The Art of Nightmares - Chapter Two

 

TWO

 

The boy at the door looked even younger than Beth had expected him to be from his e-mail. He was quite wordy for his age. He couldn’t be much older than seventeen. He was dressed in faded jeans, Converse shoes, a Ramones T-shirt and a wrinkled, greasy flannel shirt. His hair was longish and uncombed. He looked familiar though. As she recognized him, she let out a little scream. Although in her painting a lot of his features were darkened it was in fact the very same person she’d just painted.

“What’s wrong?” the boy asked, worry clearly visible in his face.

She stepped back. “No, no… It can’t be…”

“Please… What is wrong? Why did I startle you?”

She pointed at the boy.  “You… you… You cannot be… You can’t…”

“I am so very sorry I startled you. I meant you no harm… I e-mailed you, asking to speak to you, remember? The boy without fear?”

She nodded. “Yes, yes.” The boy was so full of wide-eyed innocence and worried about her, Beth calmed down a bit again.

“Do you want me to leave?” he asked.

She shook her head. “No, no. That’s all right. It’s just… You look very familiar.”

“Oh?”

“Just come in.”

The boy followed Beth inside. They walked into her living room. Beth asked him if he wanted to have some tea. The boy said he would like that. She walked to the kitchen after the boy sat down on her couch. She went into the kitchen, leaning down on the kitchen counter for a moment, trying to process what she’d just witnessed. How could she paint someone she had never seen before? And why was the boy from the painting there just after she’d painted him. Thinking about it made her dizzy. She figured the best way to find out what was going on though, was to speak to him. So she just put the kettle on.

When she returned with the tea the boy was studying her paintings on the wall. He was especially intrigued by the depiction of a rotting carcass hanging from a cross. It was being tortured by a succubus-like woman with a whip. The succubus had a shapely female body and antler-like horns. She was naked, but covered in blood.

“Not one of my best works,” Beth noted.

The boy turned around. “It looks very real.”

Beth shrugged. “That’s what I’ve heard people say, yes. Have a seat, drink some tea and tell me what you need to know.”

The boy sat down on the couch again. He sipped some tea and said, “Like I e-mailed you I want to know a bit more of how you know what to paint. Where do these scary images come from? How do you know so well what scares them? What does…” The last part she couldn’t quite follow.

Beth held up her hands. “Slow down so I can read your lips better.”

“I’m sorry,” the boy said, blushing. He repeated the questions, slower. He seemed like a very polite and nice young man. The last part of the question was, “what does painting these pictures do to you?”

“It’s difficult to say. The images… They just pop into my head. I don’t know where they come from. I just know that I’m compelled to paint them. Sometimes when I look at them I feel uncomfortable. I don’t really like horrific things. But I just have to put them on the canvas to get them out of my head. I have displayed some of them so I can hopefully understand better where they come from.”

“That’s intriguing. So they are a mystery to you?”

“You could say that, yes.”

“Were you always so good at painting?”

Beth shook her head. “Didn’t pick up a paintbrush until I painted my first horrific picture ten years ago, just after I lost my hearing.”

“How did you lose that?”

“That’s a peculiar story,” Beth said. “But I will tell you.”

The Art of Nightmares - Chapter One

 ONE

 

The boy was drinking a Cherry Coke in one of those classic diners that you read about in Archie comic books and Lee Child novels but rarely saw in real life anymore. He’d just finished eating some fries and some salad. The place unfortunately had no veggie burgers on the menu. He’d had quite a trip the last few weeks from the farm where he worked as a farmhand. He wasn’t at first sure where to go next until he found the discarded magazine at a truck stop. He was looking at the magazine while drinking his Coke.

The headline of the article he was looking at read “Art of Nightmares”. The article was about an artist called Beth Simmons. She painted these incredible pictures of nightmarish creatures with so much detail they had made her work very popular. People called her work disturbing, frightful and nightmarish. The boy tried to see what those people saw in the paintings. He understood the praise for the matter of detail in them. The claws of the demons depicted seemed to gleam, the blood of mauled victims practically seeped off the paintings, their eyes staring right into the viewer’s. He didn’t think they were frightful however. Nothing was ever frightful to the boy. That’s why he left his home a year or so ago. He’d never felt anything resembling fear and really felt that was an experience he had to have. So he’d packed a backpack and travelled around the country, looking for things to scare him. Bungee jumping, breaking and entering, driving fast cars, jumping off cliffs, even encountering extradimensional creatures and Native American monsters had failed to scare him.

There was a picture of Beth in the article. She was in her thirties, short reddish hair, freckles and big glasses. She looked somewhat plain and mousy. Not the person to paint these pictures of monsters, demons and carnage. That was fascinating to him. Where did these pictures come from then? How did she know so well what would frighten people? In the article she’d told the interviewer she wasn’t sure where they came from. Still, the boy thought she might be able to help him understand how to fear things. According to the article she’d lost her hearing years ago but could read lips. Hopefully she would have no trouble understanding his questions.

