Wisp
NOTE: I’ve always been fascinated by the Will ‘o the Wisp. I never found it terrifying until I got older, and appreciated the more subtle horrors of having your time wasted. When I was younger, I tried to make it more visceral a horror, one with blended realities, timelines, and lost ways. Please excuse the youthful edginess and casual misogyny. I wanted to show the men devolving/degrading, and chose a clumsy method to do it.
CW: Visceral descriptions of violence, misogynistic language and descriptions.
“You’re a cold-blooded bastard, you are,” Ronald tossed a thick sleeping-roll to Danial, grinning a sinister grin. “This must be twenty miles from town.”
“Or thirty at least,” Kenny sighed, lowering his body onto a large rock. “Seriously, Danial, why are we doing this? And don’t give us any of that macho ‘guy’s trip’ garbage, we could have gone to Vegas.”
“Hell, even L.A.” Ethan muttered darkly as he dropped his backpack to the ground. He had been quiet for most of the trip, opting to hike in silence through the dark forest. Danial opened his arms wide.
“Come on now, this is an adventure! I don’t want to spend all my time with you guys just getting drunk, gambling away my money, and masturbating myself to sleep in Vegas.”
“We’re not doing that?” Kenny looked distraught. Ronald threw himself onto the ground next to him, slinging his backpack aside.
“No, we will, but caveman Danial here wants mosquitoes around too. It’s a West Coast thing.” he rummaged around in his pockets until he managed to fish his phone out into the open. He tapped it a few times, and then theatrically shook it next to his ear. “There. No bars. Happy?”
“I’ve seen horror movies that start this way,” Ethan shook his head, pulling his own sleeping roll out of his bag. “How long do we need to stay here before you’ve recharged?”
Danial sighed, clearing a space to start a fire. He was used to it, now. After a full day of travel, his friends were more than willing to point out the relative absurdity of his plan. All four of them in the woods, alone? What was the point? They hadn’t bought his ‘communing with nature’ ploy, so he had whipped together an unhappy month at work, and a need to reconnect with his friends and recharge. It wasn’t too much of a stretch. Kenny began searching for twigs as Ronald helped build a rock circle to hold the flame.
“Only a day or two, that’s all I ask,” Danial said, looking up at Ethan’s dour face. “Then I’ll take you all back to Donnigan’s and buy you a round. The home brew too, not that 312 shit.”
“Heh, keep that sour lip trembling, Ethan, we might be able to get him to buy us strippers,” Ronald sniggered, slapping Danial on the back. “Don’t mind him, Danny. We’re with you on this. It’ll be fun! Letting our hair grow, beating up smaller mammals for fun, wrestling bears for honey…”
“I’d be satisfied with a fire,” Kenny tossed his pile of sticks into the stone circle. “It looks like rain.”
“It’s looked like it’s going to rain for two days,” Danial shook his head. “The forecast said clear weather for the next week, practically. Don’t worry. You’ll be nice and toasty warm in a matter of minutes.”
Kenny snorted a ‘we’ll see’ snort, and walked off to look for larger branches. Ronald shook his head.
“Don’t worry about it — I think this’ll be fun,” he kicked a stone into place. Danial shrugged, fitting his own into the dirt.
“I just wanted you guys along, is all. I know it’s not your thing, but I’m glad you’re here.”
“I’m getting a round out of it — I’ll stick it out.” Ethan smiled ruefully. “I’ll talk about sports and girls and scratch myself and everything.”
“You do realize we’re going to talk about football, baseball, and hockey and shit, right? You’re the only one here who thinks golf is a sport.”
Ethan stared at Ronald for a few moments, and then turned to Danial. “I’m done. When can I go home?”
Danial spun his fork in his fingers, toying aimlessly with his food. Affecting a practiced calm, he glanced up and stared yet again down the street. Kenny was later than usual. It was a small café, fairly close to Kenny’s apartment. It shouldn’t take him more than fifteen minutes to walk to, even in his old-age. Unless, of course, something had happened. He tried not to think about it as his hand rubbed itself against the napkin in his lap. He’d have to remember to schedule their weekly luncheon earlier in the day… or perhaps show up later.
He looked down again at his meal. A cold tuna-fish sandwich with a pasta salad. For some reason it looked less appetizing in person than it had in his mind. The limp whitish-pink patty of fish was slowly peeling itself off, threatening to drop onto the plate if not caught. Danial carefully nudged the glob of tuna back into the sandwich, thwarting its escape. Dropping the fork in exasperation, he twisted himself around in his seat to see if he could see Kenny approaching.
