Something in the Woods Learned Their Voices

A 13-year-old girl living deep in the Appalachian Mountains woke at 4 AM one October morning to a scream that lasted nine seconds. It started high, then dropped—like a woman screaming, then something else trying to copy a woman screaming, getting the pitch wrong on the way down. It was too loud, too wet-sounding to be human. It tore through the dark and cut off, as if someone had hit mute.

Her father heard it too. They listened together. Nothing else.

Thirty minutes later, the seven dogs belonging to neighbors Mary and John across the creek started going off all at once. Not normal barking—snarling, howling, choking on their chains. The panicked sound animals make when they are scared, not warning something off. The girl went to the front door, toothpaste still in her mouth, and saw movement at the tree line. Something tall stepped out from between two trees. It had to duck its head under a branch seven feet up. Its arms hung past where knees should be. When it took a step, its leg bent backwards, or looked like it did. It was not looking at Mary and John's house. It was looking at hers.

Then it ran into the dark.