The Blue Stone

Randy Noble

Published by Randy Noble at Smashwords

Copyright 2010 Randy Noble

Smashwords Edition, License Notes
Thank you for downloading this free eBook. You are welcome to share it with your friends. This book may be reproduced, copied and distributed for non-commercial purposes, provided the book remains in its complete original form. If you enjoyed this book, please return to Smashwords.com to discover other works by this author. Thank you for your support.

***

Bill did what he so often did, which was to snap awake at 2:34 in the morning, sweat pouring over his grizzled face, his clothing soaked from a torrid night of tossing and turning. The memory of it, even after five years, would never be less than vivid and horrible. He ran both hands over his messy brown hair, pasting it to his head, and stared into space for a moment as he got his bearings. 

His wife of twenty years, twenty five to Bill because he never stopped counting, was found in a park on the outskirts of town, her chest cavity wide open with pieces of organs strewn about and flesh dangling from her body, as if a wild animal had ravaged her. Bill got the call at 2:34 in the morning that his wife had been found, by then missing about twelve hours, after she had gone out for a walk while Bill was at work.

When Bill snapped awake he decided to get up because he knew he wouldn’t be able to get back to sleep, at least not for a long time. Not while images of his wife being dragged into the bushes and torn to pieces still lingered in his mind. 

Parched, he made his way through a mess of books and magazines lying on the floor, his bare feet slapping on the hardwood floors of first the bedroom, and then the hallway to the stairs. He still wore jeans and a white t-shirt, falling asleep while reading, on the top of the blankets, the reading light still on.

Bright light from the moon of a clear night sky shone through the skylight over the stairs, lighting his way down to the entrance way of his two-storey house. Here and there, along the trip down the stairs, a book or two lay where Bill had last left them.

Bill made his way to the kitchen at the back of the house, going up a few stairs from the dining room to get to it. The moon created enough light through the window above the kitchen sink that there was no need to turn on the lights. 

The tap dripped steadily every few seconds, and Bill reminded himself to get it fixed soon, but the thought was short-lived as he plunged his head down into the sink, his mouth gaping under the faucet. He cranked on the cold water.

After several gulps and splashing water onto his face, he brought his head up and peered out the window. He proudly gazed upon his neatly trimmed lawn, with a cobblestone pathway running down the middle of the lawn to a circular patio. A bench sat in the middle of the patio, facing the back of the house. Both sides of the pathway were lined with rows of bright colored flowers. Along the back fence there were several maple trees, their leafy branches covering, but not crowding, the back yard.

As Bill scanned his yard, a blue light caught his eye, which was not there a second before. In the back right corner of his yard, among a maple, a large, glowing blue light radiated about the size of a man, but it didn’t look like a man -- more like a blob of blue. It didn’t seem to be coming from anywhere. Not from any light source. He wondered what the hell it could be. 

The light was motionless.

Is that a face? Bill wondered as a chill ran up his spine. It looked like an animal's face. The moonlight did not reveal much, and the blue seemed to be a part of it, hiding its appearance. The hairs on the nape of his neck rose, and a feeling of being watched.

One of his childhood fears stared him in the face. When he was nine years old, a television show aired on some mythological creature seen by a farmer staring out his back window. The creature glowed and moved in the blink of the farmer’s eyes from fifty feet away right up to the window. The glow covered a tall, gangly thing with a huge head, and carnival long arms with razor sharp claws on its massive hands. It gave him nightmares for a month, not going by any windows at night without covering his eyes as he did so.

He couldn’t look away. He wanted to, to turn away, to run, and not look back, but the fear of not knowing where it was was greater than the fear of knowing some thing was staring at him. Very aware of his heartbeat, he stared back at it, frozen. Silence droned, broken only by the steady drip of the faucet.

Drip.

The face in the blue glow started to bob. It bobbed to the left, then right, back and forth, all the while never dropping its gaze.

Drip.

What the hell is it doing?

Drip.

The face continued to bob, to stare.

Drip.

Look away. Just look away. It’s not real . . . it can’t be.

Drip.

Bobbing.

Drip.

