I wouldn’t return until the beast in the woods was dead
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Updated: October 29, 2009 5:03 PM
There was something very strange about our home. It was a tiny trailer made for papa, mama, my lil’ sister Louise and I. My mama, Joanne, who I loved dearly, picked this trail and land area because it was quiet, friendly, nothing like our old farm, and was exactly 17 miles away from the closest town. We had sold our old farm and farm animals to mama’s boss and only kept our old mutt who was now four years old from what the vet had told us. We had found our mutt, Drumstick, sleeping in the barn when he was just four months old. He had chased our cows and had been kicked in the rib leaving four of them broken. But luckily the vet was able to fix them upl After that, papa said he was a keeper because he was still young enough to train to herd sheep and cows and that he would soon be happy again and able to walk so he could start his training. And last is Louise, she’s only three years old and loves to explore and she also loves to play hide and seek and tag. By the way my papa’s name is Rufus. Enough with that, let’s get on with something scary.
I had heard rustling outside my window, so I got up to check it out. I was the only one who slept in a small bunk-bed by myself because my sister slept in between my parents in their bed. My room was separated from the rest of the trailer by a thick, puke-coloured curtain, yeah, ugly. Anyways, that dang rustling had been going on since we moved out here which was about two weeks. I never had the guts to get up and see but this night I was feeling quite daring and rebellious. I slid out of bed onto the cold wood floor and peered out the window. Nothing was there, then...something scratched on my window! It was a hideous black beast. I let out a scream, in my head, like a silent scream. It looked almost like a wolf but it was too big to be a wolf. It had huge clumsy paws that almost sliced through the whole window. It was tall like as in seven feet tall, it had razor sharp teeth and next thing I knew it was gone. I scrambled to get my lamp turned on, grabbed my drawing book from under the bed and a pencil off the night stand and drew like mad every single little detail of the beast I could remember. Then I grabbed a sharp steak knife from the kitchen and put it on my nightstand in sight and in reach in case of another attack. That night I didn’t get any sleep and I watched my window with my eyes glued to it playing the attack scene over and over in my head.
That wasn’t the harshest attack. One night the beast entered the trailer when I was home alone.
It was about five o’clock at night and I was watching TV, knife in hand and not actually watching the TV but the windows and door. The beast had entered snarling.
I was not scared of it anymore because it had tried to kill me a numerous amount of times, especially when my mama and papa weren’t home.
First I showed it the knife and backed away slowly.
When the beast charged, I took the knife and stabbed it through his leg. Yelping it ran off into the darkness. I decided if I didn’t get it now, I would never, so I grabbed my papa’s shotgun, my backpack with lots of food, extra bullets, got a a coat, toque, snow pants, mittens and warm boots and ventured off into the woods and decided that I wouldn’t return home until the beast was dead.
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