Beyond the Thicket

Carl reached the end of his driveway and took a left. He was a bit puzzled as to why he hadn't gone in this direction yet. He moved in nearly two weeks ago, but so far his nightly walks hadn't led him towards the overgrown thicket.

The bent and mangled trees at the end of the street were covered in strangling ivy. Desiccated thorn bushes hid the rot that lay beneath. The dented old sign that stood before the path into the thicket was aptly lettered with the words DEAD END.

"Oh well," he mused to himself, "Tonight's as good a night as any to see what lies in this direction." Following this thought, he lightly patted his back pocket. Two odd protuberances met his hand.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out two C batteries. The absent-minded dummy had brought along fresh batteries, but no flashlight. He decided it didn't matter since every front lawn had a lamp post. They'd be coming on soon enough, but he was a bit uneasy. His father had taught him the importance of being prepared before leaving the house.

He turned and glanced back the way he'd come. A slight bend in the road hid his quaint little bungalow from view. The decision to forego heading back to retrieve his flashlight was made when he stumbled over a raised bit of sidewalk. He agilely recovered himself and slowed his quickened pace. It seemed quite odd that he'd already walked so far in just a couple of minutes. His calculation of just how much time had elapsed changed when the Sun disappeared behind the trees.

The lamp posts still hadn't turned on. Just then Carl heard a strange noise. He spun around, but couldn't make out anything more than a few feet ahead. Something darted past him on his left. He quickly turned toward it, but once again he couldn't see anything. The light breeze picked up momentum, carrying with it the same noise as before. Now stiffly at attention, Carl could make out a whimpering moan.

He muttered, "Sweet Mary Joseph," under his breath. Suddenly Carl felt childish. He found himself out after dark, and there he was whispering like a frightened little boy in need of a night light. He knew that all he had to do was step lightly and follow the sidewalk back home.

He turned to head home, but just stood there looking ahead. He turned the other way and met with the same issue. He scratched his head, "Hmmm," he thought, "I turned back towards the way I came when I first heard that noise. Then I turned again, but then I... no, no, that's not right." Carl continued to look each way down the sidewalk, but he just couldn't determine which direction would lead him home.

The mysterious moaning sounded again. It seemed much closer this time. Carl was shrouded in complete darkness now. He couldn't see his hand in front of his face. Finally after all these years he could now empathize with his younger brother who was deathly afraid of the dark when they were children. He couldn't remember ever being in such utter darkness before in his life. He found it strange that none of the houses on the street had any lights on. Not even the bluish glow of a television emanated from any of his neighbor's windows.

His thoughts mirrored his frustration and fear. "Where is the Moon, and why haven't the fucking lamp posts turned on yet?" Carl sidled left until he felt the grass under his foot. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly as he spun around. He started walking guardedly with the grass and the edge of the sidewalk each supporting a foot. He decided to follow the invisible line between the two different types of terrain beneath his feet until the Moon or the lamp posts lit his way.

The moaning came to his ears again. It was much louder now. "Yeah, it's definitely not the wind?" His unsteady thoughts reached for some explanation to calm his nerves. He was walking blindly, so he wasn't confident he could travel any faster than a toddler's walk.

"A moose, maybe? Sure, there are pictures of moose all over town. I saw a moose crossing sign just yesterday. When I get home, I'll look moose calls up online. That's right, just concentrate on getting home, and chilling out in front of the computer for the rest of the night."

The tightness in his clenched jaw and the bunched wad of muscles in his neck loosened a little once he decided it was just a stupid moose. No moose could compare to the frightening creatures his imagination had begun to concoct. Just then a lamp post came to life. He was so glad to see again, and there he was standing right in front of his house.

He squinted his eyes to guard against the brilliant glare from the lamp post. Stepping into his yard, he looked side to side and noticed that no other lamp posts were lit. Glad to be home, and feeling more than a little disconcerted by his strange excursion, Carl let the observation die on his lawn. He quickened his pace to his porch and there lying at the foot of the steps were three newspapers.

He remembered fetching the Sunday paper that morning, so he was more than just slightly puzzled. He picked up the nearest one, pulled off the rubber band, and unrolled it. Emblazoned across the front page in bold black was the heading, "Murder On May Street." The accompanying photo was of a police officer standing sentry over the path leading into the thicket.

Carl glanced at the top of the page. "Tuesday? I don't understand." He quickly skimmed through the article while a horrible feeling began to bubble up from within him.

"The body of an unidentified man was found brutally-"

Carl dropped the paper, and stumbled back onto his lawn. He slumped to the ground in shock, and rolled onto his back. He could see the Moon directly above him spread out across the night sky. It seemed so large and imposing. Just then the lamp post went out. The Moon offered no reprieve from the darkness as a loud moan echoed along May Street.