Chattering Monkeys

Mechanical Bunny · Site Admin Joined: 19 Apr 2007 Posts: 223

This is what I wrote the other day. I will add to it later when...I get hit with inspiration... I know what's going to happen next, but only vaguely.
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The woods were dark and smelled of damp rot. Night-time smells were blown about by the cold wind as it blew through the pointed branches of the stiff trees. The boy shivered, not just from the chilly air, but from fear. He felt very lost and confused. The forest looked the same no matter where he turned. The trees loomed above him like spindly monsters, backdropped by a bright, full moon. The moon only made the shadows more ominous.

He didn't remember stepping off the path. It hadn't been much of a path in the first place, in this godforsaken corner of the earth. It had been days since he'd had a good meal, and the only water he'd found had been from the almost-frozen river. He didn't know how he'd survive the coming winter. It wasn't even deep into the season and he was already starving. If only he knew how to hunt, or something...

His thoughts were broken by the sound of a twig snapping. He jumped and faced the direction he thought he heard the sound come from. Who knew what monsters were out here at this time of night, a night of the full moon? His heart thumped wildly at the idea inspired by the childish dream-like thinking that was still so very present in his mind in the dark. He stumbled backward and walked in the other direction, hoping beyond hope that whatever it was would leave him alone. He walked on, trying not to panic, trying not to break into a run. Running would only let his fear spiral out of control. He was on the verge of manhood, and he had to learn to control himself.

He realized he'd somehow made it back to the path. There was dirt showing through the wet, moldy leaves in a recognizable pattern, though a very faint, patchy one. He followed it through the forest, not sure if he was going in the right direction or not.

Another twig snapped. He looked behind him, and what he saw made his breath catch in his throat. Just a flash, an image of the largest wolf he'd ever seen, and then he was running. A loud howl came from behind, a howl filled with malicious delight, and he hardly heard the whimpering sound that came from his throat in response. He ran as fast and as hard as he could, but he could hear it behind him, and he knew wolves were faster than he'd ever be.

His fear-filled mind barely registered the shape that loomed into view in front of him. Square. The moon's light was brighter in the clearing around the large object, and he realized that it was a hut. He slammed into the door and struggled with the doorknob.

It was locked.

He choked back a fear-filled cry. He'd bet his life on being able to get inside, and apparently lost. Now he turned around to face his doom. The wolf had slowed down and was padding softly toward him, eying him. He heard himself sob, before pleading with the thing in front of him. “Please—please... Don't eat me, please.” To his amazement, the wolf slowed down even further and sniffed at the air. His breath rattled in his throat when it eyed him some more. Its eyes were a large golden brown, and in some strange way seemed almost...human. Intelligent.

He must be insane to think this, but he couldn't help it: it was almost like a connection sprung between him and the wolf in that very instant. He braced himself against the wood door as the large body came closer, nose twitching. Its ears came forward, alert, on him. A small whine escaped its throat, and suddenly it turned and padded nonchalantly away.

The boy felt like he might faint right there. What had that been all about? He sagged and collapsed, landing with a loud thump right on his butt. He barely felt the pain, only wincing slightly. He couldn't believe it.

“Of all the weird things that have happened to me, that takes the cake...” he muttered to himself as he caught his breath. After the sudden exertion, his tired body was screaming in protest, asking him why he was still awake so late at night without food in his belly. With a groan, he pushed himself to his feet and circled the hut, looking for a sign of life or a way in. It looked abandoned, vines growing over the windows and doorway. One of the vines had broken the shutters, and he pushed hard. The old wood creaked pitifully before the boy forced open the shutters enough for him to fit through. He climbed up, kicking his feet, until he fell in.

His fall stirred the dust in the area of the window, and he coughed. Still, it didn't appear to be as abandoned as he thought. The inside was surprisingly neat and clean, and there were books on a shelf, firewood piled by the fireplace, and when he looked in the cupboards, there was food.

He smashed open a jar of some pickled fruit and stuffed them in his face. He hardly tasted them before they went down. He'd never been so hungry in his life!

Afterwards, he stumbled to the bed and landed on it with a whump. He was too tired to wonder who's place this was, or what they would think of him eating their food and sleeping in their bed. It was too late now; he was cold, still a little hungry, and so very, very tired.

The next thing he knew, there was a loud clacking sound as the door opened. His body moved of its own accord, sitting up and half-standing, half crouching over the side of the bed, ready to run. He stared at the person as they entered.

It was a man, taller than he was, and muscular. That was his first impression. His next impression was that the man was NAKED. Completely buck-naked, and in this weather, too. A blush spread like wildfire over the boy's face and he looked away. Immediately the excuses came flying out of his mouth before the man had even noticed his presence.

“I'M SORRY I DIDN'T KNOW SOMEONE LIVED HERE--”

“Hush,” came the command, strong. The boy shut his mouth so quickly he jarred his teeth together with a CLACK. There was some rustling, and the boy had time to eye the place he was in. He barely remembered climbing into bed; the only thing he could remember clearly was the wolf.

“There was this wolf--”

“HUSH.” The command came swifter and more harshly than before. The boy couldn't help but feel like he was in deep trouble. The man did not seem to be happy with him being here.

Sunlight was speckling the floorboard in the shape of the vines and the shutters. So, it was morning.

A strong hand grabbed his jaw and he was forced to look up, wide-eyed, into the man's face. His blushing only intensified. The man now had on pants, but he was still shirtless. The man had light brown hair and a tan. He smelled like musty earth and fresh air and something tangy, reminding him of sweat, or more like when he'd bit the inside of this mouth and there was blood...

“What is your name?” the man said. The boy met his eyes for the first time and got quite a shock. They were a deep golden-brown. They had the same intelligent look he could recognize from last night. Again, he felt a connection spring between them.

Was he going mad?

“A—Andrew,” he said. The grip on his jaw had relaxed enough for him to speak. Now it was just a gentle touch that kept his eyes trained on the other man's.

“Nice to meet you, Andrew. My name is—Jake.” There was a slight pause before his name. His throat was raspy, so he cleared it.

“I take it you are the one who ate the jar of apples?”

Andrew could only nod dumbly.

The older man eyed him. Andrew suddenly became aware of what he must look like—disheveled, dirty, tired, scrawny. His eyes dropped to the side in shame.

“I see,” was all the man said before moving away.

There was the sound of clinking before Andrew had the strength to look to see what the other person was doing. He was taking food out of the cupboard. Silently he opened it and put some fruit into a bowl and handed it to Andrew. The boy took it without a word and began to eat. He didn't know why this man was having pity on him, but his stomach could care less.

Afterwards, Jake motioned to him and led him outside. Andrew noticed the man still didn't have a shirt on—which, considering the cool temperature, was a little amazing. He didn't know why; he supposed the guy liked the cold.