Staring.

Drip.

Run. Just run.

Drip.

Teeth appeared in the face, like a mouthful of needles.

The dripping stopped, long enough for Bill to be distracted. He looked down at the sink as another drop of water plummeted to the metal basin, the steady dripping rhythm interrupted by a two second delay.

As Bill looked back up, he jumped back from the window, his heart almost stopping, his throat clenched, his hands gripping empty space. “Jesus Christ!”

He stared at the creature; its face loomed right at the window. White eyes glared back. It snarled at him, its needle teeth glistening in the moonlight. Its nose was stubby, almost non-existent, with three breathing holes. It was hairless, with a large, round head, dime-sized pock marks all over it, and holes for ears. Blue light surrounded it. 

He knew only two thin panes of glass separated himself from this thing, yet he continued to stare as a long, forked tongue plunged through its mess of teeth and licked the window. It felt like he was watching a movie, detached, not a part of his own physical self. Knowing the height to the base of the window was around seven feet, he figured the creature to be at least eight feet tall. 

Run. Run. But he didn’t run, even as the creature’s tongue retracted, and it brought up a large, black clawed hand attached to an impossibly long arm and scraped it down the glass with its teeth bared. It screamed.

Bill thought the glass would shatter, the scream so shrill and loud like a thousand fingernails scraping down a chalk board at the same time. He covered his ears with his hands, but it didn’t help much. 

He spent his life as a kid pulling things apart to see how they worked, then put them back together. And now, his career, building next generation digital projectors for digital video disc players and gaming consoles. He understood how things worked, and if he didn’t, he figured it out -- always. But now what? This thing made no sense. Why him? Why now? Some supernatural creature randomly attacking people? There had to be a reason. Only one thing made sense to him about this creature: soup bowl.

Its horrible scream ended.

As he watched the creature drag a clawed hand across his kitchen window again and again, staring at him with those white eyes, he had no doubt that this creature, or one like it, killed his wife. Soup bowl kept entering into his mind, a reference he’d heard when he identified his wife’s body.

He couldn’t remember ever feeling that afraid before, movement out of the question even though logic screamed at him to run. Sweat beaded on his face, his heart thumped hard in his chest, while the creature gouged glass with every swipe.

Bill had no doubt it would come through the glass and kill him if he moved. But if he stayed, the result wasn’t going to change. He took a step backward, slowly.

The creature didn’t hesitate. It smashed both its hands through the window towards Bill, as its blue glow disappeared.

Glass sprayed into and over the sink, and onto the floor.

Bill stepped back quickly, and bumped into his island counter. As he veered around the island, going backward and not taking his eyes off of the long arms reaching for him, he took sharp quick breaths as panic consumed him.

Its clawed hands were so close he could see black ooze seeping out of cuts on its flesh, what he could only imagine was blood. The arms were thin, almost like black flesh covered bone, and nothing else. No muscles. No fat. Each arm had two elbows so it had no problem reaching for Bill as he made his way around the island, bending one way with one elbow, then the other way with the other elbow.

Bill fell back, just as it grasped his shirt, tearing it as he fell out of its claws. His eyes, wider than he thought possible, were ready to burst.

It screamed again, whipping its head back and forth in fury.

Bill covered his ears, screaming out loud to try and drown it out.

The creature braced itself on the counter as it started to pull itself up and in. It let out a scream of pain as a shard of glass cut its face. 

Bill pulled himself up, ready to bolt, and then the creature dropped out of sight. Its head and then its arms disappeared from the window. Its goopy, black blood dripped over the shards of glass left in the frame.

He grabbed a white, cordless phone by the stove, and then headed down the stairs as fast as he could, taking two and three at a time. The basement opened up to a large room, with a TV and movie viewing area on one end, and a small library on the other. Bookshelves were built into one wall, books placed haphazardly. Bill walked to an open archway, near the television end, and into a smaller area with stairs going up to two computer desks. He plumped down into the nearest chair, and turned on the computer.

Bill dialed 911.

A serious female voice answered after one ring. “911. How can I help you?”