Nothing.
The swirling bustle of movement that passed for life in the city surged around the small cafe, hundreds of men and women going about their daily business, minding their lives. Danial scratched at the back of his neck, and forced a fork of pasta salad down his throat, barely tasting it. He quickly grabbed a drink of water, just as Kenny was lowering himself to the chair in front of him.
“Sorry I’m late,” he muttered, not meeting Danial’s gaze. Danial nodded, gesturing at the plate of food in front of him with his fork.
“Already started without you,” he said, licking sauce out of his moustache. Kenny nodded.
“Not blind yet,” he retorted. His tone was cool, but not reproachful. Danial shifted uneasily in his chair.
“How have you been?” he asked, taking another bite of food. Kenny shrugged, putting on a pair of reading glasses and reaching for the menu.
“Old,” he sighed, sucking on a tooth. “Too old for my age. Tired. Haven’t been sleeping well. How about you?”
“Can’t complain,” Danial shrugged carefully. “I know what you mean about too old. My god, I feel like I’m ninety-five. What did I do in forty years to wear myself out that much?”
Kenny didn’t answer. He just looked at Danial, oddly, like he had never met Danial before, and was seeing him for the first time. After a moment, he sniffed and returned his gaze to the menu. Life continued to swirl about them like water flowing down a sink drain.
“All I’m saying is a sport isn’t something you can play alone. Solitare isn’t a sport, is it? They don’t have competitions to see who can win the fastest, do they?” Kenny took a swig from his beer.
“They do for rubix cubes. Crosswords too. You name it, it can be made a sport,” Danial stretched in the chill night air. The fire was burning high, warming his front, but leaving his back cold.
“And it’s not like golf doesn’t have competitions,” Ethan pointed out, his legs tucked up to his chest. He was leaning against the same stone Kenny had been sitting on earlier, a small distance from the fire. He didn’t seem to mind the chill. Ronald scoffed.
“Those aren’t competitions, they’re showcases. They wouldn’t play any differently if there was one player or twenty-nine. A real sport has conflict. Aggression. If we’re playing a game, I need to be able to affect your play, just like you need to be able to affect mine. Golf, you’re just getting a low score. You can do that any time, anywhere, and it doesn’t make a difference.”
“So what, you think there should be two holes, and each golfer is trying to sink the ball in their own?” Danial grinned at the idea. Ethan snorted.
“It’d be a sport, then,” Ronald shrugged. Kenny nodded his agreement. “It’d never work, of course, but that’s why it’s a stupid game, in addition to not being a sport.”
“Okay,” Ethan cast his eyes around the site, pawing through the dirt. “Where’s a stick. Or a rock. Something to kill you with. Slowly too, fucker. It’s gutting time for you.”
Danial laughed, nudging Ethan sharply with his foot, causing them both to unbalance and roll over in the dust. They all joined in the laughter, tossing dirt clods at each other, before returning to their beers.
“Why is the conflict so important, then?” Ethan said, once he was upright again. Kenny groaned.
“Oh let it alone,” he took another swig. “Lets not go philosopher — not now. I’m too drunk to think about stupid things.”
“No, I’m serious,” Ethan suppressed a giggle. “Why is the competition necessary for a game to be elevated to a sport?”
“You know you use longer words when you’re drunk?” Ronald whispered loudly, so everyone could hear. Danial interjected while Ethan dissolved into a giggling fit.
“I think it’s genetics. Something about survival of the fittest, and self improvement. I don’t know, though, I’m kinda buzzed.”
“Now you,” Ronald pointed a finger in Danial’s general direction across the fire. “You get all quiet and start philsoph… philph… ahem… philosophizing. You’re a quiet drunk.”
“And you start shitting,” Kenny kicked a stick at Ronald, sniggering. “Shit flies out of your mouth, all over the place, and we can’t stop you from shitting on our conversations.” Ronald gasped, covering his ears with his hands.
“My ears! You foul-mouthed fucker! Now I’m going to grow up to become a delinquent. Thanks so very much.”
“You ain’t never growing up, bastard,” Danial grinned, tossing his empty beer bottle aside into the grass.
“Do you guys hear that?” Ethan muttered, quietly. Ronald giggled.
“I hear that! I hear lots of that! Which that in particular?” he upended the beer bottle over his open mouth, while reaching for another with his other hand. Ethan waved his hands.
“No, shush!”
