Into This River I Drown by TJ Klune

pressing my back up against the rough bark, hearing the high-pitched whistling sound coming from my mouth. My skin, still damp from the river crossing, feels like it’s crawling with electricity. This can’t be happening , I tell myself. This isn’t happening. I’m dreaming. I’ve fallen asleep at the store and I just need to wake up. I hit the back of my head against the tree. A dull pain. It’s not enough. Wake up . I hit my head again, harder. Wake up . Again, the pain bright. Wake up!
    I’m still in the clearing.
    Then there’s movement, from behind me.
    I follow the angle of the tree toward the ground until I come to the partially exposed roots. I crouch down and peer through the maze of dirt and roots, seeking protection. The shallow crater is visible, and as I watch, the man sits up. Incredibly, the black lines that had been burnt into the ground around him also rise from the ground, as if they’re attached to him. Flecks of scorched earth fall to the ground, like it’s snowing ashes. They look like burnt bones, remains of something that should be glorious instead of ominous. A feeling of dread rolls through me and my teeth begin to chatter. Sure he can hear them even from the distance that separates us, I grab my jaw to hold my mouth still, ignoring the way my hand shakes. My grip bites into my skin and I know I’ll be bruised there tomorrow, but the pain pushes through the fog that had descended ever since I decided to come to mile marker seventy-seven. It’s like a light has pierced through the shadows and covered me completely, to the point that it’s like I’m blazing.
    He grunts as he pushes himself up from the ground, looking massive and terrifying. The burnt black rises with him, cascading down his shoulders, fluttering and twitching. He’s big, far bigger than I first thought. He has at least six inches on me and outweighs me by a good hundred pounds. The vest that had been covering his torso falls to the side, exposing half of his chest. Deep auburn hair covers the skin on his pectorals, and I have a brief moment to wonder what it would feel like to touch him before my heart starts jack-rabbiting as he opens his eyes and looks straight at where I’m hidden.
    Sure he’s seen me, I freeze, still clamping my hand over my mouth. A tiny whimper escapes me and he narrows his eyes. But then he looks away, over his shoulder, at the black suspended behind him. He reaches up with one gigantic hand and touches the left one ( wing , wing, wing ) and cocks his head. Then, an oddity: he rolls his shoulders as if working out a kink and proceeds to shake his whole upper body like a dog shaking off water. Another sound escapes me, a short bark of hysterical laughter that is immediately silenced when the burnt black behind him breaks off and swirls up behind him like it’s caught in a tornado. It spins briefly before exploding outward, then raining down and landing on the forest floor.
    He looks toward me again. And begins to walk up the side of the crater.
    It would probably be a good idea to run , I think to no avail. My feet still won’t move.
    He reaches the top of the crater and stands there scanning the clearing before him. He looks skyward and closes his eyes. His lips move and there’s a low rumbling sound coming from him, but I can’t make out the words. I strain to hear because it suddenly seems important that I know what he is saying, that I should know each of the words pouring out of his mouth. My father’s voice whispers in my ear, telling me to listen , that I just need to listen. I lean forward further and my nose brushes against a paper-thin root strand. It tickles. My nose scrunches up. No. No! You don’t—
    Too late. I sneeze. It sounds as loud as a gunshot.
    I look back up. The clearing is empty.
    Alarms begin ringing in my head. Get the fuck outta here! I scream at myself. Run and don’t look back ! I spin around and stand, looking over my shoulder as I begin to run. One step, two