“Someone is trying to break into my house,” Bill said, not without some well earned panic in his voice, and as quick as he could so she wouldn’t cut him off. “There’s more than one, and they have guns.” He wanted help now, and he wanted them pulling up with their guns drawn.

“Okay sir. I’m dispatching units to your house now. Please stay on the line with --“

Bill hung up the phone.

His computer's screen glowed the Microsoft Windows' logo, almost booted up.

How much time for the cops? A few minutes, he figured, but couldn’t be sure.

“Come on!” he yelled at the computer.

How was it going to get in? 

He felt good in the basement, or as good as he could in the situation. No windows, and two ways in and out. If he heard it coming from one way, he’d go the other, if he didn’t freeze up again. 

How the hell was it going to get in though? Living room window or French doors off the back deck made the most sense to him. They were the most vulnerable, with large windows. Either way it came in, unless it came in some other way he didn’t think of, it would likely come down the stairs he came down, as the other stairs lead right to the upper level only.

Bill had every intention of searching on the internet about the creature, but wasn’t sure where to start. Black. Slim. Big round head. Large, needle-like teeth. White eyes. Long arms. Blue glow. Shit! I wish I knew what it was cal--

He cut himself off as he recalled the mythological creature he saw on TV as a kid. There were too many similarities to be a coincidence. It’s fucking real. All these years. He knew he had two books on mythology, or more accurately, his wife did.

Bill walked out of the computer area, phone in hand, and around into another, larger room off of the main one. Through another arch way, there was a pool table with balls scattered on red felt, and a bar along one wall with mirror backing. Glass shelves were filled with bottles of vodka, rye whiskey, rum, grenadine, and various liqueurs, most of them half empty or more. He walked behind the small, dark wooded bar and grabbed a bottle of rye, twisted the cap, and drained the remains down his throat in seven large gulps.

He found the name “Jack” on the phone directory of his cordless phone, and connected to it as he walked over to the bookshelves looking for his wife’s mythology books.

A groggy, irritated voice came over Bill’s receiver. “Who the hell is this?”

“Jack. No time to explain. I need you to pick me up.”

“Bill? Is this Bill? Are you fucked in the head? It’s --“ 

Bill heard rummaging over the phone. 

“. . . three in the morning. Are you drinking again?”

“No…well, yes -- a little -- but it doesn’t matter. I’m not drunk. I’m in trouble. Meet me in front of --“

“You really need to buy a car again. Who cares if they won’t give you a driver’s license. Fuck ‘em.”

“Jack, I’ll owe you. Please.”

“Strip joint.”

“Yeah, okay.”

“Lap dances.”

“Yeah, yeah. Just meet me in front of Charlie’s. Five -- no, ten minutes.” Bill hung up, before Jack could disagree, hoping he would meet him.

Glass shattered upstairs somewhere, as Bill continued his book search.

He thought it was probably the living room window, and he knew his time was short. The booze helped him at first, but now its effects were useless. His heart hammered in his chest.

Bill turned and ran through the room, through the computer room, and up the stairs.

Where the hell are the cops?

The stairs wound up in a spiral. Bill took two steps at a time, passing a stained glass window near the top, coming out of the stairwell into the hallway by the master bedroom.

Staring at Bill, across the hallway by the top of the stairs down to the entrance way, was the creature, its eyes glowing in the moonlight from the skylight above the stairs. Its legs were as long and thin as its arms. Its clawed feet were massive. There were no genitals on it, at least none that Bill could see. The creature had no hair anywhere on its body.

Bill moved first, not freezing up this time, the relaxing effects of the booze now kicked in and giving the needed boost of courage. He dashed into the bedroom, slammed the door and locked it, and threw down a nearby dresser that smashed down inches in front of the door, drawers spilling contents of socks and underwear.

Bookshelves lined the wall by the headboard of the bed. Bill frantically searched the shelve contents, but something else caught his eye on the bed side table. A round blue rock sat on the table, the size of a large grape. What caught his eye was the color. It was dimmer, no glow, but the same shade of blue as the creature’s glow that emanated around it when it was outside.  

