says.
“A bear,” Dave asks.
Michael stares at the wounds, and says, “It surely wasn’t dogs. It’s too ripped up for that sort of thing.”
They all nod in agreement.
“Well, whatever it is I don’t think I’ve seen bite marks quite like this, except for the other cases. Call me crazy, but some of the bite marks almost look.”
Michael cuts him off, and says, “Something between man and something else. I know.”
“The bear traps in the truck should work,” Dave said. “If you want we can help you bury the cow after we get done laying them.”
“Augustus is coming over later to help, but if you three want to help dig awhile then I’d gladly appreciate it.”
“We can use some of the cow as bait,” Paul pointed out.
“Good idea,” Dave said.
Paul takes out his knife, and starts cutting into the flesh.
He holds it up, and says, “Is this big enough?”
“That’ll do,” Dave says. “Let’s get started.”
As they walk through the woods to lay the traps the woods are dimly lit through the thick foliage. They set traps, and make markers on the trees to show where they are.
Later that night, as Michael rests back in his chair to read by the fire, a loud beastly wail is heard from outside. Michael picks up the phone, and dials.
“Dave, it’s Michael. I think we caught it.”
The group of men arrived at Michael’s, and walked out into the woods holding flashlights and shotguns in the pitch-black forest. They discovered one of the traps to be bloodied, and pried open. They look nervously at each other. Paul points to a blood trail, and what looks like hoof prints that lead one at a time.
Dave places his hand on the trail of blood, and said, “It couldn’t have gone too far.”
They follow the trail into the dark.
Beelzebub comes stumbling through the basement door of Augustus’s house. The bottom of his leg is ripped open with cuts.
“Dad! Help!”
Augustus runs down the steps.
“My God, what have they done to you?”
He assists Beelzebub over to a surgical table.
“Lay down. I’ll get medical supplies.”
The four men follow to see Augustus’s house lit in the distance as they exit from the woods. The blood trail stops at the basement door. Michael stares at the bloodied handle, and swallows hard. Augustus turns around as they barge in. The men stand in shock to see Augustus finishing up dressing Beelzebub’s wound.
“It’s the devil,” Dave said.
Augustus spreads his arms in front of Beelzebub, trying to block him from view.
“Please, don’t shoot. I can explain.”
“Augustus, what is that,” Michael asks.
“He’s a Satanist,” Billy shouts.
“Shoot him,” Billy says.
Dave quickens his gun, and points it at Beelzebub.
“Please wait,” Michael says.
Michael steps in front of Dave, with a hand on the barrel of the gun.
“Wait, let him explain,” Michael repeats.
“There’s nothing to explain,” Dave said. “The man’s a Satanist, and he’s harboring a demon. Now step aside before I place a bullet through you”
“He’s my friend. Please.”
Michael attempts to lower the gun, but Dave moves the gun rapidly to get a better position. Michael still stands in front of him. It breaks into a struggle, and the gun goes off. The locusts hush as Augustus clenches his chest as the blood pours out. He trembles, and collapses.
“Augustus,” Michael yells.
“Dad,” Beelzebub shouts.
Everyone is shocked and wide-eyed to hear him talk.
“It speaks,” Billy said.
Michael looks at Beelzebub, who hobbles to Augustus from the operating table. Beelzebub and Michael catch Augustus as he falls. They lay him down.
“You speak? You’re his son,” Michael says, staring at the two of them.
“Michael, I’m afraid our time is up old friend. I’m sorry I never told you,” Augustus says as he coughs up blood.
“Stay with me,” Michael said.
“Dad, Dad.”
Augustus reaches his hand and places it on his son’s face.
“Beelzebub, my beautiful Beelzebub. I love you my son.”
Beelzebub breaks into tears.
“Dad, don’t go. Dad, dad!”
Dave is shocked by Beelzebub’s compassion, and stares at him fearfully. Augustus lets out a deep breath, and goes limp. Beelzebub holds his father, and lightly shakes him, as if to awaken him as he lets out a wail.
“No,” Beelzebub said.
The others look nervous as he turns to face them.
“You!”
Dave’s face goes pale as he quickens his gun. Beelzebub lunges for him, biting into Dave’s neck ripping it apart as Dave screams, and falls to the floor dead.
Billy quickens his gun, and grazes Beelzebub’s shoulder with a bullet. He quickly kills him in the same way. Paul struggles to get his gun operational, yet has it pointed at Beelzebub. Beelzebub approaches, with a slight hobble, but as soon as Paul is about to fire Beelzebub rips the gun from his hand, and bites into his neck as Paul collapses.
Michael picks up a gun, but only holds it, not pointing it at him. Beelzebub hobbles back towards Augustus, and kneels down to stroke his father’s hair.
“I’m no danger to you,” Beelzebub said.
Michael sets the gun down, looking sympathetic towards him.
“I’m sorry about the cow.”
Michael takes a moment to process what just happened, and kneels beside him.
“He was my closest friend.”
“I know.”
“Where will you go?”
“I don’t know.”
Michael places his hand on Beelzebub shoulder, and says, “You can stay with me.”
Back at Michael’s house, Beelzebub plays a beautifully sad piece of classical music on the piano. Michael leans against the living room doorway, with a glass a scotch in his hand as he listens to the music. He looks at the scotch, takes a sip, and sits down in the chair he sat in the night before. He picks up a book from the side table, and reads as Beelzebub continues.
About the Author
Gabriel Hackney is an American writer from Cincinnati, Ohio. He writes for the genres of science fiction and fantasy, and uses the topics of war, love, and family in his creative works. His main interest is writing books and scripts for these genres. He is currently earning a BFA at Full Sail University in Creative Writing for Entertainment.
In his free time he writes poetry, but his love of writing began with writing music. He began playing the guitar at age eleven, and started writing music at age sixteen. He continues to write lyrics for alternative rock, and plays instruments for his musical works still yet to be published.
Before he became a writer he fell in love with acting at the age of six. At age fifteen he joined John Casablanca, which is where he developed his skills in acting. In 2009 and 2011 he was in two plays for a community theater group named the Fairfield Footlighters, located in Fairfield, Ohio.
How to Contact the Author
If you wish to contact the author please visit this website, or use the contact information provided below.
Contact information:
Address: 4616 Chalet Dr.
Cincinnati Ohio, 45217
Phone: (513) 722. 5616.
Email:
[email protected] Reference
Hackney, G. E., (2014). The devil in the woods. Www.facebook.com. Retrieved September 1, 2014 from htt
ps://www.facebook.com/777359368972013/photos/a.777359678971982.1073741825.777359368972013/777359685638648/?type=1&theater
Neo, P. (2011). Forest 84. Www.public-domain-photos.com. Retrieved August 31, 2014 from https://www.public-domain-photos.com/landscapes/forest/forest-84-1.htm
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