It was only an hour’s walk over to Beth’s place from the diner. That was nothing to the boy, he’d gotten used to walking almost entire day’s when he couldn’t get a lift or spare a bus ticket.

“Hey, that’s Beth,” a female voice said. The boy looked up from the magazine. The waitress, a middle-aged woman with kind eyes and a wild perm was standing next to her table.

“Yeah, you know her?”

“Of course. Everybody in Cheshire Lake knows her. She’s quite the celebrity. Doesn’t go out much though. She used to come here more often, but ever since she lost her hearing she seems to avoid people.”

“Do you know how she lost her hearing? I wasn’t able to find that anywhere.”

The waitress gave him a suspicious glare. “Why are you so interested in Beth?”

“I’m interested in the concept of fear. She seems to know all about it.”

The waitress shrugged. “Don’t know about that. She paints some horrible things, that’s for sure though. Odd, she had such an average childhood and was working as a clerk at the post office. Suddenly she is able to paint these amazing pictures and loses her hearing. She’s been quite a mystery to us ever since, to be honest.”

“I mean her no harm. I just want to talk to her,” the boy told the waitress.

“Then you should ask her how she lost her hearing. Nobody seems to have any clue about that.”

The boy smiled. “Maybe I should. Thanks for the food, it was excellent. I’m really sorry I don’t have enough money to tip you.”

The waitress had a look at the boy’s wrinkled shirt. “You don’t look like you do.”

“I’ve on the road for a long time,” he said.

“You seem like a nice kid. You remind me of my boy before he went to college. If you want, I can get you some of his old clothes. They might fit you.”

“That would be great,” the boy said.

“Be here at ten, we close then. We’ll go over to my place and pick up the clothes.”

“Awesome. I should be back from visiting Beth by then,” the boy said. In his travels he’d encountered many kind people. Looked like Cheshire Lake had them as well. He was wondering if Beth Simmons would be as kind.

 

The Art of Nightmares - Prologue

 

PROLOGUE

 

Beth had no idea where the images she painted came from. All she knew was that she had to put them on a canvas. There was this uncanny need to exorcize them from her mind by painting them. Her studio was filled with paintings. What was depicted on them was the stuff of nightmares. Screaming demons, naked men and women with their eyes and tongues ripped out. Butchered animals. Monsters dwelling underneath the earth. She had amassed quite a fan following among the lovers of this kind of dark art. She couldn’t really like her work herself. She hated the darkness, the goriness of the images. She was actually a pretty upbeat person herself. She liked the sunny kind of country music, not the dark country kind. She dressed in pink, not black. Most of her fans expected her to be this goth looking young woman, not the blue-eyed freckled brunette she was.

The piece she was currently working on was another bizarre one. It depicted a young man, well more of a boy really. The boy was standing in the dark. A small gaslight illuminated him. Above the boy, barely visible was some kind of demonic looking creature with glowing red eyes. The boy seemed unaware of the danger above him. She couldn’t understand how she was able to perfectly illustrate the boy’s face. Like she’d seen him before. She pretty sure she hadn’t though. The last few months she actually didn’t leave the house that much anymore. She just had to paint, paint and paint. She couldn’t stop. Like an addiction.

She screamed. She couldn’t say how loud as she had lost her hearing already ten years ago. But she did, startled by the image that was suddenly standing behind the painting. It was vaguely humanoid. A sinewy, tall man with grey, stringy hair, hollow eyes. The man smiled. His teeth were yellowing, grimy. It was the kind of man she would paint, but it was right there in the room with her.

She stood from her chair, stepping back from the easel she was working on. The man stepped forward, right through the canvas if it wasn’t there. It reached out a hand. The fingernails were dirty and chewed off. The man spoke, but Beth was unable to read his lips. The man’s jaw dropped open, started to stretch. He vomited a bunch of writhing maggots.

Beth was standing against the wall, screaming again. The maggots made their way across the floor. She tried to crush them with her foot, but stepped right through them. Then the man was gone. The maggots were gone. It was as if nothing had happened.

She looked at her watch. Just when she was expecting company. She would have to gather her wits quickly. She wouldn’t want her visitor to think she was going crazy.

Skinwalker Valley - Chapter Thirteen

  

THIRTEEN

A week after the horrifying death of her father Glory had somewhat managed to work on the farm again. The boy had been helping her along as best as she could as had Blackcrow. After another day of hard work, working extra hard probably to prevent her from thinking about the fact she had lost all her family the boy told her he needed to talk.

They sat at the kitchen table. Glory had some coffee, the boy just water.

“Glory…I’ve enjoyed your company. I’ve enjoyed helping you along but the time for me to go has come,” the boy told her.

“Why? If you like it here, why not stay?”

“Right now, the mission in my life is to find fear. I will not get any peace, be truly happy until I do.”