The door slammed open, into the fallen dresser, only a crack.

The creature reached in at Bill, as he jumped onto and rolled over to the other side of the bed. He picked up a chair used to hang his clothes on at night. A pair of socks spilled off the back of the chair and onto the floor as he picked it up and slammed it into the bedroom window, cracking it. 

His attention quickly went back to the shelves, wide-eyed and searching. 

As soon as the creature realized it couldn’t reach Bill, it slammed its body into the door, pushing the dresser slightly, the door opening wider with each slam.

Bill started to bring the chair up for another chance of escape, and then he saw them. Two books, side by each: Mythology, Mysticism, Magic, and Mayhem Volumes I and II. He slammed the window with the chair, cracking it some more, pieces breaking and falling onto the hardwood floor. 

The hair on the back of his neck stood up as the creature fitfully tried to get to him.

The doorbell rang, and between his own panting and the creature’s growling and hisses, he distinctly heard a voice say, “City police. Are you okay?”

“Help! Help!” Bill yelled. “They’re in here! They’ve got guns!”

The front door smashed in.

The creature screamed furiously at Bill, and then took off, he assumed towards the newcomers.

Bill hoped they had their guns out. They had to have drawn them, especially after the chilling scream it made. He jumped up onto the bed, and grabbed the books. Jumping down onto the other side, he grabbed the blue stone and pocketed it, then made for the door before he chickened out.

Poking his head through the door opening, he saw the creature at the top of the stairs.
 
One of the cops spoke up. “Jesus-fucking-Christ!”

Gun shots erupted, echoing loudly in the hallway.

Bill slid through the door opening, glancing left to see the creature was gone. Judging by the continuing gun shots, he knew it was charging the cops. Murderer kept penetrating his thoughts, over and over. No! No I’m not. It’s their job to protect and serve. Murderer. Murderer. Murderer.

He could hear the cops' voices in the front yard, still shooting as the creature screamed in fury, and what Bill also hoped was pain.

Just one more drink, that’s all he wanted. One more. Murderer. 

Bill ran down the stairs by the master bedroom, nearly tripping over his own feet. He hesitated slightly as he passed the archway to the bar, but kept on, up the stairs, through the kitchen, and to the back porch French doors. He quickly unlatched the two locking mechanisms on the door and raced outside, away from the house and towards where he first saw the creature.

Murderer. Murderer. Murderer. Shut up! 

“Zach,” came a voice from the front yard, he assumed from one of the cops. “Look out!” Three successive gun shots exploded in the air. 

Someone screamed.

And then the same voice that yelled “Zach”, said, “let him go, fucker!”

The barks of dogs filled the neighborhood.

Bill didn’t hang around. He jumped over the fence, and ran, ran to meet his friend, feeling guilty and thankful at the same time, carrying two books under his arms.

In front of a strip mall was a sub shop, chiropractor, insurance, and a pub called Charlie’s Place. The red neon sign from the bar was dark and there was no sign of life other than a white extended-cab Ford truck parked parallel to the mall, its sole occupant slumped at the wheel. 

Jack struggled to stay awake. A short, slightly overweight -- by his standards -- man, with a shaved bald head, and a salt and pepper goatee. Two cardboard air fresheners, in the shape of breasts, dangled from his rear view mirror.

Jack’s head lolled back.

Bill wrenched open the passenger door and Jack snapped awake. “Jesus! You scared the shit out of me.”

Bill's face dripped sweat, his eyes wide. “Drive.”

“What?” Jack said. “You’ve got to tell me what’s going on. I haven’t seen or heard from you in two months, and you call me at three in the morning asking for a ride.” Jack slurred slightly.

“Are you drunk?” Bill said.

“You woke me up at three in the fucking morning. Of course I’m drunk. Nothing I can’t handle, thanks.”

“Fine, whatever. It’s probably best anyway. Lessen the blow.”

“What blow?”

“Please drive,” Bill said. “I’ll explain everything if you’ll just drive, but don’t go near my house.”

Traffic was almost non-existent as Jack drove around the city, and Bill explained what happened, including showing the blue rock to Jack. And, after many “are you fucking with me?” and “you’re drunker than I am” statements, Jack could see Bill was serious and terrified.

