Sam’s Gap to 19E: A Hiking Horror Story

In the middle of the night, I awoke, coming to my senses. If only for a short while. Now there were just a few stray clouds in the sky. And I could see a full moon creeping out from behind one of them. So now, at last, I knew that I’d finally have my one true chance at revenge. And when that full moon finally revealed itself in all its brazen glory. Its bright silvery light cascading down all around me.

That’s when my transformation began. And I became the bloodthirsty killer beast that raged deep inside me.

But the pain of that transformation. Was unbearable torture. Ripping the soul right out of me. And it literally altered, crushed, broke, and destroyed every part of me. Until I was no longer me in body, mind, soul, or spirituality. Rather, I was now this new creature in entirety. With gnashing teeth, bared; sharp claws, ready for attacking; and fleet paws, poised for chasing down prey.

And so, I turned my furry muzzle to the full moon and howled so thunderously that I’d have sworn it would’ve awoken the very dead from their graves. Then, at last, I turned my searing eyes to the lights that I could see in the distance, creeping up the slopes of Roan Mountain.

So now the final chase was on.

In a predatory state. In which only a single-minded killer instinct existed inside of me. And smell, hearing, and the heavy sound of my breathing and heart beating wildly were everything. A predatory state, during which I found that all of my endless awareness and intense focus were so consummate that I could’ve literally heard a pin drop in a distant valley. And smelled and tasted the warm blood of a rabbit nibbling on greenery in a meadow over ten miles away! Yes, it was in this pure state of ultimate awareness that I initiated my unrelenting pursuit after those five men.

None of whom would ever stand any chance in Hell of defending themselves against the unstoppable apex predator that was inevitably coming to get them all. Now!

At a rate of speed that was so blinding that I could only be perceived as a fleeting shadow of a werewolf, streaking up the Appalachian Trail under the pale moonlight in hot pursuit of my unwitting prey.

And no, I’m not ashamed to say that I took all of them out on the slopes on Roan Mountain that night.

The first man being the easiest. Christ, he didn’t even know what was coming, when I leapt on his back, dug my claws into his chest, and sunk my razor-sharp fangs deep into his throat. But just before he fell, he managed to let out a bloodcurdling scream, alerting his friends to the dark terror that was coming their way, like a wild fire dragging Hell in its wake.

So no, they’d not escape my wrath. My seething rage. My searing yellow eyes.

And soon, the second hiker fell beneath me, letting out another scream. And was gone, too. Existing no more.

The third man. The one with the gun. What was he thinking? That he’d somehow save himself? Running and fleeing, like a frightened hen. Up the trail to Roan Mountain. Moving at a snail’s pace, compared to the insanely swift monster on his heels.

Still, his gun fired harmlessly a few times at the elusive shadow of a werewolf that was somehow in front of, behind, and beside him, all at once. Then, he was gone, too. In a moment of terror, baring of teeth, slashing of claws.

And afterwards, all that remained of him was his blood and guts splashed and splattered, like red paint, against a rock wall outcropping along the trail.

Still unsatiated, I rushed upwards, slaying the last two men. And no, I didn’t even feel a hint of pity or remorse, as the last one begged and screamed for help and mercy. Then, for his Mom, as the blood sprayed out of him. Yes, he was the youngest and fastest of them all. A real gazelle. But he was no more. And that was that.

And now I was all alone, at last. In the lead. With no man ahead of me.

So I carried on to the peak of Roan Mountain. Where I finally stopped and lifted my bloody muzzle to the full moon, letting out a heart-stopping howl at the top of my lungs.

So that the whole world would know for all time that I was the one. The ultimate predator. The alpha wolf.

Killer of men, women, children. Or anyone else who was foolish enough to venture onto the hiking trails of the Southern Appalachians under the banner of a full moon. When I’d be prowling the mountains, rivers, and valleys. In search of someone else to chase, catch, slay, kill, and slaughter.

Howl! Howl!! Howl!!!

After a long career in the publishing industry, Gary Alan left his corporate job to pursue his next adventures in life as a blogger, writer, investor, fly fisherman, hiker, and traveler. He is the author of the adventure fiction book, 'Big Thunder-Hearted River'.