Jason Kucharik [Kucharik - Red Blaze

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Red

Blaze

Jason Kucharik

Copyright 2017 Jason Kucharik

All rights reserved.

ISBN : 1545143269

ISBN-13 : 978-1545143261

CONTENTS

acknOWLEDGMENTS

I want to take a minute to thank fellow author and friend, Penegrin Shaw. Your work in horror and the poetic yet disturbing writing style youve developed was a huge inspiration for my first attempt at breaking into the horror genre. I would also like to thank Lawrence McNamara, Christian Dam, and Shawn Hockman. Our backpacking trips on the Appalachian Trail led to the idea for this story. Stacey Kucharik, as always, thank you for your expertise, consultation, and overall wisdom that helped finalize the story. John Regal, thanks for Whip and the frosty paw, it definitely helped me visualize Rufus on another level.

The Wraith

Darkness will never be the same so long as I occupy it. It is my comfort, my shelter, my cocoon of sadistic pleasure. No one can see who I am in the dark. They merely see the deeds of my actions and to most, theyre unthinkable. Its a benefit to someone like me; none can fathom and so none expect.

No stars tonight, too much cloud cover. I turn to look off the ridge to see only fog, an opaque wall of satisfaction obscuring distant residential and street lights from my view. Its a special kind of night when Im bathed in darkness. Its the injection that fuels my addiction. The drug itself...thats a different story.

The winds picks up, causing the hairs on my arms to stiffen. They want to stand, but the base layer Im wearing keeps them flush against my skin. Leaves rustle as the gust calls out to my senses, challenging them once more. This time of year, with leaves scattered all around, it can be difficult to move silently. There are two ways to combat this; use the wind as cover, or remove cover from your process. Ive employed both, but tend to stick with the latter. Being invisible isnt always about going unseen.

My ears perk as a small twig snaps behind me. The arm hairs, those uncontrollable bastards, pointlessly try to force their way through my base layer again. I freeze in place and close my eyes. Youd be surprised at how much you can hear when you train your ears to just listen. My breathing slows, my heartbeat mirrors the action. The sounds muffle and I become a part of the forest. A living, breathing entity, connected on an organic level with nature. My bare hand quietly maneuvers through the leaves and makes contact with the earth. Its touch absorbs any sense of heat from my palm, leaving a burning, lifeless piece of meat at the end of my wrist. Smaller, bare trees creek slowly back and forth. They sway for several moments before finally coming to a stop. Leaves rustle in a variety of locations. An owl hoots in the distance.

Nothing indicates that Im alone, yet nothing indicates that Ive been found. I open my eyes and scan the obscure forest. This process takes time at night. My eyes have adjusted to the pitch-black nature of an overcast eve, but to properly assess a forest in the dark I must stare at one particular location, watching, sensing, and extracting information from nature. I must ensure, without a doubt, there are no threats. That is all about small changes in the present moment. I must be positive. Staying invisible is priority number one. Im a ghost, an apparition, a nightmare born unto this world in a useless body of flesh and blood. A wraith in plain sight. My skill is the hunt, and that skill is unrivaled.

After focusing on the location of the noise for several minutes, my gaze shifts slightly to the right. Another twig snaps directly in front of me, closer this time. Whatever it is, its small, inhuman, and therefore not my concern.

Crack.

The sound reverberates through the forest, bouncing off of tree trunks and rocks until it seeps into my ears. This time the hairs on my arm stay flat, but my blood warms with excitement. That, was not a twig. That was not a squirrel or chipmunk. That was something else, something larger. Something that forces a smile on my face to the point of causing my teeth to clench and my cheeks to grow sore.

People fear the dark, and normally they have no reason to. Its an irrational emotion brought on by misconception and a of lack visual stimuli to their brain...but as long as I occupy the night, normalcy will be a distant dream. A fleeting hope that escapes comprehension as they try to rationalize everything I love and hold dear. There is but one option, however useless it may be, pray that fortune favors you. Pray that our paths never cross, pray that you dont take up hiking and I maintain my territory and ritual. Pray...because if we meet, the sheer amount of joy in my heart will not be contained and all you will know for the rest of your short life...will be dread.

Ryan and Kyle

Dont! I shout for the third time.

Wha-what? Ryan manages to squeeze out through coughs.

We only have so much of the...lettuce and I still want to, I look around the woods for some invisible presence that may record what Im saying. Have a good time, I finish warily.

Ryan exhales, Whoooo! Thats some good shit, and stop saying lettuce and have a good time for christssake. Its weed and get high. Were in the middle of the fucking woods, man.

Ryans right. Hes always right about this shit. I shuffle my feet around the dirt, then reach over to my pack and pull it close.

You know, I say pulling bratwurst, chips, and a six pack of beer out of bag, this is how its supposed to be.

Ryan exhales another puff of smoke then turns oddly serious. What? No. No this is not how its supposed to be! Backpacking is all about conserving weight, eating freeze-dried food, and drinking a bunch of water so you dont dehydrate. We, on the other hand, Ryan flippantly waves his hand at me then back to himself several times. We hiked a mile in with gourmet food, booze, and drugs and plopped down in the most comfortable spot we could find. Shit, we have a bluetooth speaker playing acoustic music thats being streamed from the internets. Ryan tends to unnecessarily pluralize words when hes high. This isnt how its supposed to be! He yells before blankly staring back at me. He can only hold the ruse for a few seconds before an ear to ear smile finds its way across his face. Thats just the way it is, man.

We both start laughing.

The wind picks up, and blows the last remaining wisps of smoke from Ryans pipe toward my face. As I reach out to indicate its my turn, the wind calms and I hear what sounds like someone stumbling down the trail forty feet away. A short, thin, blonde girl approaches our campsite. Her shirt is ripped to threads, there are scratches up and down her arms, and more than a few spots of blood across her skin. Even in the condition shes in, I can tell that shes strikingly beautiful.

Jesus, I yell at no one in particular. Ryan is just staring at her slack jawed, his high mind more than likely trying to figure out if shes real or a zombie. I launch up from my chair and rush over to her.

Please, she begs. Please help, please, she collapses into my arms. Do you have a knife? Please you have to, you have to save me from him.

Who? I ask rebounding from what little weight she has.

This guy in the woods. I dont know who he was, he just came out of nowhere and...

All right, calm down, I say helping her over to our fire. Girl may have been a simplification, she appears to be in her mid-twenties. Ryans two hits have kicked in full bore and hes just staring at the woman in my arms as I help her into my chair.

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