Rite of Passage
Camping alone for the first time made Jackson realize that you never outgrow your fear of the darkness.
He sat on a canvas stool, hunched over a crackling fire as it cast dancing figures against the surrounding trees. The sky above was overrun by an endless sprawl of branches — reaching down to grab him with their withered appendages. Jackson’s mind raced with thoughts of making the two mile trek back to his car and driving home, but pride kept him in place. So he continued to listen to the creatures around him — their malevolent songs filling the air.
Jackson tried to remain calm, but his heart and mind raced faster with every passing hour. He tried breathing exercises to quiet the primitive part of his brain — the part that only thought of survival and death. He muttered to himself, “You’re letting your imagination get the best of you Jacko. Stop being a pussy and reel it in.” The self talk was motivating enough, but a twig snapped in the nearby darkness and brought Jackson to his feet.
Jackson stood motionless with his breath held. He closed his eyes to focus and listen beyond the booming thuds of his heart. The methodical steps of a predator approached his campsite. He grabbed his hatchet and widened his doe eyes on the black wall just outside of his campfire’s bloom. Jackson couldn’t help but imagine a grizzly bear, or a pack of wolves — eager to ravage his innards. He yelled at the hidden figure, hoping to scare it back to the hole it came from. “Shoo! Fuck off! Get out of here!”
The animal responded with a deafening shrill.
Jackson sprinted into the woods as fast as his fear would take him. A sea of branches slashed at his face and hands as he darted deeper into the depths of the forest. His steps were wild and loud, but they didn’t mask the thundering gallop that was closing in behind him. Jackson weaved his way through the vegetation at an incredible speed, but the creature’s shrieks closed the distance between them. After only a few seconds of chase, its putrid breath lingered just over his shoulder.
Jackson grunted in pain as he tried to run faster, but an exposed root caught the toe of his boot, causing his body to collide with the forest floor — his hatchet falling into the nearby shrubbery. He rolled to his back and skittered away from the beast until his spine made contact with a large rock formation. He instinctively raised his hands to cover his face as a final and futile line of defense. A thin ray of moonlight illuminated the space immediately in front of him and animal finally unearthed itself from the darkness.
It was a boy.
“There’s monsters in these woods,” the boy whispered — his voice shaky and weak. Jackson was embarrassed to be found in such an emasculating position; he jumped to his feet and took his jacket off to cover the naked child. “Jesus kid, you scared the bejesus out of me! Where’s your mom and dad?” The boy stared in silence. “Here, put this on.” Jackson approached the boy to cover him, but the child quickly stepped out of the moonlight, returning to the cover of night.
He could see the boy’s outline, a wispy shadow swaying just outside of the light. “My parents are here,” the boy whispered as he pushed his arm through the moonlight and pointed at the blackened sky.
Jackson turned around and squinted his eyes as he looked to the top of the towering rock formation. Through the vacant spots in-between the trees, he spotted two gaunt figures looking down upon them — their faces concealed by the darkness. “Hey! I found your son here! He’s okay!” Jackson called out.
They stared in silence.
While remaining fixated on the beings above, Jackson felt a sharp pain in his left hand, followed by thump against his feet. He looked down to the forest floor, unable to comprehend how his hand had separated itself from his body.
Jackson fell to the ground in agony and watched the boy enthusiastically pick up his severed hand. The child gnawed at the dirt-covered flesh as Jackson writhed in pain on the forest floor, screaming for the onlookers to help him. They stared in silence as the boy slurped the remaining digits down and licked the blood from his little fingers.
Jackson watched in horror as the boy crawled toward him, his mouth oozing with hot blood and sinew. The child climbed on top of him and bit deeply into the flesh of his neck. Two, small antlers on the boy’s head glistened beneath the anemic moonlight as the sounds of gnawing and screams penetrated the cool forest air.
The boy’s parents finally broke their silence with shrieks of celebration. It was the first time the child had hunted alone. As he continued devouring the steaming flesh in front of him, they crawled down the rock formation and joined him in the feast.
When there was nothing left but tangled hair and bones, the three stood up as one and joined their wet hands underneath the moonlight. The other creatures of the forest had turned silent — too afraid to make even the slightest sound. The mother and father looked down at their son with pride and shared a moment of heartwarming glances, then they galloped into the darkness.
