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"The Stump", a spoopy horror story by Veck

“Ya’ know, I’m starting to think that going out hunting in December might’ve not been the smartest choice, Dane.”

“Gee, Nate—I wonder why?”

Dane Akhtar huffed, frustratedly hefting up the rifle in his hands. By now, he was past the point of regret in telling Nate about the so-called ‘joys of hunting’. He was past the point of wishing he hadn’t ever met the guy, too. Really—he just wanted this hunt to end.

It had been a little after dinner when they first discussed the hunting trip. Nate and Dane were staying overnight at a mutual friend’s house, along with a few other guys the two of them knew. Everybody else at this point had already eaten enough pizza to fill three men, and were settling down in the host’s living room for a game of some old shooter game. This left the two unfamiliar men alone back at the table, where after a few minutes of awkward silence, one of the men—Nathan Garcia his name was—decided that he had had enough of the silence and spoke up. Conversational topics changed mildly, from classes they were taking to jobs they had had before; eventually leading to them talking about fun activities.

Something Dane quickly found out was that Nate didn’t care much for the small things in life.

From what he said, Nate had apparently gone climbing up to the top of Mt. Everest, had snowboarded down some of the most dangerous mountains on Earth (not Mt. Everest, as cool as that would’ve been), and had even spent a few months exploring caves in the western states.

‘Nothing beats that feeling of adrenaline pumping through your veins,’ Nate had said that night, sipping absentmindedly at his drink. ‘Especially when ya’ know you’re only inches away from death itself. That’s when things get most interestin’.’

‘You’re crazy,’ had been Dane’s response then. And looking back at the memory— boots slowly trudging through the thin layer of snow—he still felt the exact same way about him. Probably more so now.

“Hey, Dane?” Nate asked suddenly, breaking the man away from his thoughts.

“…yes?”

“Do ya’ think there are actually any deer around here?”

Dane stopped walking then to look around him. The forest was as empty as it had been for the past few hours, with the only visible objects around being thin, dead trees and a whole lot of snow. He hadn’t seen an animal since they arrived—something that, while it definitely angered him to absolutely no end—it was actually rather eerie to Dane, now that he really thought about it.

Not a single animal.

Contrary to what he wished was true; this was not Dane’s first experience with hunting during the winter months. He had actually gone quite a few times before, and each time he had gone hunting in the snow, he had had surprisingly good luck with catches. Animals weren’t as commonly found in the winter as they were in autumn, sure—but they were definitely still there. For as long as they had been in this god-forsaken forest, it seriously felt like they were the only living things there.

“No, Garcia. No I don’t think there are any deer around here,” Dane eventually replied, fidgeting with his rifle. He glanced over his shoulder at Nate. “Then again, that might just be because of this damn forest you picked for us.”

That was another reason Dane wasn’t very happy about their situation. Being the nice guy he was, when Nate had asked him if he could tag along for a hunting trip—of course he said yes. Not only that; but since Nate was going to be the guest on the trip, Dane decided that he could choose where they go.

Big mistake.

“…hey, Garcia?”

Nate looked pleasantly surprised at Dane taking initiative with conversation. With the man having been upset for more than half the trip, he had grown accustomed to Dane’s angry silence. His normally tan face slightly pink from the cold—even beneath all of the hunting gear—Nate smiled and asked, “Yeah?”

“Why’d you pick this place, anyway?”

“Didn’t I tell ya’ already?” asked Nate, quirking a brow.

Pulling out a small screwdriver to adjust the sight on his gun, Dane didn’t bother looking up at Nate as he spoke. “Well I’m asking you right now, aren’t I? So no—you obviously didn’t tell me. Please do.”

Nate halted in his walking to lean up against a nearby tree, his eyes closing as a look of deep thought appeared on his face. Dane finished tightening his gun’s sight, crammed the screwdriver back into a pocket of his coat, and peered up at the man. For several slow, dragging seconds, Nate was silent, a gloved hand scratching idly at the scraggly patch of hair beneath his lips. A bitter cold wind blew and shook the trees around the two of them with a low, creaking sound. Dane pulled his coat closer to him.

Finally, Nate spoke, his voice nearly a whisper. “See…have ya’ ever heard the local legend about the stump?”

“I…haven’t.”

“Hm. See, this here legend states that a man resides somewhere in this forest—well, if you can even call him a ‘man’, I suppose. The tale describes this fella—this stump—as…unpredictable, with his actions occasionally having no clear motive or reasoning behind them. So while it’s certainly risky to actively search out the ‘stump’, they…they say he gives you a special reward if you’re lucky enough.”

“…”

“Heh, what’s that look for, Dane?”

