Rikity Tig (special story)

(Created in collaboration with Kietstin LaPatka. This story isn't mu usual project, it could be scary and could be upsetting.)

    Living in a small town with not much to do, you find ways to pass the time. You can hang out with friends, go swing some golf clubs in someone’s yard, loiter at the diner, or join the bonfire in the woods. Not exactly the best group of options to choose from but that was all there was. In a small town, everything closes before eight except the church and the bars. Turns out, the church isn’t exactly  everyone’s brand of whiskey. Worse, I’m not a fan of either. 

    I was used to being pushed around by my friends. I was dragged from one thing to another at the mercy of their boredom. Most of the time we stayed in the department store until it closed. After that, we goofed around in the parking lot. They would drink, smoke, whatever. I would hold the same can of beer all night maybe taking a sip or two. Usually, the later it got, the more I’d start thinking about heading home.

    The bonfire that took place in the woods was usually older kids and was held by people from the neighboring town. Lots of people went there, a sort of melting pot of the tri-county area. I had heard stories about it and how out of hand it could get. While the allure of sitting by a warm fire all night was there, everything that happened around it was enough to give me pause. But like I said, I usually didn’t have a choice, what else was there to do? 

    I was dragged along to the bonfire on an unusually cold night. I had decided I was going just to keep my head down and stay by the bonfire, holding the same beer can all night if I was lucky. Once we arrived, there was already a fight happening. Two boys were shirtless and grabbing and punching at one another while the crowd whooped and hollered. 

    I ducked away, finding myself amongst a crowd of black-garbed, white-faced teens. Most of them were smoking, and their dismissive stares made me feel a bit better than the fight happening. I find an old plastic lawn chair to sit in, and I pick at my nails until my fingers get warm again.

    “Not a UFC fan either, huh?”

    I nearly jump out of my skin once someone starts talking to me. Looking up, one of the black-clad teens is standing behind me. His long black hair covers half his face. I recognize him, he’s one of my friend’s older brother. 

    I can’t help but a smile a bit. “Oh, I don’t mind UFC. I just don’t like-” I glance over to the fight still going on beyond the fire. “Whatever ballet that is.”

    He sits down in a chair beside me and laughs. “You ever seen ballet? It’s much more brutal than that will ever be.”

    I laugh and nod. I see he’s got a soda in his hand. “Where’d you get that?”

    He juts his leg out and opens up one of the many pockets on his pants, inside is another can of soda. “Never go anywhere without it.” He takes it out and offers it to me.

    “Awesome, thanks,” I sit back in the old seat again and open up the can.

    “So what brings you out to the middle of the woods in the late evening?” He says with a smirk. “Aside from wanting to sound like the beginning of a bad movie?”

    “They brought me,” I answer, nodding over to my friends. “Or well, dragged me,” I grumble.

    He then stands up. “Well, would you like to walk then? Step away for a moment?” He holds his hand out to me.

    I look up at me and duck my head down, chuckling as my heart begins to hammer. “Yeah,” I nod. “Ok.” I take his hand as I stand up. To my surprise, he doesn’t let go.

    “Hey,” a friend from my group comes running up. “Where are you going?”

    “Just on a walk,” her brother huffs.

    She frowns at him. “Let me come too.” She motions behind us. “This is not what I expected to find.”

    “Yeah, that’s fine,” I answer, but her brother seems less enthused. 

    We walk into the woods, going down a small worn out path many teens have probably walked down before. He gently squeezes my hand, and then a smirk appears on his lips. 

    “What’s that about?” I giggle, reaching up and poking his cheek.

    He laughs and swats my hand away. “I’m surprised people still even come here at all. After the...well, you know.”

    “I do know,” I chuckle.

His sister scoffs beside me.

    “Oh, you do?” He leans toward me. “You know what’s happened here?”

    I scoff and look over at him. “Same thing that happens in every woods. Right?” I turn my head up, expecting a kiss.

