigate my way home with only an old blanket wrapped about me.
The actions of the beast would lead back to me sooner or later. I knew that but was paralyzed to do anything effective about it. But I knew that it would come somehow. It came with a gentle knock at my door. I opened it to find two uniformed police officers standing there. They explained to me that they were instructed to take me down town for questioning. I played along telling them that I could not imagine what this might be about stating that I had no prior record of incidence with the law. None other than the small town lockup a few months back but I did not figure that was worth mentioning.
Once downtown, a detective sat me down for questioning once the fingerprinting and preliminaries were over. He explained to me that the arrest which I had experienced in the small town nearby had produced some evidence links which were quite troubling but extremely serious. He reminded me that one of the officers on the arrest had noticed blood on and under my fingernails while doing the fingerprinting. DNA samples had been taken. Suddenly I remembered the officer mentioning that to me at the time but I was far too distracted with the beast to give it any consideration. The detective explained to me that the DNA matched that found at a number of crime scenes throughout the city; crime scenes in which victims had been murdered and tortured in animalistic ways. At that point, he read me my rights and locked me up as a prime suspect in the investigation. My attorney attempted to secure my release but a judge overruled the effort on the basis of the extreme nature of the case and the DNA evidence. I was deemed a flight risk and held without bail basically charged with the murder of as of yet unnamed victims.
For almost a month I remained in that jail cell awaiting my fate. In the back of my mind, I knew nothing could save me from a DNA conviction. The evidence was far too strong. The beast had incriminated me and would now make sure that I was convicted. A part of me was relieved in that I thought the beast could now be contained; caged and hidden from the public and then possibly destroyed upon discovery. I longed for the beast to come so that the end come finally come.
The beast did return as the moon came into lunar full cycle. It must have come though I have no memory of it being there. I do remember having my symptoms of transformation then everything went blank. I awoke in a bar ditch in my typical naked state. A dead man lay nearby ripped into multiple parts with his entire throat ripped out. I took his clothes as I knew he would never need them again. I climbed up from the bar ditch and made my way to the road walking southbound. I soon came upon a small convenience store and made my way to the counter. I fished around in the pockets of my stolen pants and found a few dollars. I bought a cup of coffee and talked with the man at the counter. Soon, he had sketched out a crude map on a table napkin showing me how to get to Route 61 south. I finally knew what I had to do.
The police would be crawling all over the city looking for me there. I could only imagine what must have happened at the city jail when the beast appeared. Since my freedom was secured, I had to believe that the beast had torn free of the cell and killed its way from the jail building only to begin it’s nighttime horrors. The strength of such a beast; one could only be in awe of it. I tried to imagine the horror of the police officers on duty when they first witnessed this monster. I can only think that they must have been paralyzed by the sight of it.
I hitch-hiked and walked my way back down Route 61 until I came to the familiar turn off which made its way down a small grassy lane to a wooded area. I walked the lane and found the path leading into the deep woods. I followed it and soon the cabin was in my sights. I had finally come back to it. For now, it was a sanctuary though it struck horror in my heart. If my plans proceeded correctly, it would eventually lead to my demise and the end of the beast. For you see, I knew another beast roamed this area and I am counting on it to look for me eventually. I write this with the faith that I know that it will come and bring the peace which I so desire.
“That’s it, Pete,” The detective said laying the papers back onto the small table in the cabin. “This guy was a writer you know?” The detective continued.
“He had one damn fine imagination too, huh, Derrick?” Pete, the second detective replied. “Can you imagine that he made all this crap up then just left it here?” He added
“Well, I don’t think he just left it here. He was out here because he knew we were looking for him. He was hiding. After that killing spree he went on down at the jail, its no wonder. This guy was one sick bastard, writer or not, Pete,” Derrick responded. “Anybody who could do what he did to those folks at the jail is one sick bastard.”
“Yeah, too bad that pack of wolves got him before we did. I guess he didn’t count on encountering anything like that out here, huh, Derrick?” Pete said.
“Guess not, no sir, I guess not,” Derrick replied. “He got more than he bargained for I am thinking. Only a pack of wolves could do such damage. Poor bastard.”
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