This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.

The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/dorimarcosta on 2024-10-04 14:23:38+00:00.

I grew up in a small village in the rural part of the municipality of Coari, in the interior of the state of Amazonas. My story takes place in the 1970s, when I was still a teenager. I’ve loved eating fruit since I was a kid; imagine tasting a mango picked right there, directly from the tree. The problem was that it wasn’t just me who liked them—practically everyone in the village did. The best way to ensure I got my precious fruit was to wake up at dawn before the other villagers. And it was on one of those early mornings that everything happened.

The village was still wrapped in the silence of the early morning when I left the house. The air was fresh, and the humidity from the forest seemed to cling to the wooden stilts that supported the houses.

In the distance, the river lazily flowed, reflecting the few stars that still shone in the sky. The sound of the water hitting the banks, the croaking of frogs, and the occasional call of a night bird were the only things breaking the silence.

The village was small, with few elevated wooden houses connected by walkways stretching over the always damp ground. The walls of the houses were simple, made of worn wooden planks, and the roofs were either thatched or old zinc. The smell of smoke still lingered in the air, a reminder of the fires that had burned the night before. I liked that smell. It was comforting.

My father had gone out hunting the night before, and my mother and siblings were still asleep. I took advantage of the quiet to slip out without making a sound, knowing that soon the day would start, and the other teenagers in the village would wake up. I liked being the first to go into the forest, to find the best fruit before anyone else could.

With a flashlight in one hand, a bag in the other, and a machete hanging from my belt, I followed the trail I knew so well. The forest seemed to envelop me as I moved forward, and the darkness was cut only by the weak beam of my flashlight. The sound of my footsteps mixed with the buzzing of insects, but I wasn’t bothered. I grew up here; I knew every corner of this part of the forest like the back of my hand.

As I walked, I began looking for fruit in the nearby trees. Some branches swayed lightly with the wind, and I could see shadows moving among the leaves. Everything seemed normal until, in the middle of the darkness, a sound I had never heard before echoed through the forest. A howl… but it wasn’t like any dog or animal I knew.

My body froze for a second, and I looked around, trying to figure out where the sound was coming from. My heart started racing.

I stood still, trying to listen more closely, but the howl repeated, this time closer. A feeling of fear I had never felt before began to creep up my spine.

It didn’t seem like any ordinary animal you’d find in the forest. I started walking back, faster now, nervously glancing to the sides. The flashlight shook slightly in my hand.

Then I heard branches snapping, as if something large was moving through the forest, following me. The howl turned into a growl that now sounded frighteningly close. My breathing grew heavy, and the fear overtook me. I ran. I didn’t think of anything but escaping. I ran as fast as my legs would carry me, dodging trees and branches, while the sound of that thing chasing me grew louder. It was behind me—I could feel it.

My legs ached, sweat poured down my face, but I couldn’t stop. Panic consumed me, and the sound of something heavy running through the trees came closer and closer. I glanced back quickly but saw nothing but shadows, just an impression of something big and fast.

That’s when, in the middle of the darkness, I almost collided with a familiar figure. My father! He was there, holding his shotgun, his eyes wide as he saw me. I didn’t have time to explain. The creature was close, and the sound of breaking branches was terrifying. My father, without hesitation, raised the shotgun and fired in the direction of the sound.

The shot echoed through the forest, and the noise of something heavy falling made me realize that the creature had been hit. But then I heard it fleeing, dragging itself through the trees, letting out a high-pitched whimper. A trail of blood gleamed in the faint light of my flashlight. My father was breathing heavily, staring into the woods, alert, but the thing was already gone.

We stood there for a while, both trying to make sense of what had just happened. The day started to brighten, but even in the morning light, we couldn’t find the creature. Just the trail of blood, disappearing among the trees.

We didn’t know what it was. And maybe it was better that way.