Glory shook her head. “I just can’t believe you didn’t feel any fear when the skinwalker was trying to kill you. I will be having nightmares for years to come.”

“The skinwalker isn’t the first creature I’ve seen that would scare most people but didn’t scare me. I think it will not have been the last either. I need to go, travel again to find whatever will scare me.”

“I will miss you. Not just as an employee but also as a friend. I will forever be grateful that you saved my life.”

“Most of that gratefulness should go out to Blackcrow. If he hadn’t been carrying that bullet filled with white ash we’d both be dead.”

“Well, you were the one who fired the bullet.”

There was a knock on the door. Glory walked over to it. At the door was Blackcrow.

“Hi Glory,” he said. “Nice to see you. You look great. Kid, ready for your ride?”

The boy stood. “Let me grab my backpack.”

The boy walked out of the kitchen, leaving Glory with the conservation officer.

“How are you feeling now? Relieved you avenged your father’s death?” Glory asked Blackcrow.

“Partly. It also has taken some kind of purpose from me that now has forced me to really come to grips with his death. I feel your pain about your own father, Glory.”

Tears rolled down Glory’s face. She reached out to Blackcrow, hugging him. He hugged her back, tightly and kissed the top of her head. When they let go of each other they had a long look into each other’s eyes.

“Will you stay over for dinner? I don’t want to be alone tonight,” Glory said.

“I would love to. As soon as I drop the boy off at the Greyhound station.”

The boy walked back into the kitchen, backpack slung over his shoulder. “Ready to go!”

Glory hugged the boy. “Have a save trip. I’m not sure if I want you to succeed in your mission though. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

The boy smiled. “I’m not afraid of that.”

 

 

 

 

 THE END

The Boy Without Fear will return in THE ART OF NIGHTMARES!

Skinwalker Valley - Chapter Twelve

 

TWELVE

The hands of the skinwalker wrapped themselves around the boy’s throat. The strength in those hands was incredible. The boy tried to get some air in through his nose, hammering at the creature with the handle of the revolver. The skinwalker wasn’t deterred by this though. This might be the end. The boy felt sorry for that, he didn’t want to die without having ever known fear or with his virginity intact. He decided to keep hammering. One of the blows he dealt hit the creature in the ear, that seemed to hurt it somewhat, the grip on the boy weakening. Making use of this he hit the creature once again against the ear, then right in the eye. The skinwalker howled and let go of the boy, taking a step back.

“Kid, catch!” Blackstone yelled and threw a small object at the boy.

The boy jumped, grabbing the object in the air, clutching it in his fist. When he opened it, he saw it was a bullet. Without thinking twice he put it in the revolver.

The skinwalker was on all fours, snarling at the boy. “I’m going to kill you.”

The boy aimed the gun at the creature. “Not if I kill you first, you monster.”

“By now you should know bullets won’t hurt me. I’m going to enjoy ripping your intestines out,” the skinwalker said. It leaped at the boy.

A loud bang heralded the bullet that caught the skinwalker right in the chest. With big eyes the creature registered a kind of pain he had not expected. It dropped on the floor. Blood kept coming from his chest. “No… No…”

Blackcrow had just managed to get back on his feet. “That’s for killing my father, evil demon! You just got shot by a bullet filled with white ash. I’ve been carrying it along ever since my dad died. He actually made it to kill you once he suspected your existence. He did his research, he knew that was the way to kill a skinwalker.”

“Damn you,” the skinwalker breathed and started to become more and more human. What was left was a Native American, old and thin man. He clenched a fist, then his body went slack.

The boy kneeled down next to the body. “Did we do it? Did we kill it?”

“Best to be careful, but yes, I think we did. I finally avenged my father’s death.”

“What about my dad? Where is he?” Glory wondered. She was still on the floor, rubbing a painful head.

The boy helped her on her feet. “I’m not sure, but I think it would be best to prepare for the worst.”

Glory ran out of the kitchen, through the house, followed by the boy. She walked into her dad’s bedroom. She found Caleb lying on the bed. His ribcage had been opened, his heart lying between his legs. She screamed as the boy held her as tight as he could. In a way, Glory’s nightmare had just started.

Skinwalker Valley - Chapter Eleven

 

ELEVEN

The boy could hear Glory scream from the door. Blackcrow told him to stand back. He drew his revolver and shot the lock of the door. With one hard kick the door flew open and they stormed into the house.

Another scream. The boy said, “That came from the kitchen.”

“All right, let’s go there!” Blackcrow said.

Entering the kitchen they were met by an unbelievable sight. There were two young women in the kitchen, both looking like Glory.

“What the hell?” the boy said.

“She’s not the real me, it’s a monster!” one of the Glories said, pointing at the other one.

“Nonsense, she’s the monster!” the other Glory said.

“This really gives me some flashbacks to a Star Trek episode,” Blackcrow said, not sure who to point his revolver at.

