Vermins

There’s always something inherently eerie about living in the forest, in complete isolation. You almost always assume the worst when you’re on your own surrounded by the thick wooded area, it’s almost like time just doesn’t go by the same as it would be anywhere else. Like the edge of the woods was some type of portal that transferred you to the unknown the minute you place your feet on the soft dirt. Like the vegetation is closing in on you the further you get from civilization. It’s not an ideal situation for many, so you can imagine my feelings when I had to move into one. Let me explain, because you’ll need some backstory to understand the depth of what I’m going to say.

You can call me Jed, I’ve grown up in a city and that’s where I had stayed for almost my whole existence. I lived on my own in an apartment, but that’s where this whole thing started. It was getting more difficult every passing month to pay rent, and that was in an apartment in the rougher parts of the area. My credit wasn’t where it probably should have been, so I really couldn’t manage to get a home in the city at all. I finally had to settle on a small trailer, in the woods. It was about four hours away from my old place, with my sister begrudgingly agreeing to help me move out. I didn’t have many belongings, so it proved to be a generally easy task.

The moment I bade farewell to my older sister and she drove away, I closed the door. That moment, I realized, I was really on my own now. I don’t really like to admit it, but being around people gave me an odd sense of comfort. That was something I didn’t really have anymore, but I vaguely remembered seeing a house not too far from here, so I figured maybe I should go say hello so I can have at least a tiny bit of company.

I knocked on the door, and an old man came to open it. I introduced myself and he almost immediately invited me in for coffee, he was probably glad to have some company which I could understand due to the location. I came to know him as Otis. He owned land here and in the field out behind his house, he used it for farming. The only people he really got to talking to were people that would come and buy stuff that he grew, and it was basically all business talk. I watched my drink cool while he told me about the area; he’d been living here a long time.

We were just making small talk when seemingly out of nowhere, he looked me dead in the eye until I stopped talking. As soon as my mouth shut, he asked me if I was new to these parts. When I responded with a simple “yes,” he told me I needed to watch out for the “vermins,” which confused me. I expected small animals to be a given, but the way he said it made it sound off. I asked him what he meant. He sighed, and settled in his chair. From what he told me, these “vermins” didn’t look normal. He said it was imperative me not to let them fool me. I was puzzled, but I didn’t want to be rude and he was the only neighbor I really had, so I brushed it off as particularly ugly animals that he might’ve had some run-ins with. Besides, he was old and he seemed to enjoy me being there, so he was probably just looking out for me since I didn’t have lots of experience with animals aside from pigeons and the occasional racoon.

A few weeks went by, each being more uneventful than the last, Otis visits aside. I was becoming very good friends with him, coming over often. Despite the weird vermin comments every now and then, he was a nice guy. He told me stories of his late wife and children who have long since moved out to go to school. I help him out on his farm sometimes, which I can tell he appreciates due to him having some trouble because of his age. Sometimes we would just sit inside and watch his black and white TV, and every now and then we’d eat dinner together. It comforted me knowing I wasn’t completely on my own like I initially thought. When I returned home, though, it felt painfully lonely. I mindlessly flipped the TV on as I sat on the couch, a habit I had started not long after the move. It gave me a false sense of company, but I’d take what I could since I couldn’t just go to Otis’s house all the time. The rain followed soon after.

I was half asleep, barely paying attention to the program that was showing, listening to the peaceful tapping of rain on the window pane. When I was about to get up and move to my room, I felt that something was wrong. The consistent tapping of the rain was sporadic at this point. When I crept to the kitchen to grab a snack on the way to the bedroom, it hit me. There wasn’t any noise coming from the kitchen window.

It wasn’t raining anymore.

I froze. The pitter patter of the so-called “rain” could be faintly heard if I listened closely enough. I had to go see what it was, I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t discover what was out there. Each step felt heavier than last. The slow creaking of the shoddy flooring made me cringe. The TV’s blue light illuminated part of the room, and just enough so I could see a few feet out the window. I flinched when I saw a light switch on, temporarily blinding me for a brief moment. The motion sensor.

