Hide

A strange intermittent light alternately illuminates and abandons the corridor. The unnatural glow seemed to snuff itself out leaving a ghastly, disheveled darkness. It jumped back to undead life a moment later with a tiny silent blue explosion through the closed window. Light from a flickering TV in his glassy, wide eyes might be what gives him up. He closes them. There is a violent fumbling and a crash as a recycling bin spills out. A cat that shrieked from being stepped on darts past him. The clumsy, hairy giant quickly left the half-checked space and lurched into the next one.

He skulked hurriedly, adrenaline pumping, out the back of the alleyway and into the woods behind the buildings. There was a path but the security lights on the back of the buildings only reached the very edge of the thick wood. The long jagged-edge silhouette of trees against the night sky soon was his only guide as he moved as noiselessly as possible down a wide path.

He was sure he lost them by now. And then he stopped dead in his tracks. Seeming to come up out the earth itself was the low rumbling of air passing through vocal chords and out the open mouth of some very large, angry-sounding creature. He barely had time to think that his life might be over at this very moment when something had him by the shoulders and onto the ground in a split second. And well before one could ponder what to do in the presence of a bright white light, the blinding glare of Waldo’s flashlight coupled with “I gotcha laughter” erased the terror of the last few seconds and replaced it with a sort of relieved and joy-filled rage. Of course it was Waldo. Of course Waldo would do this. There he was. Right there. In the darkness of this infernal wood. The fact that they were on the same team didn’t seem to matter to Waldo. He would’ve done it to whoever passed by. He just stood there, waiting for someone, anyone, to find him. What a weirdo. He left Waldo and pressed on.

Just when he felt like his heart rate and breathing were beginning to return to normal, he became aware of more sounds. The sounds began so gradually he couldn’t remember when they started but there was no mistaking them now, more sounds.

He could suddenly hear the lazy, doleful croaking of a bullfrog. There was also a fast but gentle shushing of the lake swollen from the rain earlier that day, as it spilled over a tiny dam. There was also an unfamiliar sound, something he can’t remember ever hearing. He heard what sounded like some kind of cross between the roar they gave to a pterodactyl in an 80s low-budget children’s show, and a bassoon, cello and tenor sax all rolled into one. It was foreign and fearsome but somehow hauntingly melodious. It was otherworldly and a little far off, so he picked up his pace and ran about an eighth-mile to the waters edge…