“So one of you is the skinwalker,” the boy understood. “We will just have to figure out who.”

One Glory grabbed the other Glory by the hair. “This creep tried to rape me!”

The other Glory punched her in the stomach, making her hands slip from the hair again.

A thundering sound almost deafened the boy. Blackcrow had fired a shot in the air. “Stop it, the both of you!”

Both Glories stared at Blackcrow, almost like they were frozen. A sudden gunshot can do that to you.

“I am going to ask you a question only the real Glory will know,” the boy said. “What is my favorite sort of meat?”

“That’s easy, steak!” one Glory said.

“You’re a vegetarian, you don’t eat meat,” the other Glory said.

“That’s right. Blackcrow, the Glory to the right is the real one,” the boy said.

Blackcrow aimed his revolver at the left Glory. “Finally I get my revenge.”

The Glory at the left jumped towards Blackcrow, changing while she did so, hair growing on her arms, her face changing. What was left was the savage form of the skinwalker. Blackcrow fired, the bullet hitting the creature in the chest. It dropped down on the floor, not moving anymore.

“Got you, motherfucker!” Blackcrow said and keeping the gun aimed at it’s unmoving form walked closer to it. As he was close enough to touch it, the boy yelled, “Watch it!”

The skinwalker’s claws slashed through the skin of Blackcrow’s leg. The conservation officer lost his balance and fell on one knee. He aimed his gun at the skinwalker who was rising again. Before he could fire a round the creature had grabbed his arm, twisting it until a sickening crack was heard. Blackcrow’s broken arm hung limp from his body.

The skinwalker howled as Glory stabbed it in the neck with a kitchen knife. It slapped Glory away from him, knocking her against the wall. It’s shadow darkened Glory, who crawled back from the monster until she had nowhere to go anymore, trapped against the wall.

“Screw it! I’m going to kill you and fuck your bloody corpse!” the skinwalker growled.

“Leave her alone!” the boy yelled at the creature. It didn’t pay any attention to him, apparently not seeing the teenager as much of a threat.

Blackcrow’s revolver thudded to the floor as the skinwalker started to close in on Glory. The boy grabbed it, aimed it a the skinwalker and fired all remaining three round in the creature’s back. Blood burst where the bullets hit the skinwalker’s hairy back. From the sound the creature made it was obvious the bullets hurt.

“You little shit,” the skinwalker said, turning around to face the boy now. “You really think simple bullets can kill me? You’ve annoyed my enough for me to kill you first now, though.”

The boy observed the monster coming for him. It looked fascinating. It looked like a mix between a wolf and a human, sporting deerlike antlers. For a moment he thought he was going to feel fear. Unfortunately he only felt some kind of morbid curiosity as to what was going to happen now.

Skinwalker Valley - Chapter Nine

 

NINE

After the boy had explained what had happened over at the ranch that night Blackcrow scratched his chin. “Strange story. Glory has been through a lot of stress. That might have taken its toll.”

“The way that coyote disappeared and suddenly the nighthawk appeared has made me think,” the boy said. “What if the coyote changed into the nighthawk?”

“You mean to say you think the coyote was the skinwalker?”

“Exactly.”

“That could well be the case. I should have thought about that!”

“And if that was the case it might be that indeed someone looking like me tried to hurt Glory. Someone looking like me but not being me.”

“What? You think the skinwalker impersonated you?”

The boy shrugged. “Didn’t you say earlier that your dad suspected the skinwalker in the past replaced people, impersonating them after killing them?”

“Yeah. You might be right. But if so, Glory might be in danger right now. That nighthawk flew off in the direction of the ranch.”

“No time to waste then, let’s head over to the ranch!”

 

Glory couldn’t sleep. She sat in the kitchen, drinking a glass of water. Her dad entered the kitchen.

“Hey, girl. Can’t sleep?” Caleb asked her.

“No. Something weird happened. I had to throw the boy out.”

“What? Why?”

Glory thought about keeping quiet for a moment. She was mad at what the boy had tried to do to her but she didn’t want her dad to hurt him either. She figured the boy was gone far enough now though. So she told her dad what had gone on that night.

“That little shit. Good thing you ran him off. I would have killed him,” Caleb bristled.

“That’s what I figured. Oh, dad… Will I ever be able to trust any man?”

Caleb sat at the table next to her, put a hand on her shoulder. “You will forever be able to trust me.”

Glory caressed his hand. “I know dad. There was something strange though, I scratched the boy’s cheek. But when I confronted him with his deeds in his room they were gone.”

Caleb hugged her, pulling her close. She could feel his nose against her hair. Did he smell it? That was weird. Her dad had never been a hugger.

“What the hell?” Caleb’s voice sounded. It didn’t come from near her though. Instead it sounded like it came from the doorway.

Glory pushed the man hugging her away from her. She saw Caleb come into the room. She looked at the man who’d been hugging her. He looked like Caleb as well. What was going on there?