Jack continued to drive as Bill started searching through first volume one, and then two, before coming upon a dog-eared page with an artists rendition of the creature that tried to attack him. 

Two books, and the only marked page was his creature, marked by his dead and mutilated wife. She didn’t go to the park that day for a relaxing walk, he now knew, but to hopefully see one of the creatures. But how did she know to go there? She had always been fascinated by the paranormal, and she got more than she expected.

Why were the creatures so hell bent on killing? Before Bill started reading about the creature, he realized it must have something to do with the blue rock, now in his pocket.

It was at the park, the park his wife was murdered, that he found it. He visited the park every day since her death, sometimes walking along the path through the trees surrounding an open, grassy area, or sitting on the benches by the large fountain in the middle of the park. But earlier in the day, he found a bench with a view looking down on the forest outside the city, a forest of deciduous trees. And one particular tree, just ten feet in front of the bench, stood out. It was like some of the others, but more vibrant, with a thicker trunk, bushier branches, lush. It almost seemed to beam. And, on the ground, there was a large branch which looked like someone had ripped it down, because it wasn’t dead or dry. Probably some kids drinking in the park, hanging on the branch, and it broke off. Bill saw a couple of beer bottles near the tree.

The glint from something shiny caught his eye. Set, like it was part of the tree, in the knoll where the branch came off, was the small, round, shiny blue stone. He remembered it brighter than it was now.

Bill brought his attention back to the book, as Jack babbled on about his sexual exploits. Bill did not listen to him, but Jack didn’t seem to mind as he entertained himself with what Bill assumed was ninety-nine percent bullshit.

Bill’s wife called Jack “eternally single by nature” and didn’t like him very much. But, Jack helped Bill through the tough years after her death, though mostly as a drinking buddy and not much more. Bill didn’t share Jack’s slovenly and perverted ways. Garbage littered the back seating area with empty beer cans, chip bags, and chocolate bar wrappers. Jack was decidedly unkempt.

Bill started reading from the book out loud, and Jack shut up and listened. 

Bill’s eyes widened with every successive passage. And, when he was done, his eyes welled up and tears streamed down his face.

Without looking at Bill, Jack said, “Do you believe it?”

“Not a doubt in my mind.”

“I normally wouldn’t buy into any of this, but if you say so, that’s good enough for me. If you need a drink, there’s something for you in the glove compartment.”

Bill opened the glove compartment and pulled out a small, silver flask. He yanked off the cap and took a big gulp. He offered it to Jack, but Jack shook his head.

“Nah,” Jack said. “I don’t drink that shit.” Jack paused for a moment. “I know you didn’t ask, but I’m helping whether you want it or not.”

Bill didn’t dispute it. “I appreciate that, Jack.” And he did, but he also knew that he could no longer be friends with Jack. It ended tonight, even on the off chance he lived. His life of self-pity, remorse, and self-torture were over. Anger was a different story. He needed it tonight, and he welcomed it. 

“So,” Jack said, “I gather if anything you just read is true, it’ll follow us anywhere?”

“It has to. We’d do the same thing . . . except fucking murder.” From five years of not knowing what happened, to understanding it all in minutes. He understood what it wanted and why, but he couldn’t forgive it for what happened to his wife. Never. 

Murderer.

Shut up! Bill thought to himself. No time. No time to ponder recent events. Plenty of time for that later -- if he lived.

“Take me to a gas station,” Bill said. “We’ll need to be quick.”

At a large filling station, both Bill and Jack went inside, purchased two jerry cans, and filled them up. 

With the jerry cans in the back of the truck, they headed towards the park. 

Along a tree-lined roadway was where Bill saw it, the bright moonlight helping him spot it. The creature was following them, just inside the tree line. According to the story he read about it, it always knows where the blue stone is, and would do anything to keep it safe.

“There it is,” Bill said, pointing at it as it kept up with them at thirty miles an hour, in the trees. 

“What? Where?” Jack said, not without some panic in his voice.

