The Howling of Hollow Creek

The storm had appeared out of nowhere. One minute, the night was quiet, and the moon cast its rays over Hollow Creek. The next, ominous clouds moved in, and rain started to fall in sheets. Garrett could hear the faint crack of distant thunder, but the air felt different tonight as if something was unwell.

He stood by the weathered wooden railing of his cabin porch, looking out over the sprawling wild growth of trees that lay beyond. A wind whistled through the trees, and for a moment, he thought he heard something other than the wind. It was a low, guttural growl—deep, primal, malevolent.

He shook his head, attempting to ignore the chill running up his spine. He had spent more than a year living in this isolated cabin, miles from the nearest town, and had learned to accept the quirks of the woods. But tonight... Tonight was different.

The howl came again, but louder this time. Garrett felt a flutter in his chest. It wasn't a wolf. He'd heard wolves before and had even glimpsed one or two by the cabin during those late-night strolls. No, this was something entirely different. The sound rolled through his bones, a strange blend of hunger and anger, and it was.. . wrong.

His curiosity overwhelmed him, and though he felt the unwilling specter of dread in the pit of his stomach, he snatched his flashlight and left the porch into the dark woods. The trees were thick with moisture, and the air was dense with the smell of wet earth. He could barely see a few feet in front of himself, but that unmistakable sensation of being watched closed in around him from all directions.

"Come on, Garrett. It's just a coyote. Or a lost dog," he murmured to himself, without believing a word of it. The howl sounded again, this time much closer. Garrett froze, and his breath hitched in his chest. It wasn't a coyote or any familiar creature. There was an intelligence to the sound, an undeniable summons of something.. . ancient.

His steps crushed the wet ground beneath him as he pressed on, deeper into the woods. Yet still, he continued, the growls and howls shifting into sounds no man could begin to fathom. Each sound felt like it made the trees ahead shiver as if the very air was heavy with premonition.

And then he saw it. Amid the trees, a flicker of motion—too quick for the human eye to track like a shadow sliding between the trunks. A low, throaty snarl reverberated from the distance, and the unmistakable sound of huge padded feet crushing the brush resonated out.

Garrett's heart raced. Whatever it was, it was nearby—very close. He was thrown backward, his flashlight clattering sharply to the ground. The beam faded away, leaving him in complete darkness. Panic clawed at him. Now he could hear breathing, heavy and labored as if something were stalking him. Then he heard the most awful sound of all: the snap of a twig.

Before he could turn to flee, a huge shape stepped out of the shadows. It was inhuman. It was twice as tall as a man, its body covered in thick, matted fur, its limbs long and clawed. The thing's face was the ugliest part—its eyes gleamed wide, burning with an unholy, evil flame, and its mouth was crammed with lines of jagged, razor-sharp teeth that shone in the pale light.

The creature's head cocked as if observing him, and the breath caught in Garrett's throat. This thing was not some animal—it was something older, something far beyond human understanding. The beast opened its mouth and produced a sound that sent tremors through Garrett down to his bones. It was neither a growl nor a howl—it was a voice.

"You should have stayed in the house."

Garrett trembled in his legs, and his mind screamed for him to run. But his feet felt like lead, and his body wouldn't respond. The beast charged with terrifying speed. It was upon him before he could even react, its claws cutting through the air like knives. He hardly had time to throw up his arms in a futile bid to protect himself when the creature was upon him.

But instead of tearing him to shreds, it hesitated, its enormous, evilly contorted visage resting scant inches from his own. Its fetid breath surged his way, reeking of rot and blood. Its eyes glittered with an ancient hunger, yes, but something else too—a faint echo of pity.

The creature hissed softly, then backed away, keeping its eyes on him. It retreated into the shadow of the trees, and Garrett stumbled backward, trapped in silence and immobility. It faded into the darkness, and for a long moment, he was frozen in place, too afraid to even breathe. His heart pounded in his chest, while his mind chased incredulity. What had just happened? Was it real? Was he dreaming?

Then he heard the howl again in the distance. This time, it was different.

"The next time around, you will not be so lucky."

Garrett's blood ran cold. The creature was still there, watching him. And he was never going to be alone.