Faith on the Fringe - A Wilderness of Words

  Ben stared motionless at the man kneeling before him. Finally, he holstered his pistol and pulled an extra set of clothes from his backpack while keeping one eye on this man-beast. He was older, rough, and weathered with a thick red beard. He glanced at Ben, “Thank you.” There was an awkward silence as Ben searched for the words. He couldn’t process the town that appeared in the middle of nowhere, or the fact that there was a WEREWOLF being escorted through this town, not to mention the pack of werewolves he had been attacked by last night. Now this – this man in front of him. It was too much.   It – he spoke, “We should get out of here if we don’t want to find ourselves on the menu again.” Ben leered at him, then plopped down on a rock. “We?” He replied. “We aren’t going anywhere. You’re not even human. Why did – why… sigh.”   The man shook his head. “Okay, we’re gonna talk first. My name is Thomas Brown. What’s yours?” Looking off into the woods, he ...

 The beast’s yellow eyes blazed. It roared, thunderous and primal. The crowd braced, holding their ears as the nauseating sound overtook them. Two strongmen were flung through the air as they tried, unsuccessfully, to control the animal. Others jabbed it with their sharp spears, shotguns blasted at it, but to no avail. As the creature overcame its captors, Ben saw his chance to escape. Jumping from the ground, he bolted away from the parade, racing toward his truck, sprinting for his very life. His fumbling fingers jammed the key into the ignition, and the engine roared to life. Knobby tires dug into the gravel as he peeled out onto the road he drove in on. He kept one eye on the rearview mirror, checking for any sign of a pursuer, man or beast. Remembering the canyon ahead, he began to scan for a spot where he could dump the truck and still keep it hidden— no way I’m getting trapped in that canyon. He drove on, studying the dense foliage for any sign of an entry. There—a g...

  Ben Holland gripped the wheel of his old pickup, the engine’s rumble the only sound cutting through the stillness of the countryside.  Sunrise painted the sky in cotton-candy swirls of pink and purple, and the coffee was still steaming. There were lots of nice homes dotting the landscape, as well as abandoned homes and buildings that were beyond repair. Nevertheless, it was a much more peaceful setting than Fairchannel, where he had moved from. That place was a concrete jungle. It wasn’t a typical inner city; it was a post-war zone. Swiss cheese, skyrises, and bomb-pitted streets were the norm, despite its name. The government had not begun reconstruction as it had in the cities to the west, such as Cira. He took another swig of coffee. The heat spread through his chest and settled low in his stomach, a familiar burn that chased away the morning chill. I suppose I oughta call Em. He pressed the button on the steering wheel, “call Emma.” It was definitely old tech. There were...

  Long, drawn-out howls echoed through the deep forest, ricocheting off trees. Fear flooded his senses as the sound—like an air raid siren, a primal warning—reverberated to his core. Run. It was all he could think of, all he could do. “Aah,” he held his hand over the stinging pain in his side, then felt the handle of the blade sticking out. He looked at his shaking hand, dripping in bright red blood… “Ben, wake up. You're dreaming.”   He rolled his head over and gazed at Emma, his beautiful wife. Exhaling, he crunched up his face as another sharp pain shot through his abdomen. She caressed his hand, "You need to try not to tense up, baby. “I know, I know. It’s just… like I was still there,” he replied. “If you need to talk about things, you can talk to me, or you know, the department provides a therapist.” Ben rolled his eyes at the word ‘therapist’ and took his hand back. “There’s something out there, Em and the kids, they’re still going missing. That old man took maybe one o...

  I gazed at my reflection in the mirror and saw a bulging muffin-top belly. I had spent the entire summer hiking and eating healthily, yet it still stubbornly persisted. Our most recent hike through the Allegan State Game Area spanned a challenging 14 miles, and it left my son Gabe and me feeling confident that we were ready to take on the moderately difficult Pictured Rocks section of the North Country National Scenic Trail. We rose before sunrise and broke camp in the pitch-dark morning of the Upper Peninsula. The Alger County Transit shuttle was waiting for us in Munising. It took us to the beginning of the trail at the east end. The driver kindly went a little further to drop us off at Sable Falls. Starting toward the falls, we had a pep in our steps and a song in our hearts. The foliage was wet with morning dew, but we welcomed the feeling; we were in the wilderness, and it would be amazing.  Upon arriving at the visitors center, we were already wiping the sweat from our...

Burning pain pierced my shoulder and neck. I fought and pried but couldn’t contend with the iron grip. The darkness of the forest engulfed my senses, trapping me like prey in a hunter's snare.   In a dreamless nightmare encircled with fear, I lay cold and alone. Finally, the abyss of darkness began to fragment as bright sunlight roused me from the forced slumber.  Warmth , I immediately thought but exhaled a frosty breath. I surveyed my faint surroundings and examined myself as much as possible. Dried blood matted my hair and kept my right eye from opening. My clothes had been removed but by some miracle this boma shelter I was in prevented me from becoming completely hypothermic.    Small vines were laced intricately around my wrists and ankles, holding me captive. I tugged with cold, stiff hands against them but they would not yield. Praying for strength I jerked the hardened cords once more when I heard…something. Suddenly, there was movement in the shadows behind...

  Wet snow splattered against my warm skin as I pressed on down the trail. I squinted my eyes against the ensuing storm; it felt good. My forward march was painstaking, and my dampening clothes were not a good thing in such frigid temperatures. “I should take a break,” I mumbled aloud. I pulled out my thermos to take a swig, but it turned up empty, and that’s when I smelled it, the sour stink of a rotten corpse. I scanned the ground ahead of me for tracks but found none. I thought twice about entering the scrub bushes that skirted the deeper forest, but soon resigned my hesitation and dove in, disappearing into the growth. I covered my mouth and pursed my lips, trying hard, as I saw the decaying body, to hold down my lunch. She was so young, robbed of her life and dignity. Her dress was torn and bloodied. A stuffed bear hung from a crook in a small nearby tree - a boy’s toy. I remembered the files. The trends over the last two years were those of missing persons, but the majority w...