M.A. Padilla

It was a bad day when he found me.

I set up by the field’s edge in the afternoon. My journal, my pen, my clementine. The air was cooling down that time of year, and the farmers had just cut the crops down so it wasn’t as secluded as it was before. But the wild grass was still tall, and trees still full. The autumn wasn’t far enough along to have stripped them yet. I just wanted some quiet. To rest my mind in the breeze, and get some writing done before the sun went down. When I rested my head back against the tree, my eyelids sank. The day had been long, my relaxation seized me at the first opportunity. My journal sat unopened in my lap. My pen clung to the cover by the clip. My clementine, skin intact, rolled from my coat pocket. I remember being frustrated at something crawling on my face. I scrunched my nose and swiped to get rid of it. Every time the pest returned, like it was messing with me. My patience had long gone from the day of schedule changes and unexpected social interactions. I wasn’t getting any writing done anyway. I thought I may as well go home, where the pest could pester no more. Not to leave without giving it a piece of my mind, I opened my eyes and swiped again at the damn thing. 

It took me a fraction of a second. Less. It took me a hundredths decimal of a second to gauge the level of shit I was in. I wish it’d been a bug. Something venomous even. It could’ve been a stranger with a loaded gun and I like to think I would’ve reacted more casually. It hung upside down from the tree I laid against. Stark black, a shadow against the night sky. It dangled in front of me, one of its limbs or, a wing maybe, prodding at my face. Giant—I mean huge—glowing red eyes. Like headlights, they were so bright. Looked pretty big from where I sat beneath it, but I didn’t stick around for a good look. Didn’t give a second thought to whether or not I thought it could catch me either. I found my feet faster than ever before, and hauled ass. No look back, no slowing down. I sprinted until I was sure my thighs would burst and kept moving. Even when I got inside, I paced around the entry way running my hands over my face and hair. Locked all my doors and windows. Closed all the curtains too, but I peeked. And peeked. The bad day, devolved to a worse day. I had done cardio, and lost my clementine…and my journal. 

How’d you write this then, huh? I hear you saying.

And to that I say, ‘omg I’m getting to it.

😡 stop interrupting.’

All night, every two minutes I checked a different window for the thing. I rang a close friend from back home and told her what happened. She was miles away, so many miles, but she was scared with me, and that made me feel better. My adrenaline finally crashed and I fell asleep on the couch. It was late when I had drifted off, so naturally it was late when I woke up. Three in the afternoon, the light glinting in from the closed curtains nudged me enough to wake me. Slow at first, I rubbed my face and started to stretch. The memory slammed into me and my train was back on track. I darted for the front door and peeked out of the window next to it. Front porch, and the path leading away from the house was clear. Normal. When I went out there, I took a better look at everything. The trees got a scan as I swiveled my head around, and I took a sigh of relief too soon. I turned to head back in passing the rocking chair. I stopped, what was that? Double take. On the seat was my closed journal, and my favorite pen still clipped to the cover. Shit. It followed me home. I snatched my journal up and got back in the house. Took another look at the tree line—nothing. 
Panic set into me pretty heavy over it all. Gave my friend another call, told her about the journal. The level of ‘scared with me’ I got from her that time wasn’t as soothing as it had been last night. “You’re gonna leave right?” she said. New in town didn’t describe it, I was new in continent. Pack up and go where? I didn’t know anyone, I barely knew the local language. Shit. The only good news was I could write it all down. I’d been in a rut, and damn if this wasn’t something interesting to write about. I skittered off to my room, far from the front door, and marked it all down. The sun had just tucked itself behind the horizon, leaving a dark orange sky behind. I could make the arrangements to leave, but it wouldn’t happen overnight. No one tells you these things when you buy property overseas. That some…well, to be honest, I don’t really know what it was. I just know it scared me like hell. I know I’m still terrified to go outside. But now…now I can see it from my window. Standing upright on two legs just outside the tree line. The bastard is huge. And those eyes, still burning red like bulbs taking up most of its face. Wings and…fur? Feathers? I want to shut the curtains that I should’ve closed earlier…but I don’t want to lose sight of it.