“Who the fuck is that?” the man hugging her yelled, pointing at the other Caleb.

“No, who the fuck are you?” the Caleb in the doorway asked.

“Oh my god, I’m going crazy!” Glory screamed.

Skinwalker Valley - Chapter Eight

EIGHT

The boy was confused. It all went pretty fast those fifteen minutes ago in his bedroom. He just didn’t understand where the accusations of Glory had come from. Did she have a very realistic dream or something?

As he walked he began to notice how it got cooled down quickly when night has fallen. He buttoned up his shirt. The only light in the vast outdoor space was that of the moon. It was so much darker there than in the city. Not that the absent of light scared him of course. Sleeping on benches in the outdoors at night was one of the first things he’d tried in his quest to feel fear. He’d heard many people got scared by the strange, unidentifiable noises they heard in the night. Some would get the feeling something was watching them. Something unseen. Oh, if only he could have those feelings.

That’s when he heard something scrape the sand behind him. He turned around. It was so dark he could hardly see anything. He switched on the flashlight of his cell phone. He looked right into the eyes of a coyote. Most people would have screamed or put a step back. He just stepped forward, slowly reaching out a hand to the animal.

“Hey there, fella… How are you?” he softly said to it.

The coyote was the biggest one he’d ever seen. It bared bright white teeth. There was a low growl, coming from the back of the animal’s throat. The boy felt no fear, but knew to be cautious. He slowly got his backpack from his back.

The coyote attacked, jumping at the boy, snarling. The boy managed to get his backpack in front of himself, the coyote’s teeth sinking into the fabric instead of his flesh. The animal hung onto it, trying to wrestle it from the boy’s grip. As a devoted vegetarian the boy hated hurting animals but knew he had little choice in this case. He kicked the animal as hard as he could. The coyote let go of the backpack and landed on its back. It yipped but got ready to attack again, back legs getting ready to jump again.

Bright lights bathed the boy and the coyote. The sound of an engine, a car coming to a halt. The boy turned to see the arrival of Blackcrow’s car. The conservation officer jumped out of the car and shot a round from his gun in the air. The coyote ran away.

“Thanks,” the boy said.

“Thank me later. I need to get a tranquilizer gun from the car to shoot that coyote. I don’t want it attacking other people,” Blackcrow said. “You can hop in.”

The boy got in the car with the conservation officer who was busy getting something from behind the seat. He produced a tranquilizer gun and put it on his lap.

“Okay, let’s get that animal,” Blackcrow said and fired up the engine, headlights searching for the coyote.

“I don’t see it anymore,” the boy said. The only animal in sight was a nighthawk flying up into the sky.

“Me neither. How did it get away like that?” Blackcrow wondered.

“No idea. The night is full of strange happenings, it seems.”

“Like? Why were you out there anyway?”

The boy shrugged. “That’s what I would like to know, honestly.”

Skinwalker Valley - Chapter Seven

SEVEN

Glory stirred awake when she felt something wet brush her cheek. Her sleep was restless after all the excitement from that day. She opened here eyes and saw the boy sitting on her bed. Had he kissed her?

“What are you doing here? Did you just kiss my cheek?”

The boy said, “Come on, Glory… I’ve seen you look at me? It’s very obvious you are attracted to me.”

Glory shot up, sitting straight on her bed. “What? You’re crazy! You’re too young for me. I think you’re a nice kid. That’s all.”

The boy grabbed her arm. “Don’t be ashamed of your feelings. I’m just four years younger. That isn’t that much. I will be gentle with you.”

“Let go of my arm,” Glory insisted.

The boy’s head came closer to hers, trying to kiss her. That did it. She raked her fingernails across his cheek, drawing blood. The boy screamed and pushed her flat on the bed. He ran away.

Glory panted. How she had read that boy wrong. He seemed so nice. He turned out to be just as big as an asshole as Robert though. She got up, walked to her father’s room. She wanted to tell him what happened. Then she understood her dad might just kill the boy. As much as she was disgusted by what the boy had done she didn’t want him dead neither did she want her dad to get into trouble. She didn’t need her dad anyway. She was tough enough to face anything on her own.

She walked into the boy’s room. The boy was in bed, apparently asleep. Was he really going to just pretend like nothing happened. She tore the sheets off his bed.

“Huh? What?” he said sleepily.

“Get out,” she said. “Get the hell out of bed, pack your bag and leave.”

“Leave? Why? What’s wrong?”

“Don’t play the innocent. You almost raped me, you sonofabitch!”

“Raped you? I would never do anything like that,” the boy said. He was a great actor. She almost believed him.

He slowly got out of bed. “Listen, I don’t know what happened but I am very sure I didn’t do anything to you. Are you sure you weren’t just dreaming?”

“Don’t give me that. You’re just the same as all of those guys in high school. Pack your bags and leave before I get my dad. He’ll kill you.”

