Author Jaime Guerard
Austin put his arm around my shoulders and pulled me in tight. The house was about fifty feet away and the further we got from the truck, the more hurried I became, speeding up, trying to get out of this unprotected forest and into an enclosed building where I hoped to feel a little bit safer. Austin locked me to his side. I would’ve run if I could, but I didn't want to separate myself from him, not out here.
“I don’t see anything,” Austin tried to reassure me.
Then a crack came from our left, making us both jump and stop suddenly. Austin squeezed me tighter.
Breathing heavily, I whispered, “I know you heard that.”
“Yep,” he whispered back. He stood still, frozen like me, either waiting to hear something that would explain it, or for another sound that might send us bolting to the house. The row of cars parked along the driveway made it difficult to see into the forest.
“Do you see anything now?” I asked.
“No,” he whispered.
I looked up into the trees and there they were again, those two white eyes staring down at us.