    He grins. “Not every woods.” He looks around then leans back in. “You heard of the murder cabin, right?”

“Really?” His sister snaps. “You’re going to bring that up?”

“Why not?” He laughs.    

    I scoff. “Yeah, every town everywhere has a murder cabin.” To be honest, I hadn’t heard of anything like that here.

    “Well,” he starts swinging out hands back and forth. “Not far from here there’s this old, run-down cabin right?” 

“Right?” I arch my brow. 

“What for? Who owns it?” He shrugs and makes a face. “Well, my old man told me that, when he was a kid, two brothers owned that cabin for when they hunted. Bill and Bob, I think. He said they used to come into town, get supplies, go to the cabin, come back and eat at the diner, and then leave. Only thing is-” he shrugs and smirks, “they never came back the last time.”

    I frown. “Oh,” I grumble. “So, what happened to them?”

    “A plus flirting,” his sister whispers over my shoulder.

    “What do you think happened to them?” He asks me. “Two men alone in a cabin, lots of guns, an ax for chopping wood, what could happen?”

    “Lions?” I ask. “Tigers? Maybe a bear?” I shrug.

    I snort and wave my hand. “Ok, this has been fun, but enough of that.”

    “I’m serious,” he hisses. “My old man said that the cops went out to the cabin to look for them and they found them right away.”

    I grimace. “Ok,” I murmur. 

    “Both of them were dead, and it was obvious that they had killed each other,” he whispers.

    I cut my eyes toward him. “What does that mean?”

    “They were both ripped open. Bob had an ax to the gut, Bill had taken a shotgun blast from his back.” The guy whispers. “No one knows exactly what happened. My dad thinks the brothers had turned on one another. He said they had money, but they wanted all the money. You know, sometimes, when you’re a twin, you kind of think the same thing.”

    “Oh c’mon,” his sister growls under her breath.

    “They said it was such a gruesome scene no one ever went back to the cabin,” he continues. “They left it to rot, to be forgotten,” he looks out into the woods. “If you don’t believe me, would you like to go see it?”

    “Yeah sure,” I roll my eyes. “Take me to the murder cabin,” I say sarcastically and wave my hands in the air.

    He leads me to this bunkhouse, which was more like a large cabin. It was old and rotting away. In a way, it’s almost pretty, the way the moss was growing on the shingles, and wooden sides. It’s tilting to the side and is covered by vines and moss. The windows are all shattered, and the smell of mold and mildew is thick in the air. There is police tape hanging from the door and windows, proving that maybe this guy’s story was somewhat true.

    “Home sweet home,” the guy whispers.

    “Mmmm, cozy” his sister huffs, crossing her arms tight against her chest. She then walks up to the old police tape and ducks under it.

    He brother follows behind her, turning back as the tape falls behind him. Obviously, they’ve been here before. He plucks up the tape again, raising it so I can follow behind him.

    “I take it you two have come here before?” I ask.

    “Our dad likes to come out here,” my friend replies. “Says he thinks there’s something out here.”

    “Like what?” I ask.

    They both shrug and shake their heads. 

    The dark haired boy then motions to you. “Ladies first,” he says, stepping aside to allow you first dibs at the door.

    “There’s not anything in there right?” I ask anxiously.

    My friend laughs. “No dead bodies if that’s what you’re thinking.” She shakes her head. “Nah, in all the times Dad has dragged us out here we’ve not anything at all. No dead bodies, nothing gross, no ghosts.”

    “Yet,” he winks.

    I chuckle and reach out, pulling open the door. I peer inside, “it smells gross.” I grumble as I step inside. “How long has it been since-” the door slams shut behind me and I scream. I turn around, seeing the way the doorframe slants, I shouldn’t be surprised.

    “Oh shit, that scared me!” I bang on the door. “Can you get it open?”

    “Hold on a sec!” I hear the guy say. “This does this a lot. We’ll get it open.”

