They Are Watching...

I thought it would never end. Jeoffrey and I were out checking our snares, as we do every evening. Tonight, we were the prey. The night air was damp, and stank of moist fronds – the usual bouquet of this oppressive jungle. As we approached our favorite trapper’s hole, Jeoff spied movement in the undergrowth. Excited by the prospect of fresh meat for the markets, he rushed on ahead. Weary from the day’s labors, I lagged behind. Trapped on this island for so many years, I find I can no longer muster the enthusiasm of a fresh castaway. As he reached the edge of the briars, a shadow fell across him. Terrified, I cried out in warning! But I knew as soon as the words left my lips, I was already too late. The brush parted, and standing in the gap was a gigantic creature, with a face not quite like a man’s. Shocked and confused, poor Jeoffrey did not even scream. His breathless, terrified gasp was likely the last sound he made as the beast took hold of him. I am ashamed, but I made not even a token attempt to save him from oblivion. Unmanned by my fright, I scrambled off the path until I found a bolthole within a hollow tree. There, I listened. To the sound of bones and sinews snapping. To the rustle of brush and pounding of earth, as my friend’s body was rent apart. And to the sharp, shallow rhythm of my own breath, as I prayed the musk of the junk would mask my own scent and spare me the cruel fate of my fellow.