“If you want me gone, I’m gone. But I swear I didn’t do anything to hurt you,” the boy said. He started to put on his clothes.

“Yes, I want you gone,” Glory said, a tear slowly rolling down her cheek.

The boy took his backpack, slung it across his shoulder. “I’m very sorry you think bad of me. I don’t know what happened to you, Glory. But you are obviously very distressed. So I will leave.”

The boy walked out of his room. Glory walked with him, wanting to make sure he was gone. She opened the door and the boy left the house.

“Keep on walking,” she told the boy. She watched the boy walk until he was not visible anymore, swallowed by the dark night.

She shivered, partly because it was cold standing there in just her nightgown, part of what had happened. Then she wondered why the boy’s cheek wasn’t bleeding anymore when he was in his bed again.

Skinwalker Valley - Chapter Six

SIX

After working hard all day Glory sat on the porch drinking some iced tea. She’d enjoyed the boy’s company. He was so energetic it was contagious. Hard worker too. She liked sitting there, watching the sun go down slowly. The boy was in the shower, rinsing off the dirt of the busy day. She was going to go after him.

A red Mustang drove up the terrain. A handsome young man got out after it parked. He was wearing a pink polo shirt and jeans. He was tanned, his hair black. On his muscular jaw as a light beard. She recognized him.

“Robert Moreno. Long time no see,” she said to the man who walked towards her.

“A few years, yeah. Not since high school. I heard about the trouble with the cattle and I figured I’d better see if you were doing all right,” Robert said.

“I’m fine. A bit shook up, but fine,” Glory said.

“Are you sure? I heard it was a pretty brutal scene.”

“I just don’t want to talk about it, okay?”

“That’s fine. Maybe we can just catch up a little, you know?”

“Robert, I’m really tired. I just want to be left alone.”

Robert stepped right in front of her. He put his hand delicately against his cheek. “You know I care for you, Glory.”

She took his hand and gently but firmly removed it from her cheek. “I do. I know about your feelings for me, Robert. But I couldn’t reciprocate those in high school and I can’t know.”

“You just don’t know what you’re missing.”

“Just go, Robert,” Glory insisted, anger creeping into her usually so calm voice.

“Is this guy bothering you?” The boy stepped next to Glory, his hair still damp from the shower.

“Who the fuck is this kid?” Robert asked.

“I work here. Who are you?”

Robert raised a fist. “The guy who’s going to kick your ass.”

“I see,” the boy said. He didn’t even blink.

Robert cocked his head. “You seem pretty sure of yourself? You’re what, sixteen? I can punch you out with one good uppercut.”

“Probably,” the boy agreed.

Glory pushed Robert against the chest. “Leave him alone or I get my dad. You know how he likes to shoot people who trespass.”

“I’m going. Out of respect for you. Not because I’m scared of your dad or that freaky kid,” Robert said and backed down slowly.

“Whatever,” Glory said.

She watched the young man get into his Mustang and drive off. She was glad to see him go. He’d always given her the creeps.

“Who was that?” the boy asked her.

“Just some guy who thought he was in love with me back in high school.”

“Broken heart, huh?”

Glory shrugged. “I figure he just wanted to get into my pants. Oh, sorry. Language.”

The boy chuckled. “Don’t worry about the language. I have been to R-rated movies you know.”

That got a laugh out of Glory. “Of course. You weren’t lying before when you told me you don’t get scared… I was impressed by how you handled yourself back there. You didn’t even flinch when Robert threatened you. You want some iced tea as well?”

“That would be awesome.”

Glory went into the kitchen to get some iced tea. As she fixed it she wondered why Robert still got under her skin so much. He wasn’t the only one to have feelings for her back in high school.

She walked back to the porch and handed the boy his iced tea.

“Thanks,” the boy said and took a sip. “Refreshing. I was thinking… You told me earlier that your dad thought some guy who couldn’t take no for an answer was behind the cattle decapitation. Do you think Robert might be behind that?”

“Robert? No! He can be a bit of a dick but he’s not a psychopath. No way.”

“Okay, just wondering.”

Glory wasn’t so sure as she tried to sound though. She remembered Robert getting violent back in their high school days. He once broke guy’s jaw when he was tackled during a football match. He had a temper for sure. It did sound more logical than that skinwalker story Blackcrow told them. In both cases she was afraid she wouldn’t sleep easy that night though.

Skinwalker Valley - Chapter Five

FIVE

Glory, Caleb, Blackcrow and the boy had taken a seat on the front porch of the ranch. Blackcrow explained, “According to our legends the skinwalker is a sort of witch that can turn into animals. Because some of the cattle slaughtered was actually inside a closed off barn my father suspected something else than a normal animal killed them. Only a skinwalker would have the ability to open doors and viciously kill those inside the way the animals were killed.”

“Couldn’t it just be some kind of normal psychopath freak? That whole witchcraft mumbo-jumbo doesn’t fly with me,” Caleb said.