Dane couldn’t help but try to stifle a laugh as he continued looking at Nate. Running a hand down his dark-toned face, he eventually said, “So, let me get this straight. You chose this ghost-forest—with not a single animal in it, might I add—because…you heard some shoddy tale about a ‘stump’.”

Nate nodded.

“Oh. My. GOD, that—that is PRICELESS,” Dane exclaimed, high-pitched laughter breaking his speech. He doubled over, his rifle falling to the snow as he clutched his belly. “I can’t—I can’t believe I seriously thought you had a legitimate reason for a second there.”

Rolling his eyes, Nate playfully jabbed Dane’s side with his elbow. “Sorry I’m a fan of excitement, Akhtar,” he said. “I just want something exciting, or thrilling to happen.”

And I just want this trip to END, Dane thought to himself. He shook his head to regain his composure. “Anyway…we should probably get heading back, Garcia. I think we’ve spent long enough on this little nature walk of ours.”

“Right there with ya’. Say, what time is it even?”

“Near midnight…” Dane mumbled, checking his nearly-dead phone. Stuffing the phone back into a pocket with a grumble, he bent to pick his rifle up out of the snow and the two men went on their way without another word. Without the men’s conversation to fill the void, there was a nearly deafening silence that occupied the forest. The only sound heard was the soft crunching of the snow, and the occasional branch snapping beneath their boots. It was nearly peaceful. Dane tried to enjoy this last trek through the foliage, and truth be told, he probably would have if it wasn’t for an issue that had been occupying his mind for the longest time.

Where the hell are all the animals?

Realizing that the dim moonlight shining down onto the forest was nowhere near enough to do any meaningful spotting, Dane looked down at the flashlight latched onto his belt. He shrugged. They weren’t really hunting at this point, anyway. He moved to hold the gun with only a hand for a second, grabbed the metallic cylinder, and quickly flicked it on. A bright cone of light shot out of the end, illuminating a patch of trees in front of the two men. Dane readjusted his grip on the rifle after attaching the light onto its scope.

Slowly moving the light to brighten up the leafless trees around the two, Dane searched for any possible sign of wildlife that he could find. Since there hadn’t actually been any snowfall today, paw prints or various other tracks didn’t have much a reason to be covered or obscured—yet there wasn’t a single indent in the snow.

“Dane,” Nate started. It was his first word in a few minutes. “What are ya’ looking so desperately for? I doubt there’s a bowl of curry anywhere near here.”

Ha-ha. Stereotyping humor. You know Pakistanis aren’t the ones that love curry, right? That’s Indians.”

“My bad, my bad. …but seriously though?”

“Yes, seriously. I might’ve not grown-up in Pakistan, but my parents did an—”

“No, no—not that. I meant what are ya’ searching for?” Nate asked, his voice a bit more forceful than usual.

Keeping the gun-mounted-light trained toward the ground in front of them, Dane turned his head to look at Nate. There was worry evident on his face, with his normally cheerful brown eyes suddenly looking much darker.

“…animals,” grunted Dane, looking back toward their front.

“Why? Are ya’ THAT determined to slaughter somethin’ tonight?”

“I gave up on that three hours ago, Nate. I’m looking for animals because, well, isn’t it at least a LITTLE bizarre that we haven’t seen any—”

Suddenly, Dane’s eyes widened in shock. Acting only on instinct, he shoved Nate to the ground, threw himself forward, spun around, then aimed and fired the rifled directly into the area directly behind his previous position. An earsplitting BANG echoed through the woods. From somewhere off in the distance, wood cracked and shattered from the bullet’s impact.

Then there was quiet.

Leaning up onto his elbows, Nate groaned in pain. “What…the…HELL was that, Dane?!” he exclaimed, shaking his head to try and remove the ringing from his ears. Apparently he had removed his ear-protection earlier in the night.

“Dane?” Nate looked over to where the other man had landed.

Said man lay flat on his back in the snow, the wooden hunting rifle discarded a foot away from him. His dark eyes stared blankly up at the stars. His lips moved slightly, as if he was trying to speak but couldn’t get anything out.

“…Dane?” Nate asked again. He was trying his best to not start panicking.

“D…”

It was barely audible, but Nate was sure he had just heard the man speak. Hurriedly rolling onto his chest, he ignored the uncomfortably chilling snow going through the collar of his coat and pulled himself a bit closer. “What’d ya’ say, Dane?” Nothing but the wind.

“Come on, speak to me!”

“…d-did you…did you hear the whisper?”

Nate stared at the man incredulously. “…what whisper?”

“Did you not hear it? That…that disgusting voice? Damn thing sounded like somebody was growling through a cheese-grater….”

“No? Are…are ya’ okay?”

