top of page
  • Writer's pictureVickie Fuhriman

Into the woods

They walked down the parkway with their new puppy in tow, them pulling on the leash with a tail wagging fast enough to leave bruises on anyone that encountered the spry little spirit. A tricolor beagle with trauma in her eyes but only love in her heart. They come across a man in a blue T-shirt and a raggedy pair of jeans, he jauntily introduces himself as he asks for their phone to put in his phone number, they hesitantly agree but watch anxiously for him to give it back and for them to walk away and to put the heebie-jeebies out of mind that the man ferociously gives off in his wake. As the man hands back the phone they cautiously take it and put it into their pocket. The man continues to follow them in the shadows as they continue their walk back to the new puppy’s home.

Upon passing a small, dark home that hides beneath the shadows of the woods, the harness unbuckles off the small puppy and she lurches into the darkness to chase a squirrel that is entering the home hiding in the darkness. They chase after her, no longer aware of their surroundings, and enter the spine-chilling home that holds iniquity in its bones.

Entering the front door, they see nothing unusual, a dirty, green couch on the left, and a small box TV on the right no bigger than 12 inches. The kitchen is dingy, and a butcher’s knife lay on the counter. Remnants of a meat pie are left on the counter in a small container.

The puppy darted to the back of the house after the small squirrel that whipped through the house. She lay cowering on the feculent bathroom floor below the man in the blue T-shirt. He reaches down and grasps the puppy throwing her against the wall as he comes toward them.

He grasps their throat as he jerks them into the side wall outside of the bathroom. They grasp for something, anything that they may have on them to break his grasp. Finding their keys in their pocket they jab the angular car key into his shoulder, and he lets go, them plummeting to the ground. They run to the kitchen and grab the butcher’s knife that lay across the counter and bound toward the entrance of the hole in the wall that they have found themselves inside.

The man has slowed his pace and fumbles around on his phone as he hastily pushes buttons on his phone. They let out a yelp as they plunge to the dirt floor beneath them as a hatch opens beneath them. Bone sticks out from beneath their dark jeans as blood pools underneath them.

The puppy yowls from upstairs as they crawl amidst the basement floor. Among them in the shadows hangs slabs of meat, perfectly butchered. The smell is atrocious, the acridness in the air burning their nostrils. From afar, they can see jars across the room, as they near closer to them, it appears to have body parts lingering inside their balmy, liquid-filled jars.

They hear a door open as the man stumbles down the stairs with a cleaver in hand. They look around them, the butcher’s knife has haphazardly dug itself into the dirt of the basement floor. They haul their body across the soil reaching out in front of them for the butcher’s knife. Looking above them, they see a human head of a once attractive female hanging from its ears. They let out a shriek as the blue T-shirt man meticulously walks across the floor towards them. They shove the butcher’s knife into his thigh as the cleaver comes down and lands on their torso. He shrieks as he rips the butcher’s knife from his thigh. Now defenseless and bleeding out, they back into the darkness as he raises the butcher’s blade above his head plowing it into their eye socket. He reaches down and picks them up by their shoulders and impales them on a butcher hook amongst the other slabs of meat. Grabbing an axe, he takes to slashing their throat. They stare into his eyes as their life drains from their body and their puppy whimpers from the floor above.

7 views0 comments

Recent Posts

See All

Let’s talk therapy and family dynamics in Hereditary. Annie and her mother obviously had some attachment issues that were never resolved, Ellen Leigh likely struggled with her parenting due to the cov

It's Friday night and you've worked all week, you're stressed and you just want to unwind so you pour yourself a glass of wine, or four. No one bats an eye because it's socially acceptable to drink aw

Post: Blog2_Post
bottom of page