They all fell silent. The stars shone dimly, hidden by the tall trees and the brightness of the flame. The smoke, camouflaged in the darkness, made the tiny lights skitter and jump in their eyes, like candles. Far off in the distance, a wolf howl reached their ears.
“Just a wolf,” Kenny shrugged, wiping his forehead. Ethan shook his head.
“No, it wan’t that… it was… like bells or something.”
“Bells?” Ronald grinned drunkenly as he opened his fourth bottle. “Did you get your wings?”
“I’m serious…” Ethan wasn’t smiling. “Can’t you feel it?”
Danial looked out from the circle of light, peering deeply into the flickering shadows of the forest. The night had fallen softly, settling over the trees like a fog, thick and cold. The dim light of the fire did not seem so warm as it had before, and instead seemed only to contrast the hidden twisting shadows of the trees, meshing together like a net, just beyond his vision.
“Ghost stories,” Ronald sniggered to himself, swallowing another gulp.
The meal passed in relative silence. Kenny ordered a small salad, and poked at it dispassionately, periodically dripping more and more vinaigrette over it, until all of the the leaves were brown and wet. The waiter came and refilled their water, dutifully asking if everything was okay, or if he could get anything else for them. Time and again, Danial would wave him away, his mouth inevitably full of a forcefully choked down bite of tuna or salad.
He used to love tuna.
After almost half an hour, they tried talking to each other. Danial politely asked about Kenny’s family and work, while Kenny returned the favor. It turned out that neither of them had kept in touch with their families much, and their work had been little better than something to pass the time with. They ended up talking about sports they hadn’t played in years, movies they hadn’t seen, and eventually, when they had almost run out of possibilities, the weather.
After almost an hour, Danial ordered a bottle of wine, hoping it would get better.
Finally, halfway through the bottle, Kenny looked up from his plate at Danial.
“Do you think about it much?”
“Who, Ronald?” Danial asked, his heart slowly sinking through his torso to his stomach. Kenny shrugged.
“Any of it, really.”
“I think about death,” Danial sighed quietly. “I keep waiting for it. Sometimes I feel like I really want it… Like it would be a vac… a release.”
“It wasn’t for Ronald,” Kenny muttered darkly. Danial leaned back quickly in his chair.
“Would you like some more wine?” he asked, louder than he should have. Kenny winced slightly in shame.
“I didn’t mean…”
“Come on, drink up.” Danial poured more wine into Kenny’s almost full glass, slopping some on the table. Kenny stared at the red stain, slowly spreading over the white table-cloth, before nodding silently and slowly picked up the glass.
“It was quick,” he said, finally, setting the glass down again. Danial looked out over the bustling city. Thousands of people all moving, between trees of brick and steel and glass. Breathing the gasoline tainted air, and drinking the fluoride-flavored water. He shuddered, and reached for his own glass.
“It wasn’t quick at all,” he said, drinking deeply. “It took thirty-eight years.”
“It was this way, I know it. The fallen log right here, remember? We passed it on the way up,” Ethan adjusted his pack on his back, swatting at his neck. “The car has to be just a few more yards down.”
“I can’t say as I remember it…” Ronald spat, his panting breath sounding rough and ragged in Danial’s ears. “But if it gets me out of this god-damn vacation any faster, I’ll believe you.”
“We’re not lost,” Kenny muttered, wiping his forehead. “We’ve been going straight down the path. We came straight up, we go straight down. I’m sure I saw lights from the highway a little while ago. It’s not complicated.”
“I don’t suppose the car was stolen?” Daniel suggested, and immediately wished he hadn’t. The others looked at him, coldly.
“Not funny, man.”
“I’ve still got no bars…”
“This whole thing was your idea, you know. If you want to be useful, help us get out of here.”
“How?” Danial opened his arms, encompassing the dark and twisted trees around them. “I’ve got a compass that tells us what we already know — we’re headed south. South is down, and south is towards the car. We haven’t turned, we haven’t strayed, we’re heading in the right direction. All we can do now is keep going until we find the car.”
“Than just keep quiet until we get there, and you’re buying us two fucking rounds after this.”
“Three,” interjected Ronald, holding his phone above his head and staring at it.
“Fine, three,” Ethan swatted his arm. “But until then, don’t remind us that you’re the reason we’re out here.”
“Nothing. No signal at all…” Ronald hissed. Kenny swatted him upside the head.
“God damn it, Ronald,” he barked. “Give it up with the fucking phone! That bitch of yours isn’t getting her check-in! Just live without your leash for one God-Damn hour!”