    “Sorry! Should’ve warned you,” you friend calls to you.

    I sigh and relax. “Ok thanks. Hurry, it smells like death in here,” I grumble.

    They bang on the door and try to open it. They hit it with all their might. They cuss and scoff then knock on the door. 

    “Hey! Are you ok? Are you still in there?” Your friend calls.

    “Yeah, I’m fine!” I laugh. “Stop playing and just get the door open.”

    It’s quiet for a beat, and then they knock again. “Are you in there! Hey! Are you ok?”

    I hesitate, staring at the door. I rush up to it, slamming myself against it and trying to beat it open. I grab hold of the doorknob and try to twist it, but it is as immovable as a stone. I bang on the door again.

    “I’m here!” I shout. “I’m here! It’s ok! But you’re freaking me out.”

    “Why isn’t she answering,” my friend whimpers. “Why isn’t she saying anything?”

    “Hey, calm down it’s ok. Maybe she’s just playing with us.” Her brother whispers calmingly to her.

    “She’s not saying anything, and the door has never done this before!” She’s starting to cry.

    I bang on the door and throw myself into it. “I’m here! I’m here!” I scream. “Hey!” I slam my fists into the door. “I’m here!” I gasp and rush over to the window, but when I gaze out the window, all I see is thick white fog.

    “What the fuck?” I tremble. I rush back to the door, and I can hear their hushed voices.

    “I’ll go get Dad,” the guy says. “Stay here in case she shows up. I’ll get my friends to come over here with you.”

    “Hurry!” Your friend cries.

“But I’m here!” I huff and put my hands over my eyes. I slide down the door as I feel hot the sharp spike of tears rise up. I shudder and pull my knees to my chest. 

    After a few moments, I decide to find another way out of the house. There must be another door, or even a window I can get out of. I wipe my eyes and look around. It’s dark inside, and I can barely make out the shapes of things. I can see a fireplace and what looks like old chairs. Above the mantle, there is what looks like a mounted deer head, but it looked rotted away and decayed by nature. 

    The longer I stare at it, the more it looks like it’s moving. I rub my eyes and look back at it. It is still but then the jaws start to open up and something black and wet drops to the ground in front of me. I scream and run, hitting the wall and bouncing off of it I fall through an open door. I reach out to brace myself, but I find no floor. I fall, and I fall, finally striking stairs and then tumbling down them, unable to stop.

I feel cold concrete against my cheek, and I start to shake and cry again. My body aches from the fall and the shock.

“Don’t cry.”

Surely, I didn’t hear that.

The dull sound of boots on concrete comes towards me.

I close my eyes tight. I am not hearing this.

“Don’t cry,” the grave like voice whispers. I hear the scraping of metal. “Be quiet.”

I look up to see a large shape standing before me. They’re wearing boots, and they’re dragging an ax on the ground behind them. The closer they get and with each step they take something splatters on the ground behind them.

“Oh my god,” I whisper as I try to pick myself up.

“Sshh,” they raise their hand into the darkness. “Be quiet.”

I scream and pick myself up, climbing up the stairs, nearly falling down them again. I run through the door, but when I am back upstairs, the room has changed. There is no front door, no windows. I am in a long dark hallway with a fireplace at the end. The fire inside is glowing and crackling. Above is the deer head is no longer decayed or strange. But it is moving.

It’s mouth opens and closes in ways a mouth should never move. Unhinged and grotesque is flaps open and closed as more wet, black matter splatters from its mouth. It then starts to pull from the wall. I stare in horror as its neck extends out, growing from the wooden plaque. The neck grows and rips, vertebrae and spine become visible.

I scream and try to run for the door again, but it’s gone. I claw at the wall, banging on it, but there is nothing. I look ahead seeing the deer coming closer and closer. The neck continues to grow from the wall. The jaws snap and smack wetly as black matter splashes all around.