“There, Jack.” Bill pointed. “Right beside us. It’s not glowing like it did before, but it’s right there and moving fast.”

Jack saw it, his eyes snapping out of any drunken state he had previously been in. “Jesus!” Jack stepped on the gas. “It’s a big bastard.” Jack’s grip on the steering wheel tightened, as the hairs on the back of his neck stood up.

“It’s falling behind. Drive, Jack. Fast. Get there as fast as you fucking can.”

Jack floored the truck. “No problem.”

Bill finished off the rest of the flask, glancing back into the trees to look for the creature, but he couldn’t see it. How fast could it possibly go? Not faster than thirty, not in the trees. He hoped against hope that they could get a lead on it, or they’d never get to the park.

When they got near the park, on the outskirts of town, Jack slowed, not knowing where to go.

The city lights shone to their left and the park to their right.

Bill grabbed the wheel and turned the truck into the park. “Don’t stop. Just cut across the park to the far end.”

Jack didn’t question it. He sped up to forty and steered around park benches, picnic tables, garbage bins, slides, swings, and teeter totters.

“There it is!” Bill said, pointing to a tree on their left. 

Jack cranked the wheel. 

As they came closer, Jack started to slow down.

“What the hell are you doing?” Bill said. He brought his leg over and stomped on Jack’s right foot. The engine revved and they accelerated.

Murderer.

“Stop it, Bill.” Jack tried wrestling Bill’s foot off of his, but Bill wouldn’t budge.

Tears streamed down Bill’s face.

“You’re gonna fucking kill us both!” Jack said. 

Bill looked over at Jack, and then took his foot off of Jack’s and jumped on the brakes.

They both lurched forward, hard, the seatbelts keeping them in place.

The truck tires gouged up grass, as they slid to a stop.

“Get out, Jack, and take the gas with you.” Bill started to slide over, even though Jack wasn’t moving. “Quick! There’s no time.” Even though Jack was bigger than him, Bill helped him on his way by unbuckling his seat belt, opening his door, and pushing him out.

Jack said nothing as he complied with his friend’s wishes. He stumbled out of his truck. Bill quickly snapped on the seatbelt. 

Jack reached for the jerry cans.

Bill floored the truck with the driver’s side door still open. The tires spun in the grass for a second, and then he was off, Jack just barely grabbing the jerry cans in time. The driver’s side door closed from the thrust of the acceleration.

*****

Jack felt very vulnerable without the metal protection of his truck. He knew the creature was on its way, but no idea how long before it would arrive. He watched as his truck accelerated away from him, guessing Bill was going about eighty when the truck slammed into the tree. Slamming the truck into the tree had not been part of the plan. 

When the truck slammed into the tree, both the truck and the tree suffered severely. The impact bowled the tree over at the trunk, and stopped the truck as if it slammed into a concrete wall, crumpling the front end in.

The tree crashed down onto the ground, as the truck lifted up from the back end, tilted to the right, and rolled onto its side.

Truck lights shone through a dusty cloud as the tires spun in a whine. The engine was dead, and the tires slowed as there was nothing left to power them. 

“Jesus Christ!” Jack said as he ran up to the devastation. “Bill! Bill, are you okay?” He hoped the airbag deployed.

Jack came around to the front of the truck, his heart pounding. “Bill!”

Bill was conscious, but a little disoriented, still strapped in but slumped downward because the truck was on its side. He carefully unbuckled himself, holding onto the steering wheel so he didn’t fall. He threw the driver’s door open with his free hand, and pulled himself up and out, Jack helping him down.

“Are you okay?” Jack said, but Bill ignored him.

Bill grabbed one of the jerry cans from Jack.

Jack nodded. “You’re fine, aren’t you?” He said it to himself, not as a question to Bill. “You fucking asshole! You wrecked my truck!”

Bill started pouring gasoline on the undercarriage of the truck, and then on the mowed over tree.

“You owe me a truck if insurance fucks me over, which I know they will.”

Bill emptied the jerry can.

“Give me your lighter,” Bill said.