It was only a moment — barely two seconds — but to Danial it felt like an hour. Ronald slowly lowered the phone to his side, and set his jaw like a stone, jutting out in front of his tight lips. His eyes blazed with barely suppressed fury that was met by Kenny’s.
“Too far,” Ethan interrupted, quickly. “That was too far, man. Cool it.”
“No, keep on talking, asshole,” Ronald stepped forward. “We all want to hear about my girl — fucking talk!”
“No, we don’t!” Danial stepped in between the two of them. “We’re done! We’ll keep walking until we get to the car, and we’re going home!”
The forest grew still. A small breeze ruffled the dying leaves on the dusty floor as Kenny, with a look, slowly turned away and continued to walk down the path.
“I don’t mean to alarm anyone…” Ethan said, slapping his chest. “but it’s been several hours, right?”
“And?” Ronald fumed, starting to stomp after Kenny. Ethan rubbed his chest where he had hit himself.
“Well… just, I was hungry before we left — I remember we decided to leave so we would get to town in time for dinner, and… I’m not hungry any more. Is anyone hungry?”
The rustle in the brush stopped as Kenny turned around and stared at the three of them. No one spoke, they just looked at each other, searching each other’s faces and looking for some glimmer of an explanation. Some casual excuse they had all forgotten. Danial was about to explain the physiological impact of stress on the appetite, but the words rang hollow in his head, and his mouth ran dry before he could speak. Gradually, Danial became aware of other things — the things that the corner of his eye had seen quite clearly. The absence of birdsong, the way the forest seemed to fade into a faint mist closer than it should have, the absence of footprints in the dirt — both in front and behind them.
Kenny slowly began to turn to the fallen tree by the path.
“It’s the same log,” he said quietly, “I swear to god, we’ve been walking straight south for seven hours, and we’re back at the same goddamn log!”
“It hasn’t been seven hours!” Danial rubbed his head frantically. They would have to reach the stream soon, he was… he would get thirsty soon. “It’s been three at most.”
“It took us half an hour to get to the site from the car!” Kenny shouted, kicking the log. Ronald began paced in a circle, cursing rapidly as he stared at his phone. Ethan was scratching the back of his neck rhythmically.
“Look, we just need to keep moving, and we’ll get out of this,” Ethan said, faintly. His monotone betrayed his lack of confidence.
“I’m out of battery…” Ronald muttered, then resuming his cursing.
“We’ve been going south, we’ve been going down,” Danial tried to think. “As long as we keep going south and down, we’ll get somewhere.”
“Where?” Ronald broke his circle. “Where are we even going anymore?”
“Somewhere!” Kenny shouted, kicking the log again. “Anywhere!”
“Look!” Ethan shouted. Danial spun with Kenny and Ronald to see Ethan pointing behind them. Then he broke into a run, shoving past the three of them, and running off into the forest. Cursing madly, the three of them chased after him, calling his name. Tree branches scraped at their faces, and roots and stones tripped them up, crushing their toes and knees. Ethan ignored their cries, and ran onward, shouting wildly into the wind, while dark clouds swirled overhead.
“Do you still think about it?” Kenny’s voice was dry and cracked. Danial looked into his friends eyes briefly before turning away. He could not bear the haunted, tortured look his friend wore. Danial sat in silence for what seemed like hours, before he gave a short nod, hoping that would be enough, and Kenny would look away. He didn’t.
“I dream, sometimes,” Kenny leaned forward slightly, his white hair forming an unearthly halo. He had been rubbing his head, upsetting his thin spider-silk hair, and now the strands floated on the wind, like cobwebs clutching his scalp. He wiped a gummy eye, and leaned forward still further. “I dream, and when I wake up I think I can see the tree branches overhead. I hear Ethan and… and Ronald shouting and yelling at each other…” Danial hugged himself. The air was colder now, the sun was setting.
“Sometimes I wonder,” Kenny didn’t seem to be looking at Danial at all, anymore. His eyes were wide and drifting. “I wonder if we ever made it out. Did we get out of that forest? It’s all still so clear, so vivid… Am I dreaming the forest? Or am I dreaming this life? I think…” He paused, taking a deep breath. “I think we’re still there. I think we never left the forest, I think we never found the car, or returned to town, or went to that strip-club — you remember that club? How drunk Ethan got? I don’t think… I don’t think all of us left the woods, not really. You were…”
Kenny stopped. Danial didn’t need him to continue — it was the same thing he told himself day after day, hour after hour. It was his fault. He had asked his friends into the woods. He had begged and pleaded with them, and painted such a wonderful picture of a week away from the world.