I scream, and then there’s a blast. The head is blown apart, and I am splattered with black, cold goo. A man steps out, tall and thick, well, he would be if he had a midsection. His flannel hangs open, dangling from his chest to the cavity of his stomach where I see spine and viscera. 

“Be quiet,” he snarls as he cocks his gun.

“Please, no,” I turn around, and the wall that had been behind me is gone. The hallway continues. I don’t question it, I just sprint off and run.

I hear the heavy footsteps behind me as I race forward. I see a door, and I feel like I’ve found my way out. I keep running and running, but the doorway never gets any closer.

I stop running as I gasp for breath, my body aches and my mind is a racing blur. I wrap my arms around myself and sob.

“Oh my god,” I whimper. “Oh God, please-”

“Don’t beg,” a quiet snarl whispers into my ear.

I turn, seeing the outline of a man in the shadows. He clutches the ax in his hands, and as he steps out, I realize part of his head is missing as if he was shot in the head. The same moist, black gunk that came from the deer’s mouth is dripping from his hollow eye socket.

“Shh,” he places his finger to his lips.

I run, darting down the long hallway that doesn’t seem to end. I then suddenly hit the wall and bounce off it onto the ground. On my back, I look up at the ceiling and see something dripping down from the ceiling. It looks like rotting wood, but it stretches and grows and drops down the side of the wall like a loose panel. A hand reaches out, tearing away and revealing a skeletal claw. I’m shaking and unable to move.

Suddenly, I hear boots stomping into earshot, and an ax chops down beside my head, and I scream. I’m able to jump to my feet and run through a doorway. I gasp and pant, finding myself in a pitch black room. I shudder and try to hold my breath, but my panicked gasps won’t stop. 

There is a blast from a gun, the sound, and sight of the glowing blast terrifies me into a horrid scream which is only muted by another gunshot. I press my back to the wall, hearing the footsteps drawing nearer.

These brothers were hunters, I remember from the story. They came to the cabin every year to hunt. I understand now that they never stopped. They’re still hunting, and this time, it’s me.

I place my palm on the wall, and I feel my way along it. I hold my breath, hoping whichever brother is in the darkness can’t see me. I can hear his heavy footsteps, and sometimes they sound right beside me or far away from me.

My hand slips into the open air, and I duck inside. I find the door and close it. The room is painfully cold, and my breath comes out in white puffs. A light starts to come on. Like clouds parting from the moon, it floods the room. I look down, seeing I’m standing in the snow. Looking up, I gaze at a massive full moon hanging low in the sky. Snow falls from the sky, and I find myself standing in a field.

“What?” I shudder. “How did I-” I turn back to the door. The wall extends forever and ever on both sides. Am I still in the house? Is this even real?

The silence around me makes my ears ring. As beautiful as such a scene would be in normal circumstances, I feel suffocated. The ring makes my ears, and head feels heavy. I cup my hands around them to make it stop, but the suffocating heaviness persists. 

I take a step forward, wondering if I should go for the trees at the edge of the field, or if I should turn back and go the way I came. Back into the dark room with the brother with a shotgun. Maybe it is better to face the terror I can expect rather than blindly go into something I don’t.

I look up again at the tree line, and there is something out there. It stands between the trees, so still and unmoving. I would believe it was just nothing. After a few moments, I recognize them as my friend. I laugh with relief and start to rush forward. 

I’m grabbed, a thick hand wraps around my mouth, and I struggle to try to rip away from it. My friend looks terrified and stands there, still unmoving.

I fight against the hands holding me and dragging me back to the door. I bite and free my face from their grasp.

“Help me!” I scream loudly.

My friend suddenly lurches forward, and their jaws open wide, unhinging as thick white fog billows from between their lips. And they scream. But it’s not a human scream.

My heart is pounding in my throat, and I swallow, trying to push it back down. The hands holding me continue to try and force me back. The thing I thought was my friend lunges out, their body snaps and contorts, their flesh rips away revealing shimmering white bone and dark, black flesh.