If there wasn’t a fucked up looking creature coming after them, Jack would have punched Bill. He knew that’s why he let Bill push him out of the truck, but seeing it happen, seeing Bill use him, was not going to be forgotten any time soon. 

“I don’t smoke any more,” Jack said.

“What?” 

A piercing shriek filled the night air.	

Jack and Bill’s heads whipped towards the sound.

“Jesus! Is that fucking it?” Jack’s mouth opened, his eyes darted left and right looking for it.

Bill pulled himself up to look in the truck’s driver’s side window.

“Don’t bother,” Jack said. “There’s no lighter in the truck -- Jesus! We’ve gotta run for it, man.”

“No.”

“It’ll fucking tear us apart.”

“No more running.” Bill picked the rock out of his pocket as another shriek erupted nearby.

One hundred feet? Twenty feet? Jack couldn’t tell.

Bill wound up and threw the rock into the trees as hard and far as he could, which only turned out to be fifty feet or so.

Jack ran, away from the truck, dropping the jerry can after a few strides, forgetting that he was even holding it anymore until he got some distance between himself and Bill.

*****

Thank you, my friend, Bill thought to himself, glad that Jack would likely be safe. Bill plopped onto the grass, looking over the devastation he created, calm. When he turned to the right, he saw the inevitable. The creature bore down on him, running on all fours, looking like the skeleton of some large animal.

In the few moments before his death, Bill pondered the story his wife had read from the mythology book. Why the hell did she come out here looking for it? She couldn’t have known what it would do. 

The story told of the creature, which came from another world, but used ours for protection. The blue stone was part of it somehow, its life force, its energy, whatever you want to call it. The stone, harder than a diamond, was a protective shell around this force. Upon birth, the stone gets placed into the trunk of a tree, and a branch grows from this mating, the life of the tree and the stone feeding off of one another, keeping the creature and the tree strong. Without access to this energy, the creature’s enemies could not kill it. The only way to destroy the creature was to destroy the stone, which Bill did not have a means to do.
 
The creature knows when the stone has separated from the tree and when the stone is in danger. When Bill’s wife found it, intentionally found it, the stone’s owner came, killed her for knowing of its existence, and then probably re-mated it with another tree.
 
Now that Bill accidentally found the stone, the creature couldn’t let him live. It was just protecting itself.
 
Fucked.
 
And straight to hell for probably killing two cops.
 
But maybe, just maybe, he could see his wife again.
 
Bill closed his eyes as the creature neared, its teeth bared, not slowing.
 
He waited…and waited. What the hell? It should have mauled him by now. He dared a peak, and it wasn’t there. He looked to his left and caught a glimpse of it running into the trees, knowing it was going for the stone first.
 
Bill idly noticed some jumper cables strewn to the left of the truck. He looked into the trees, waiting for it to come back. His head snapped back to the cables.
 
Bill jumped up and raced to the cables. He grabbed them and ran over to the bashed in front of the truck. He lifted the crumpled hood with a loud creak.
 
The battery was pushed back, but still there, still intact.
 
There would still be power. Please God let there still be some juice in this thing.
 
Bill connected the red alligator clamp to the positive battery post and the black clamp to the negative post.
 
Just as he started to bring the other ends down to a pool of gas over the tree trunk, he caught movement in his peripheral.
 
He quickly brought the two clamps together, sparks erupting.
 
Fire burst out.
 
The creature leapt at Bill, and he instinctively jumped back, the creature crashing into the front of the truck.
 
As it shook its head, the fire spread over the tree and onto the truck.
 
It screamed in pain and then jumped at Bill. He avoided it again, falling on his ass, the creature just missing him. Before Bill had a chance to move again, the creature was on him.
 
The grass surrounding the truck caught fire, and then spread, like it was gasoline, into the forest.

The creature straddled Bill, placed one of its massive hands onto the back of his head, and forced his head down to the ground.
 
"Just do it!" Bill yelled at it, but it didn't. It seemed to study him, look him over, drool pouring out of its teeth and dripping onto Bill’s shirt.
 
Bill didn’t fight it, and his heart wasn’t racing as fast as he thought it should be. He waited for it, welcoming it. The booze sapped any fight he had left.
 