Away from the cares of life. No rules of road, no contracts, or deals. No codes, or mail, or communication beyond their own voices. No neon, or unscented, or red dye number 5. Just themselves. Just flesh, and blood, pounding in their ears, flowing through their veins like a waterfall, driving them to hunt, sleep, eat, and mate. The would finally be able to shed the restraints — the cold shackles of civilization — and be human.
He wanted to say he was sorry. He wanted to fall on the ground, weeping, and beg forgiveness. He wanted absolution from the heavy weight on his heart — but there was nothing there. He could not cry, or grieve. He simply held himself, feeling the empty shell of his heart twist inwards, teeth gnashing and searching for something, anything, to sustain itself.
“I hear the howling,” he said, barely a whisper. “I hear it when I’m sitting at home, or walking to work. I try to tell myself it’s just the imaginings of an old man… but then when Ronald…” His throat closed, causing him to choke on his words. He fumbled for his glass while Kenny nodded.
“He just wasted away,” he muttered, as Danial drank the warm tasteless water. “He stopped going to work, stopped showing, stopped eating, sleeping… He didn’t recognize me or anyone, really. He just stopped.”
The bark felt rough and sharp under Danial’s head. The four of them had finally stopped next to a log. Ethan was in the fetal position, clutching his head and sobbing. Kenny was scrabbling in the dirt, casting about for something — he wouldn’t say what. Ronald was gripping the log with both hands, breathing heavily.
“I saw the freeway… the car lights…” Ethan sobbed, rubbing his hand in his hair, back and forth.
“I’m not… I’m not dying like that!” Ronald hissed, reaching out and scratching his fingers open on the sharp bark of the log. “I’m hungry. I want to be hungry. To eat and feast and snack and chew and drool and fuck and feed… not like that…” Kenny spat at something on the ground. Danial opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out.
“Your fucking bitch of a woman is a pile of shit,” Kenny growled, deep in his throat. “She’s a cunt of a bitch, and I’d just as soon kill her as see her again.”
“You fucking bastard!” Ronald pushed off of the log with his legs, his torn and bleeding nails reaching out for Kenny’s eyes. He pulled him to the ground, scratching and biting, while Kenny clubbed and beat at Ronald’s torso, shouting obscenities.
“I’ll fuck her!” he shouted. “I’ll ram into her like a fucking jack-hammer! She’ll scream so goddamn loud for me to stop before begging me for more! She’ll lick the blood off my cock, you fucking shitbag!”
“I’LL NEVER DIE LIKE THAT!” It was deep and primal. Ronald reared back like a snake, and plunged both hands down onto Kenny. There was a sickeningly wet slapping noise, and then Kenny was silent. Danial looked over to see a deep red stain slowly seep through Kenny’s red shirt, and out onto Ronald’s hands. Kenny’s remaining eye had rolled back in his head, while the other lay on the ground by his hand. Skin had been torn from his cheek and ear, hanging like limp cloth from his bone. Ronald was tearing at him, grabbing handfuls of flesh and clothing, ripping with his teeth, and howling.
“The lights!”
Danial turned just in time to see Ethan vanish into the trees. Mutely, he ran after him, leaving the gruesome display behind him. He tried to call out to Ethan, only to hear him call back in a fury about how beautiful the lights were. He ran for hours. He ran until his legs felt ready to drop off, and then he ran some more. His bones were breaking under his muscles, he knew, and soon he would collapse, but he ran on.
Finally, after hours of running, he stopped. The trees towered over him like a canopy. The gray swirling clouds hovered like wraiths over the still and empty night, filling Danial’s eyes and ears. Slowly, he turned around and around, scanning the forest. They would never leave. Or perhaps they had already left. Perhaps he wasn’t himself anymore, and the real Danial had left days ago, to go back home and eat tuna sandwiches and drink wine with his friends. Or perhaps he was the real one, and something else had gone instead. He didn’t know. He didn’t care. He knew he should have been frightened, but he didn’t feel a thing. Not even sad. He simply sat down as a long and rageful howl echoed through the forest, and waited patiently for the lights.
Kenny frantically called to the waiter, to the patrons, to anyone who would listen, to call for an ambulance. Danial sat still in his chair, dead, his fingers clutching at his throat, his face a mask of unimaginable terror.