I scream, and the hands finally take hold. They rip me back towards the door.

The creature falls on all fours. It’s massive head jutting from the trees. It has brambles and wires jutting from the top of its head. Old bullets shake loose from it jowls, and the black liquid dribbles down. It gnashes its massive teeth slowly opening its mouth. A white, steamy cloud breathes out.

I’m dropped on the doorstep, and the hands have vanished. I scramble to get my footing and grab the doorknob. I shake it and jerk and try to open it.

The creature rushes forward, screaming and hissing. 

I scream and finally wrench open the door. I throw myself inside and slam the door shut with all the force I’ve got. The door shudders as the creature hits it. Its screams made the doorknob vibrate.

I scramble, trying to get away and run. I can hear the creature screaming and clawing at the door which is locked in place by an ax. I watch the door vibrate and splinter. One of the long crooked arms of the creature reaches through, lashing this way and that way like an angry cobra. It grabs the ax holding the door in place. The bony fingers slice open along the blade and rotted black marrow drip out.

I run, trying to get away. I can hear the creature hissing and snarling behind me. The clatter of its bony limbs hitting the ground echo in my ears. I see a door and duck inside, closing it and hiding myself. It’s a small room, probably a closet. I duck down inside, holding my knees to my chest.

I then see a bright beam of a light coming from the keyhole. I inch over, peeking out the keyhole. I see the room I had started in, only it isn’t the same. Everything is new and fine. The deer head is above the mantle, the chairs are standing. There is no rot, no vines, no moss.

I then see the strange creature come inching into the room. It’s head jerks and vibrates, and I duck back down, not wanting to see it’s contorted and awful movements. I take a breath and peer back out, seeing one of the brothers where the thing was. He’s holding the ax in his hand.

“Oh, there you are,” the other brother comes up from the stairwell I had fallen down. “I couldn’t find it. I know it’s still in the house though.” He’s holding his shotgun but he sets it down to prop is up by the door. “You didn’t see it either, did you?” He takes a cautious step over. “Did you Bob?”

The one who is supposed to Bob shakes his head and takes a few steps closer to his brother.

“We’ll find it,” Bill murmurs. “Whatever the fuck it is.” He shakes his head and goes over the window. “I just want this thing gone.” He looks out the window and hangs his head. “I just want it over with.” Bill hangs his head into his hands.

“All the doors are sealed. All the windows too. There’s no way out anymore,” he whispers. “There’s no way out.” He then groans. “But there was this room...I’d never seen it before, Bob.” His voice is strained and terrified. “And that’s not the first time I’ve seen it.”

Bill turns, looking out the window. “It’s like the cabin is...growing. I can’t explain it but-” his voice cracks. He stares at the glass as if seeing something.

‘Bob’ raises his ax. Bill turns around and screams as the ax is brought down on him.

I gasp and cower down again, covering my head as I hear a gunshot go off. I sniffle and raise my head back up, peering into the room.

It’s dark and cold, just like when I entered, the fire is snuffed out, and thick smoke fills the room. One of the chairs collapses and decays into the floor. Bill and Bob are merely skeletons on the ground. Rats crawl in and out of them, dragging the dark, black wetness with them.

I step out of the closet, looking around the room. The brothers weren’t the monsters here. In fact, I think they had been trying to warn me all this time. They had fallen victim to this creature, and they were trying to spare me the same fate. 

“I’m sorry,” I whisper as I stand over the skeletons there. “I should have listened.”

I hear a scraping, gnashing sound and I jump away, walking around the room I find the door that I had fallen down before. I stare down below seeing something at the bottom of stairs. I don’t linger too long, I quickly run away from it and find my way down another long hall.

I keep walking and walking, ignoring any doors I see. I just keep heading down this one long hallway. I then see a window ahead of me. Outside there are blue and red lights flashing. 

