A Tiny Bit of Fiction

The Day I Met a Black, Hairy, Fanged Beast in the Rainforest

I was powerless to resist him.

It was a rainy afternoon like many others here in the rainforest.

It was not drizzly or pelting but fell with a steady dismal dripping. I found my anxiety growing as I peered out the window of my small home. Compelled to escape my sense of foreboding, I donned my raincoat and boots and walked quickly to the road to dispel the mood.

I felt drawn towards the quieter end of the neighborhood, a strange calm overtaking me as my pace settled into a steady gait. The only sounds were the squish of boots on wet pavement and the rustle of trees and bushes as the raindrops made their way gradually to the moss of the forest floor. I pushed on as my mind emptied itself of all thoughts.

How long I walked in this state I cannot say.

I was startled back to awareness by a small eddy of wind. The course of its movement stirred the Kahili ginger to motion as though it were clapping to gain my attention. It was there between the clumps of overgrown ginger that I spotted the gravel of a drive leading through the hapu’u fern and ohia trees hung heavy with vines. At the end was a small cottage that I had never noticed before.

I stared, feeling the prickle of chicken skin on my arms, legs, and neck. A feeble cry came from the front door, which was slightly ajar. “Help me! For the love of God, someone help me!” Stepping onto the front lanai, I approached the door. The mat read,

“Dog’s welcome, people tolerated.”

I leaned toward the open door and called. “Hello? Where are you?”

The voice grew louder. “Inside! Inside! I can’t get loose! Help me!”

I removed my boots, according to Hawaiian custom, before stepping in and peering around the door. I found myself in a tidy but dusty kitchen. The calendar on the wall read, “April 1986”.

“Quickly! I’m in the front room!” croaked the voice.

I passed through the nearby doorway, unsure what I would find. Gazing around the room, I was shocked to find the owner of the voice sitting in a reclining chair encased in vining plants. I drew near in amazement and could just make out an emaciated human form encapsulated in the center of this living mass of plant life.

The parts I could see, face, forearms, and toes, were so thin the bones nearly showed through the pale, gray skin. In the crook of one arm was a lidded crock. “How long have you been here neighbor?” I asked.

“Oh, it seems like years!” the figure moaned. I still could not determine whether the captive figure was male or female, so thin was its voice and face.

“What is your name and how did you come to be in this sorry state?”

“My name is Vincent, and I will tell you, but first you must promise to release me,” he pleaded.

“Of course, I’ll release you. Don’t be silly.” Was he mad?

“Swear to it!”

“I swear, my friend.”

“And what is YOUR name?”

“Michael.”

“Swear on your mother’s life, Michael.”

“I swear on my mother’s life. Now let’s get you free and find you some medical care.” With that, I drew a pocket knife out of my pants and began to cut away the vines from Vincent’s shoulders and arms. But as quickly as I cut, new vines wound their way around him and took their place. Startled, I stepped back. “What the…I’ve NEVER seen anything grow so fast! Holy mother of God, what are they?”

“If I knew, Michael, I might have escaped years ago. Oh dear, oh dear!”

“Years? What do you mean, YEARS?” I tried not to show my panic. “When did this start?”

“April 6th of 1986.”

“That’s not possible.” The current year is 2022 but my mind flew back to the sight of the calendar in the kitchen. Could it be true? “How old are you?” I would think him senile if not for the vines.

But they were REAL.

“I was thirty when I sat down, but I’ve lost track of time. What year is it, Michael?”

“2022. That would make you sixty-six.” He does seem old and thin, I thought. But wait a minute, a question formed on my lips. “What have you eaten all this time?”

“I eat cookies out of the crock, but only when I’m desperate. If you open it, there are consequences,” he whispered looking around in fear.

“What consequences? And how have you not used everything in the crock?” I tried to look closer at the crock, but he pulled it tightly to himself.

“It’s enchanted,” said Vincent, he giggled, his hold on sanity becoming thinner by the minute. “I can eat out of it when I want or put it down when I want, but then the creature appears.”

“Creature?” the hairs on my neck prickled.

“It’s covered with black wavy hair, all over its body, and huge fangs and claws, and breath so foul it gags you. Its golden glowing eyes stare right through you, and it makes you do terrible things. It’s horrible! And it’s all because of this crock.

If I open it, it comes and if I try to put it down to escape the vines, it comes. I’m only safe if I hold the crock tightly. Without it, I’m sure to be a goner. Beware, it sometimes appears without warning! And no one can resist its commands. Others have come and tried to help me, but they all failed.”

I looked at Vincent again, quite sure he was completely bonkers.

As I stood contemplating what to do, I saw him look past me, eyes going wide, and he began to whimper. The smell of rotten milk and wet blankets reached my nostrils. Slowly I turned and there, standing in the open door to the back lanai, was the creature.

“Vincent, Vincent, Vincent,” it growled, “what have we here?”

“Ju..just a neighbor stopping by to call,” Vincent whined.

“I hope you haven’t been spreading tales. You are still guarding my crock I see.”

“Yes of course,” he held it up as proof.

I watched all this in horror, realizing everything he had told me about the vines, the year, the crock, and the creature must all be true. That meant I MUST HAVE THAT CROCK FOR MY OWN SAFETY! And with that thought, I reached out and grabbed the crock from his hands.

“EEeekkkk! Give me back the crock — give it back now!”

I held it closely so no one could take it. The golden eyes of the creature looked to be smiling if that were possible. “Look who has the crock now Vincent. Are you sure you’ve kept our secret — hmm? It paced back and forth on all four legs. “What to do, what to do…” he fixed his eyes on Vincent’s. “SPEAK!” he gave the command.

“Yes, yes, I told him!” Vincent cried and suddenly grimaced at what he’d said. The creature clapped his clawed paws together and gave another command. “PLAY DEAD.”

With that, Vincent’s eyes rolled back, and he rested his head against the chair. The vines came to life and quickly wrapped him up in a green leafed cocoon and drew him down, down, down into the seat cushion until both the cocoon and all the vines disappeared. With that, the creature turned his attention to me.

“SIT!” My legs were compelled to walk towards the chair and turning, I sat down. “NOW. GIVE. ME. A. COOKIE!” At the sound of his growl, I opened the crock and took out a cookie and began to hand it to him, but when I looked up again, all I saw was a normal-looking black-haired dog, smiling at me.

It quickly ate the cookie and headed for the door. It looked back briefly and said, “Thanks for the treat, Michael,” before trotting away into the trees.

I looked down to see the vines had encased me. All but my face, forearms, and feet. I have a feeling I might be here for a while.