The man simply closed his eyes, and for a few seconds he just laid there—as if dead, though his chest still rose and fell with heavy breaths. Then, as if a switch was flipped in his brain, Dane abruptly shot up into a seating position. “Yeah, yeah…I’m fine. I KNOW what I heard though…” he said, brushing some snow off the front of his jacket. Suddenly, he was thankful to be wearing snowpants.

Nate followed Dane’s lead, pushing himself onto a knee. He then stood and offered the man a hand to help him up. “Well, what it’d say, then?” he asked, grunting with effort as he pulled the man to his feet.

“I couldn’t really make out words, per se—just sounds,” said Dane, reaching down for the rifle. “Something along the lines of ‘shi…shi-nuh’?” He shook the extra clumps of snow from the gun, then gave it one more thorough examination before putting it back into its sling. Or at least he tried to. Instead, however; he met some resistance. “What the hell…?”

“What?”

Dane reached an arm back into his gun-sling, and his gloves met something light and stringy. Pulling it out, he realized it was a…blonde…wig? Even through his thick, winter gloves—Dane could just FEEL how greasy the wig was, how filthy each and every follicle felt. Disgusted, his arm nearly spasmed with how fast he tried to get the wig out of his hand.

“What is THAT?” Nate asked, squinting to see the clump of fake hair land and
become half-buried in the snow.

“Nothing! I-it’s nothing. Just come on and follow me…I want this to be over already,” Dane exclaimed, an eye twitching as he broke into a jog—or at least, as best a jog one can really do running in baggy snowpants.

Nate quickly followed, trailing behind Dane as closely as he could as they bobbed and weaved around many a dead trees. Once again, the wind blew—this time much stronger, and colder than before. Dane covered his face with an arm to try and shield himself from the harsh gusts, but continued to run regardless.

While he couldn’t turn his head to look at Nate behind him, Dane definitely heard the the man when he let out a shocked yelp and nearly doubled his pace in running. Cursing beneath his breath, Dane struggled but managed to slowly catch up with the man. He cupped a gloved-hand to his mouth and yelled to be heard over the roaring wind, “What the hell happened?!”

“I…HEARD…THE WHISPERS…TOO!”

“J-just keep running, we’ll make it out of here fast!”

“WHAT IS ‘BEAUTIFUL, BEAUTIFUL WALL’ EVEN SUPPOSED TO MEAN?!”

I don’t know, man! Just KEEP RUNNING!!”

And so they did, their boots throwing snow and slush behind them in their wake. Neither Dane nor Nate cared about how heavy their baggy, protective wear was at this point—in their panic, they still managed to sprint faster than they ever had before.

Somewhere in front of the two men, a slouched, unnatural-looking figure suddenly appeared out of thin air beyond the trees.

“Oh crap—TURN, TURN!

Dane and Nate veered sharply to their left, but kept their speed at the very same level. Even from such a short-lasting glance at the figure, the appearance of this being was so etched into the two’s minds that they could’ve painted a near replica of it if they were so asked. The figure wore a bland, black suit—the kind generally meant for business—along with an un-patterned red tie that flapped wildly in the heavy wind. Atop its head sat a patch of blonde hair, that too; flapped along with the gusts. Its face was what stood out the most, however. Its skin was wrinkled and orange—unnaturally so; similar in tone to that of a pumpkin. Its dark, beady eyes were barely visible with how much the figure seemed to be squinting at the two. And that grin—that wretched, sinister looking grin.

Even after the being was no longer in sight, Dane could nearly swear it was there every time he blinked.

IT’S THE STUMP, DANE! THE STUMP!

I DON’T CARE WHAT IT IS—JUST SHUT UP AND RUN! I JUST WANTED THIS DAMN TRIP TO BE OV—!

Suddenly, and without commotion—the two men went limp and from their forward momentum were flung lifelessly down onto their faces in the thin blanket of snow.

The stump stood unmoving at their feet, staring hungrily down at the two new sources of fresh meat. It had been awhile since any travelers had been stupid enough to dwell within its domain. The wind blew once more, though it was much weaker now. With a sickly grin, the stump laughed darkly and adjusted its blood red tie.

“Terrific—this is terrific. Two more souls toward making America great again.”

------------------

Wrote this last year for a Creative Writing class I was taking. Needless to say, I had a lot of fun while writing it, even if I had to rush the ending in order to make it fit within the page limits.
I must say, I really believed this was an actual horror story until the last line. I really thought that the stump was actually a business-dressed, soul-eating monster that took a human-like form. I should've made the link between "wall" and "orange skin", but I guess it may actually be better that I didn't.

The debut, especially, is really well-made. The characters are developed and introduced just as long as needed, and the setting itself is pretty cool.

You should've totally made that for the last Halloween bro, it's pure gold. #tb{XD}