It hurt to press the brake pedal.
Before that, he crawled out of the forest, dragging his broken and bloodied leg behind him. Based on how painful breathing was, he was pretty sure he had a couple of broken ribs, too.
Before that, he was gripped by its terrifyingly-shaped, huge claws. He was thrown through the clearing and stopped mid-flight by a mighty oak.
Before that he was face to face with the creature, its disfigured face like a bag of golf balls, its teeth as sharp and as perfectly laid out as a opossum’s, but as big as a lion’s.
Before that, he heard the noise in the distance, something like a growl and a scream and a whimper all at once.
Before that, he was enjoying his night hike through the woods. The sun had set some hours earlier, and now it was just the silence, the surrounding darkness, his flashlight on the trail, and his thoughts.
Now he tried to brake as he approached the hairpin on the fire road headed down the mountain. The pain shot up his leg and through his chest. He swung the wheel and slid through the turn, slamming his foot back down on the gas, and throwing dirt up in a cloud behind his truck.
Now he heard the sound again. More high-pitched this time, more a screech than a scream. Then a shadow across the ground, then a large shape thudding against the hood of his truck.
Photo by Will Swann