“My father has seen many slaughtered remains. He knows what it looks like when teeth an claws did the work instead of knives. He had no doubt they were killed by an animal.”

“Could it be a human being opened the door, getting the predator inside to kill? I mean, don’t know why he would do that. But it could be an explanation, right?” Glory suggested.

“My dad was also good at studying footprints. He was pretty sure those of a human changed in that of a wolf.”

“That’s an amazing story,” the boy said. “So you say your dad never caught the skinwalker?”

“He never did, indeed. It is thought the witch found some other hunting ground for a while, stopping the killings. But it seems he might be back now,” Blackcrow said.

“So? You are going to track it down?” Glory asked.

“That’s what I intend to, yeah. Track it down and put it down. Avenge my father’s death.”

“So where will you start?” Caleb asked.

“I’m quite a tracker myself. My dad taught me. After the skinwalker strikes again I will be sure to arrive at the crime scene as fast as possible, when the tracks are still fresh.”

“Strikes again?” the boy said.

“Yeah, afraid so. When the skinwalker starts killing he won’t stop until things get a little bit too dangerous for him,” Blackcrow said.

Glory shuddered. “I really don’t want to think about more killings.”

The boy put a hand on Glory’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. I’ll protect you. That skinwalker doesn’t scare me.”

“Fuck all that stupid talk!” Caleb said. “There’s no such thing no matter what that idiot says. It’s just some stupid asshole who needs therapy. Or a bullet from my shotgun. And if he shows up here again he’ll be sure to get it.”

“Be careful,” Blackcrow said. “You might not believe me, but that skinwalker is hard to kill. So be careful and call me right away when you see something suspicious?” He handed Glory a business card.

Glory tucked away the card in her jeans. “I will.”

“Good. Take care of yourselves,” Blackrow said and walked back to his car.

“Lunatic,” Caleb told Glory, twirling his finger near his temple.

“He seemed pretty sure of himself. And mentally stable,” Glory said.

“I’ve seen a few stranger things the last few months,” the boy said. “Things people would relegate to the realm of fiction as well. There’s some strange things out there.”

“Quit that nonsense!” Caleb said. “Get to work!” With those words he walked away.

Glory shrugged at the boy. He shrugged back as well. They both laughed.

“What was that all about? That story about the stranger things you saw?” Glory asked the boy. He was starting to become more and more peculiar.

“Never mind. You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” the boy said.

“Well, these days more strange things seem to happen. You sounded pretty heroic there when you said you were going to protect me.”

“Not really. I read somewhere a hero is someone who conquers his fear. I have no fear to conquer.”

Glory just couldn’t believe the things that boy said. Still not over the fact she thought she saw him in her room she just had to ask, “Did you sleep okay?”

“Sleep okay? Yeah, sure. I was pretty tired from the trip over here. Why?”

“No reason. Just being polite,” Glory answered.

“All right. Thanks for asking. I’d better get to work,” the boy said.

“Yeah, sure. Let me help you out a bit,” Glory said. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to help the boy or keep an eye on him. Yeah, strange things…

Skinwalker Valley - Chapter Four

FOUR

After some time Glory managed to fall asleep, the warm comfort of her blankets overcoming the worries going around in her head. Her sleep was soon interrupted though by a strange, uneasy feeling she had. The feeling you get when someone is in the room with you, that kind of energy you cannot explain but are aware of, like a rabbit sensing the nearby predator. She slowly opened her eyes. There was someone there. An athletic, young body. It was still too dark to be sure though. Was it the boy?

“What… what are you doing here?” she murmured.

“I heard you scream,” the person said. But the voice sounded way older, gravelly than the boy’s.

Glory sat up in bed, covering her naked body with her sheets. The person in the room was her dad.

“Are you okay?” Caleb asked her.

“Yeah, I guess. Must have had a nightmare I guess.”

“Well, with everything that has happened the last few weeks that isn’t that strange.”

“Yeah, yeah I guess.” Why did she mistake her dad for the boy. It wasn’t like they looked alike. Even in the dark. She must have been still half asleep or something.

“Okay. Sweeter dreams then,” Caleb said and walked out of the room.

*

The next day Glory found the boy cleaning the stables, which basically came down to shoveling shit and dragging around big stacks of hay. His shirt was drenched with sweat but the didn’t show any signs of fatigue. Caleb was standing there, watching the kid with arms crossed. He looked like he approved.

“Hi,” she said. “I think I overslept.”

“You probably needed it then,” Caleb said.

“Good morning,” the boy said, leaning on his shovel for a minute to make eye contact with her.

“Are you doing okay?” Glory asked him.

“Just fine. Your dad told me what to do.”

“Great. Don’t forget to take a break every now and then. We don’t want you to collapse in the manure.”

The boy chuckled. “Thanks, I’ll be okay though.”

“Looks like we’re getting a visitor,” Caleb said, pointing behind Glory.

