My name is Fáinche and I'm an Irish amateur horror writer. I'm from the border in Ireland so it's rich in history and culture. I am a bird mom to 2 green cheek conures who are 5 and 8 years old and the loves of my life. I also live with my partner who introduced me to the only living animals I am not allergic to. I am working on a collection of short stories, and a novel, and I am so excited for what the future holds for me. After dealing with a few years of ill health, I am ready to kick the fear of failure to the curb and take the bull by the horns.
NEW YEARS RESOLUTION
by
Fainche Ni Dhuibhne
Twigs snapped underfoot as I wandered through the moss-floored forest. The slanted sun had sunk below the horizon an hour or so ago along with the weak heat. Frozen clouds leeched my mouth after every exhale. The worn path had disappeared long ago, the trees closer together and broader, like colluding elders. Looking up didn’t help either, the canopy of intertwined conifer needles sheltered the undergrowth from the sky. White fingertips grazed on the frost kissed bark as I passed, thoughts tumbling from my head too quickly to grasp onto a single one. The intense and sudden desire to finally do something about the vast and encapsulating emptiness that had been slowly swallowing me whole came on at the family dinner table. The overwhelming conversation about New Year’s resolutions and expectant, waiting eyes that lingered too long on my twitching lips flipped a switch in my brain that had previously lain dormant.
The oppressive silence was as unsettling as the thick darkness. Not a mouse, an owl, or a mysterious rustle apart from my own hulking form bumbling through the bracken could be heard. I toyed with the idea that I was finally alone when I heard the faintest whisper. I came to a stop, heart hammering from the laborious trek up a treacherous hill. I put a gloved hand to my chest and willed it to quieten while I focused on the intonation. It ebbed and flowed from a distant cranny. A fox den, I decided.
I rested for a moment at the top of the hill. The alcohol burned on its way down but kept the chill from slithering up my arms. Shafts of moonlight sliced through the leaves overhead as I slotted the flask in my light backpack beside the coiled woven rope. I zipped it up quickly and peered through the horde of trees.
Then I heard it again. Clearer this time. That fox was starting to sound like a baby. An image of a baby headed fox crawling towards me plagued my mind and forced me to keep moving. The forest was becoming wild and unruly. I picked my way through brambles, wincing as the thorns pricked my jeans. Beating away fans of branches, I crashed through a thin sheet of ice canvasing a narrow stream. Bubbling water broke through the cracks and shattered the silence. The air shifted and stilled, as if collectively holding a breath.
Then the tree in front of me came alive.
The bark shuddered and creaked as a clawed arm with coniferous pines sprouting like feathers sweeped at me and I crashed to the ground. The form straightened and loomed an impossible height above me. Vines snaked up elongated mottled bone and concentrated around a human ribcage. Moss and twigs nested in empty spaces, a fractured spine led to an empty socketed elk skull. Its jaw cracked as it opened its mouth and shrieked - a distorted newborn baby’s cry. Paralysed with fear, the creature swiped again, its reach too long and the sharp claws embedded in a nearby trunk, inches from my head. Bark, frost and moss exploded outwards, the debris attacking my wide, teary eyes. I scrambled to my leaden, waterlogged feet and bolted. The earth gave way and the hill I had just climbed opened up in front of me. Hitting the ground hard, my incisors sunk into the soft flesh of my tongue. Thorns tore my hands and legs as I tried to right myself, the jagged edges stinging in the freezing air. My scream was cut o abruptly as I landed in a bed of nettles with the sickening crunch. Pain ricocheted up my left arm.
All was quiet for a moment, save for the pulsating current of blood in my ears. As I got to my feet and cradled my arm, my scream repeated itself back to me from atop the hill, the cry of a baby woven through the auditory tapestry.
Adrenaline pumped through my trembling limbs and the fog that had obscured my thoughts for years evaporated. The darkness expelled from my body and through the panting and swiping of branches from my face as I ran, a strange sensation overcame my lips. A smile. Hope fluttered from a dusty cage in my chest.
Blurry eyed, the creature appeared in front of me, silhouetted in the shadows, arms outstretched in anticipation of an embrace. Unable to change direction or slow momentum, I crashed into its chest, air abandoning my lungs in the crush. White hot pain erupted from all nerve endings in my back whilst claws hooked into scapula muscle. The wet sensation resembling slicing into a watermelon made bile rise in my gasping throat. My boots kicked helplessly as I was hoisted up. Time slowed. Steam danced from the oil-like blood that dripped onto the creature’s pale bones.
Lost in the expansive void of where its eyes should have been, pain radiated through every pore. The strangest sensation plagued me from afar as my chest pulled apart in a splatter of flaccid entrails.