There were fingers pressed up against the glass, causing me to jump back, ad my eyes to study whoever it was more frantically. The face I saw, I'm not even sure of today. I don't trust my own memory. I thought it was a person, but it just couldn't be. No. All I saw of it was it's smile. It's unmoving, unnaturally wide smirk. My eyes were glued to the teeth. The tusk like sharp teeth sticking out like a sore thumb from it's wretched mouth. Something was dripping from them. She- I think it was a she. I wasn't going to stick around and study “her” any longer, I fumbled around and made my way to my room as fast as my legs could run. My heart was practically leaping out of my chest as I locked the door. Needless to say, my windows, doors, and even the shed stayed locked tight since then. My shed lock was more of a rope, but nobody was trying to go steal gardening supplies. That wasn't a safety concern so I didn't waste much time with it.

When I awoke, the sun shone through the blinds painting my skin with stripes of morning light. I sat up in bed, looking at the TV which was now just producing a static noise. I went to turn it off on the way to the kitchen for a coffee or six, considering the night I had. I racked my brain for any more details I could've possibly picked up. Her clothes were dirty and ripped, caked in dirt and god knows what else. Her hair flared up in all directions, dirty just like her clothes. It was easy to see her hair was red, it stood out almost as much as those damned teeth. What was the worst though, is that a word went through my mind the whole time I thought about her. Fake. She didn't look like a true person. The way her body contorted, her facial expression, it wasn't possible. It was almost like an imitation of a person.

I had to warn Otis. I hopped in my car, but I took a moment to glance at the backyard. The shed doors were open. I don't have time to investigate, Otis needed to know. I practically jumped out of my car when I pulled up to his driveway, knocking much more desperately than usually. He had to answer, his truck was in the garage. When nobody did, I reluctantly opened the door. The sight before me makes me regret everything I've done up until this point. Otis. He was sprawled out onto the carpet, motionless with a look of hopelessness in his eyes. It all happened so fast. There was a hole in his chest down to his pelvis, and almost half of his body parts were gone. Blood pooled in my hands as I leaned over him, tears dangerously threatening to fall.

Whoever did this- whatever did this, had absolutely no plan. It was a mess, all of the wounds were completely inconsistent. All I could do was glance around, noticing the broken bottles and tipped over furniture littered the room, indicating a struggle. I couldn't imagine Otis fighting, images of him smoking a cigar sitting in a rocking chair peacefully flashed in my head. My head slowly turned up, and there she stood, clutching the doorway with that smirk plastered on her face as if it was a permanent part of her. She had crimson sloppily covering her mouth and face, dripping onto her clothes, dirtying them even more. She was holding my- holding my garden shears. She stared at me for what seemed like an eternity. Despite the smile, her eyes showed fear, as if she was trying to express emotion but her mouth refused to uncurl. I scrambled for the backdoor, and the only thing in my head was the word, playing over and over like a broken record.

''Fake, fake, fake, F̴̞̭͐̍̈́͠a̷͔̋̍̓͠͝k̷̨͔͊̋̎͒ȇ̶̬̲̠͙͈͓́̉̆̒̔

I had nowhere else to go but the cornfield. Ducking into them, I just ran. That was all I could do. I tried to ignore the stinging of the plants around me, attempting to go in the straightest line I could manage.

That brings me to now. I'm lost. Lost in the woods. In complete isolation, but I'm not sure which idea is scarier. Am I on my own, or is she following me? I'm not going to last much longer out here. Now, please listen. I want to tell you something a wise man once told me.

The vermins don't look real. It is imperative that you don't let them fool you.

When I do expire, there all all sorts of possibilities for how I'll go. I'll most likely either die of starvation myself, or die becoming sustenance for her. I feel sick every time I try to think of how long it will take for her to grow hungry again. One day, Otis won't be enough to satiate her. Sometimes I think about how I just left him there for her to finish eating, like the main course for dinner, spending a minuscule amount of time mourning the loss of a dear friend. Needless to say, I’,m making up for that time now. I'll be waiting, entrapped in the bushes and the trees, helpless. Under a tree, I’ve been staring up at the completely still baby blue sky, clouds staying plastered in one single space. When will the day she finds me finally arrive? I don’t know.

Time seems to be going by different.