Hunter

As her shirt came over her head, she felt eyes on her. She stopped in mid-movement, arms crossed protectively over her chest. She faced the wall, her back to the wide picture window in her bedroom, and that’s where the feeling of being watched came from. Goosebumps ran down her arms and across her shoulders and the hair on the back of her neck raised in alarm.

For the first time since they had moved to the country, she wished for blinds or curtains on the windows to block out the dark night. With no clue who could be out there watching her, she tried to make her frozen limbs move, tried to shake off the feeling that whatever was out there was evil. It was probably just an animal, passing through the night cloaked backyard, on its way to the woods that flanked the property.

She slowly turned in increments, first her feet, then legs and torso, and finally her head, swiveling slowly on her tense neck. She itched to pull the shirt back over her head but didn’t want to block her vision for the second it would take the shirt to clear her head.

She knew she was being silly, knew there was nothing out there in the shadow filled night. The security light attached to the barn shed enough light to illuminate the back of the house, and from the light-filled safety of the bedroom she could see there was nothing out there. The line of trees marking the beginning of the woods didn’t benefit from the security light, but if there was something out there, she would have plenty of time to get the shotgun from the closet before whatever it was reached the house.

She looked at the clock over the bed and gave a sigh of relief. Her husband would be home shortly, and they could have a laugh over her baseless fear. To prove to herself that nothing was out there, she walked to the window, swallowing her fear and yanking the shirt over her head, and peered into the darkness.

There were eyes glowing in the woods.

It took her a moment to pick them out, because they were in the wrong spot for an animal. They were too high up in the air. Rising roughly seven feet in the air, the two pair of large, glowing green eyes studied her as she studied them. The sight of them froze her in place again. Her mind, however, was not frozen. She thought frantically of what could be seven-foot-tall with glowing green eyes, but drew a complete blank. She started to shake violently under their malevolent gaze, but her feet would not move. The closet was ten steps away, the loaded Winchester sitting uselessly inside if she couldn’t bring herself to move to it.

The eyes were motionless, occasionally blinking languidly, as though the mind behind them knew she wasn’t going anywhere. A feeling of evil soaked into her, saturated her bones, held her as still as a statue.

The house went dark.

With a scream torn out of her throat, her paralysis broke and she stumbled in the dark to the closet, her fingers scrabbling frantically at the knob. She ripped it open, fumbling by feel for the gun.

In the hall outside the bedroom door, something growled, the guttural sound of it causing all the strength to run out her legs. She dropped to her knees, her fingers skittering down the length of the gun to hang uselessly at her sides.

The picture window shattered, glass raining into the room, the light from the security light reflecting off the shards as they pattered to the floor.

The last thing she saw was three pair of green eyes towering over her before the ripping began.