“Oh thank god,” I whisper and start racing forward. 

Ahead of me, a door opens. It swings open slow and then sort of hangs there. It goes quiet again, and my ears start to ring. The heaviness returns and I clamp my hands over my ears. I close my eyes and duck my head down.

When I look back up the Rikity Tig is all the way at the end of the hallway, standing right in front of the window I need to get to. The blue and red lights flash through is protruding rib rage. It is still and unmoving, staring down at me with his skeletal head. 

Can it see me? I wonder. Is that why the brothers told me to be quiet?

The Rikity Tig tilts its head up, its jaws opening as thick, white steam leaves its mouth. The steam starts to fill the hallway, flooding it and blinding me to everything around. I had to stay. Still, I couldn’t move, and I couldn’t make a sound.

I stayed still, even as I heard the Rikity Tig clattering along the walls at ceiling. The black wetness splashed onto my face and through my hair. The silence was deafening and painful. The weight of it made my neck feel like it was about to snap. 

Ahead of me, I could see the light coming from the window. The red and blue lights are still there. I could hear the Rikity Tig behind me, so I started to take a few steps forward. I wait, holding my breath, and I take another step forward.

I hear the hiss of breath, and something cold and wet slithers down the back of my neck.

No, no, no, I’m so close. No. 

I sprint towards the window. Behind me, the Rikity Tig screams, and it starts racing towards me. I run through the fog, stretching my arms out to touch the window. I want to feel the cold glass against my skin, I want to see the world beyond this horrible cabin.

I can feel the chill at the tip of my fingers and then I was ripped back. Something grabs the back of my sweater, and I am whipped through the fog. I come face to face with the Rikity Tig’s jowls, and I scream.

I fall, and I hit the cold concrete. I lay there on the ground, slowly picking myself up off the floor. I look up, seeing the top of the stairs as the door closes. I jump up, scrambling to my feet I bang on the door. I throw myself against it, I kick it, I hit it.

I scream in frustration and sit there at the top of the stairs. I start to cry. I sob bitterly, weeping into my palms.

As I look at my hands, I see the wet, black gunk puddled in my palms. I touch my cheeks, feel the wetness from my tears. I look back at my hands, seeing more the blackness smeared on my fingertips.

“No,” I shudder. “Oh god, no.” I stand up, looking at the door, and then I glance down the stairs. There’s something still down there, some strange, misshapen blob at the foot of the stairs in the shadows.

I swallow the lump in my throat down. I slowly descend the stairs, holding my breath as I do. I clench my fists as the silence starts to deafen me again. The heavy, dull ringing that fills my ears is like a horrible scream that won’t end.

I stand there on the stairs, looking down at the shape I see there. The legs are crooked and tucked under, the arms are broken and bent backwards. The head is twisted, and the neck is bleeding from a puncture. I close my eyes and touch the back of my neck. I feel something sharp there, and I wrench my hand away.

I step off the stairs and move over the dead body. Looking over my shoulder, I see myself there on the ground. I was never going to find my way out. That’s what the Bull had said before, all the doors were sealed.

“Be quiet,” Bill says and I look up at him and Bob.

Bon holds his hand out to me. “I’m real sorry kid.”

I sniffle and take his hand. It’s warm and thick, and I take some comfort as he squeezes his fingers around mine. 

I see blue and red flashing lights, and a new window has appeared. Bob takes me over to it, and outside I see my friends. My one friend is crying and inconsolable. Her brother is screaming and angry, saying this place should be burnt to the ground.

“I’m-” I stop as Bill squeezes my shoulder.

“That’s what the Rikity Tig wants,” he whispers. “Don’t call out to them.”

I place my one hand on the glass as my tears roll black down my cheeks. Bob squeezes my hand again and pulls me away from the window. I watch as the lights fade and the voices vanish into the distance. Thick white fog starts to roll in, and I walk away with the brothers, staying close to their sides.