The creature brought its claw up, and as it started its down swipe, several loud cracks filled the air in quick succession. The creature looked up.
 
Bill tried to look but couldn’t turn his head with the creature’s claw holding it down. He struggled, got free, and glanced at the creature, noticing it had the blue stone in the palm of its left hand. The stone looked dimmer than it did before.

The creature glared towards the park, not paying any attention to Bill. Whether it was instinct, a little voice inside his head, or whatever you want to call it, Bill grabbed the stone, plucked it into his mouth, and swallowed. As Bill did this, rips in the air sliced everywhere, and from these rips came more creatures. The tear in the air looked like a cut in flesh, the sides of reality hanging off each way, and a black hole of nothingness filled the void, except for the long, gangly creatures stepping out of them.
 
All of them ran into the trees, probably to find their stone, their life force, with no regard for the blaze before them.

Bill's creature followed the others with its gaze, as they scattered into the trees, and then it looked down at Bill. That was when it realized the stone was gone. It shrieked into Bill's face, spittle spraying him, burning his eyes with an acidity similar to grape fruit. His ears rang. 

Bill closed his eyes tight and the pain subsided. His eyes watered. 

Sound came back quickly, a chirping noise, like a bird would make, one after the other, from the trees. Maybe they were communicating. Bill could hear tree branches cracking and snapping. A sea of creatures poured through the openings and made their way into the forest. And more of them kept flooding through after the others.

The creature picked him up with both clawed hands, grabbing him by the shoulders, and then it leapt from its hind quarters. It jumped ten feet forward, away from the fire, planting Bill with a hard thud to the ground. 

Bill couldn't breathe for a second, and then took a deep breath when he got his wind back.

The creature moved its face an inch from Bill's, its teeth bared, the eyes seething, and then it moved down his body, stopping at his stomach. It pinned his legs with its back claws, tearing through his jeans when it did, slashing flesh on both legs. A small amount of blood oozed from the wounds. He didn't feel it.

And then it grabbed his shirt up with both front claws and tore it away. His shirt fell to the ground in pieces, only the back of the shirt remained intact. It ran its right claw from his chest down to his stomach, scratching at his flesh, but not cutting him. 

It tapped one claw on his stomach, over and over, looking up at Bill's face, and then its tongue protruded from its mouth and it licked from his pant line to his belly button. It felt like when he went fishing as a kid, trying to hold onto the fish while attempting to get the hook from its mouth: slippery, slimy, and a smell like a decaying carcass. 

It made clicking noises as it eyed Bill again. And then the creature jumped up and over Bill, using his legs as a spring board. He felt it this time and let out a scream of pain. 

Bill flipped around to see where it went, and he just caught it running from where it landed and into one of the openings. It was gone, for now. Bill forced his aching body up, turned to look at the blazing chaos of the forest, and ran away from the park towards the city.

Bill never went to the park again. He wondered if he wouldn't shit the stone out, but it never passed, and in less than a week he knew for sure. It was a part of him now, feeding off him, and him from it. The creature must have figured the stone was as safe, if not safer, with him, than a tree, and let him be. 

He never got sick again in his life and had a boundless energy that exhausted friends. Bill never slept more than three hours a night ever again.

Would the creature appear in his life again? There was no doubt in Bill's mind that if it did show, he would no longer be the hunted, and pitied any poor bastard that tried to harm him.
 
No illusions, no mercy, only taking it moment by moment, no matter the state of mind, never over indulging, just comfortably numb, relaxed. Eventually, Bill built his life back up again, making friends, no longer snapping awake. And one day, without thinking, without guilt, without sorrow, without his mind’s seemingly endless chatter, he talked to a woman, with intent.

###

I hope you enjoyed the story. I watched a TV show when I was a kid with a story on a person looking out a window who saw something strange in the distance, and in the blink of an eye it was right at the window. It freaked me out, and I remember this show supposedly was based on real events. So that's where the idea for this story stemmed from and is my take on what the thing in the window was. Thanks for reading.

Randy Noble