Beneath Hoof and Hollow (Darkly Depraved Monsters)
Chapter 1
Chapter One
Emeline
“The moment he pulled the wolf skin over his head, he transformed. His body twisted and bent, becoming a terrible monster. All night he tore through the town, claws shredding skin, teeth feasting on flesh. In the morning he awoke in a field full of sheep, covered in blood, guts, and—”
“Stop, please,” Fran interrupts. “Why is it your monster stories are so gory? I cannot fathom why your made-up tales must always have such a torrent of blood and guts.”
Edmund stands from the hay he’s been resting on.
The huge barn has been repurposed and decorated to create a rustic, yet romantic wedding venue.
Hay bales line the walls. Wildflowers bloom in an intricate woven arch above the doors.
Barrels of peach cider sit piled atop one another in the corner. It’s the perfect end-of-summer wedding.
“They are monsters, Fran. Gore will always surround them. Hast thou forgotten what makes a monster a monster? What is it you think monsters do?”
“Monsters aren’t real,” I chime in. “Though, your imagination always keeps us fully entertained.”
Edmund scoffs. “Like fuck. The stories are real. The Wolfman was put to death for his crimes. An entire town believed him to be a wolf, transforming into a literal monster. You’re saying dozens of people hath gone mad?
That our justice system lost its mind when they convicted him of being a werewolf and put him to death? ”
“It’s just hard to believe.” I shrug.
“Maybe you should start believing, Emeline. I hear the Wolfman has a particular fondness for blondes.”
My sigh coincides with a yawn. “I’ll be sure to keep a stick on me for my walk home.”
A wedding in Sleepy Hollow means a guest list that consists of the entire town. There’s not much excitement here. Events like these bring us all together for fun and festivities. They often continue far too late into the evening. It must be near two in the morning already.
“The night is young, Em. Have another mead.” Leed holds out a mug to me.
I decline his offer, giving him a quick peck on the cheek. “You stay. I’ll meet you at home.”
Edmund laughs. “You’re going to walk alone? Keep an eye out for monsters in the tree line. A lone woman is the perfect late-night snack.”
I wave him off, stifling another yawn. “If I see a Wolfman, I’ll call for help.”
“A crack of twigs, a growl in the darkness. Beware,” Edmund taunts. The others share a round of laughter at my expense.
“Goodnight.”
With the entirety of our community currently attending the wedding reception, the town is eerily quiet. I walk, my thoughts growing more irrational by the minute. A fog has rolled in. All surroundings farther than four feet in front of me are hidden within a blanket of ever-moving white.
Edmund’s story sinks deeper into my psyche. I have heard of the trial of the Wolfman. It took place only a few years back. The town really did believe him to be a monster and put him to death for it. But monsters aren’t real.
Even as I tell myself the words, my anxiety grows. It’s so quiet. So much fog. A sharp crack from the woods draws my attention. My home backs up to the last row of houses before the vastness of the forest.
“An animal,” I mumble.
There are many nocturnal creatures. Raccoons, foxes… A shadow shifts in the fog before me. My steps falter. Is someone else out here wandering alone in the dark foggy night?
The swirling blanket of whitish-grey grows even thicker. If any more rolls in, I won’t be able to tell one house from the next.
After standing still for several moments, I push onward. Get home. Get inside. Lock the door. Then wait for Leed to return home.
My pace quickens. Three houses. Two. One more before I reach my—
A scream rips from my lungs when I slam into a tall figure. A hand shoots through the mist, gripping my shoulder.
I struggle, terror shattering my calm composure. The figure steps closer and a familiar face comes into focus.
“Reverend Statton?” I mutter, peering up at the most important man in town as he stares down at me.
“Emeline . Good eve. I didn’t mean to startle you.”
My breathing calms at the sight of his familiar and trusted face. “No, it’s my fault. I allowed myself to be wound up by a scary story.”
He gives me a gentle smile. “Our imagination thrives in the darkness.”
“It does,” I agree.
From somewhere aloft, a whispering disrupts the quiet night. What was that? Looking around, I suppress a shudder. “Would you mind escorting me home, Father ? I live just a few houses down. I think. This fog is so thick.”
In a move that’s oddly uncharacteristic of our Reverend, he hesitates. His posture is tense as he shifts on his feet. “Of course.”
We move through the fog in silence. I was only one house away after all.
I turn from my door when I finally reach it, intending to thank Reverend Statton for his help.
It’s the first time I’ve gotten a proper look at him this evening.
His clothing is stained. Hands dark, fingernails caked with dirt.
A layer of sweat shines across his face and his usually neat brown hair is mussed. He clutches a parcel beneath one arm.
“Are you well, Father?”
“Quite. Goodnight, Emeline. I’ll see you at service.” His hasty retreat leaves me feeling even more curious.
Reverend Statton performed the wedding ceremony.
I don’t remember seeing him at the party that followed.
Where has he been all these hours? He seemed to come from the direction of the woods.
It’s a little late for gardening, and everyone knows not to venture into the forest alone after dark.
What business would he have, and why is he covered in dirt in the middle of the night?
And what was he carrying?
The answers I seek don’t come to me. Perhaps I’ll ask him at church. I shake my head. What has gotten into you, Emeline? It is not my place to question Reverend Statton.
Crawling beneath my covers, I let dreams overtake my thoughts. The slightest sound outside my window has my heart rate spiking.
“Monsters aren’t real,” I remind myself, tucking my covers tightly around me.
Even if they were, they surely wouldn’t choose to carry out their wicked deeds in our small town. Would they?