Glory turned around and through the open door of the stable saw a grey Silverado pickup truck park. A tall man in a beige uniform got out of it and walked towards them.

Glory and Caleb walked outside to greet him. Glory recognized the uniform of a conservation officer. The officer had a tan skin, looking Native American.

“Hi folks,” the officer said. “Michael Blackcrow, Utah Conservation Office.”

Glory and Caleb introduced themselves. “What brings you here?” Glory asked. “One of your colleagues visited us earlier and he said our slaughtered cattle was a job for the sheriff’s office.”

Blackcrow had a deep, warm voice. “Well. I happen to disagree. My father used to work at the Conservation Office as well. Some things about your case reminded me of something he’d worked on. Something that cost him his life.”

“His life? What the fuck are you talking about?” Caleb asked.

“My father thought he was on the trail of an ancient supernatural being called a skinwalker. The skinwalker slaughtered cattle and according to my father was responsible for a few missing persons. He thought he’d killed them. Worse, he even thought he’d killed some and

Caleb ‘s face reddened. “That’s totally batshit crazy! It’s terrible enough I have to suffer all these stupid tales from form employees and fucking tourists… Now even the Law starts to spout them.”

Glory put a hand on her dad’s shoulder. “Wait, let him speak.”

“I know it sounds incredible. Nobody believed my father either. But he was found dead in his car, his throat torn open. They said it was some kind of wild animal. I’m convinced he was killed by the skinwalker because he was getting to close to exposing him.”

“Tell me more about this skinwalker,” Glory said, intrigued. She noticed the boy had joined them. He looked fascinated as well.

“Yeah,” the boy said. “Please, tell us more.”

Skinwalker Valley - Chapter Three

THREE

The room was small but the bed comfortable enough. There was a small desk, a chair and a radio. The Waldorf Astoria it was not, but the boy had slept on park benches and under bridges during his travels, so it was just fine with him.

“Get yourself comfortable. I’ll fix some dinner after my shower,” Glory said.

The boy massaged his stomach. “Sounds great. I have to admit I’m a bit hungry.”

Glory left his room and entered the bathroom. It held a toilet and a shower, nothing more. She took off her clothes and stood under the shower head. She put on the tap and let the warm water run down her body, cleaning her of the sand that clung to her body after a day of hard work outside.

As she washed her body she thought of the boy. For a kid barely allowed to drive a car he seemed pretty smart and strong. And eager to work. She had a good feeling about him. Hopefully he would stay for a long time. Well, of course she was going to have to see him work. She usually was a pretty good judge of character though.

She put some shampoo in her hair, massaging it into her scalp. As she rinsed it out of her long hair she was suddenly startled by a noise. She stopped washing her hair and strained her ears to hear exactly what the noise had been. Was somebody at the door? There was the sound again. It was as if someone was at the door, indeed. She turned off the shower and walked to the door. She opened the door just a little bit, peeking through it. She saw the boy just turning around the corner in the hallway. Had he been at her door? Had he been… watching her shower?

She shuddered. No, she was imagining things. The boy seemed like such a nice kid. She had to be wrong. She didn’t feel like continuing her shower though. She quickly toweled off and got dressed. Time to fix some dinner.

*

The boy had just put on another shirt, this one sporting the Thrasher logo. He always traveled light, alternating between three shirts and two pairs of pants. That made sure his backpack was light so it was easy to travel and nobody would mind him hitching a ride because he had to much with him. He felt he should look clean for dinner. Especially to a lady as nice as Glory.

There was a knock on his door. He opened it and Glory was standing there. Her hair was a bit damp and she was wearing a dress and cowboy boots. She looked good in a dress.

“Dinner is ready,” she said.

“Awesome!”

“Did you maybe want to take a shower?” Glory asked.

“After dinner that would be great, thanks.”

“So not just now. Half an hour ago?”

“Half an hour? No, I was still resting on the bed.”

“Oh, that’s strange.”

“Strange?”

Glory shook her head. “Never mind, let’s have dinner.”

*

Glory turned out to be not only a beautiful woman but a great cook as well. The chicken, mashed potatoes and vegetables were great. The boy had a big glass of iced tea to go with it. The table was shared with Caleb and Glory. During dinner Caleb explained him what he was expected to do tomorrow. It sounded like a day of very hard work. He noticed Glory was a bit absent-minded though. He wondered what was bothering her. He decided to ask, no fear of course.

“Are you okay, Glory?”

The young woman blushed. “Yeah, I’m okay.”

“You seem… Preoccupied by something.”

“My mind just wanders sometimes, never mind,” Glory said.

“Preoccupied. You use fancy words for a kid,” Caleb noted.

The boy shrugged. “I read a lot when travelling.”

“Well, fancy words won’t get any work done. You’d better go to sleep right after dinner. There’s a day of hard work waiting for you tomorrow.”

“I will,” the boy agreed. He was also pretty sure something was bothering Glory, even if she said it wasn’t the case.