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One Saturday night, I died.

I stood by that feeder.

It was one of those sort of standalone devices that folks use to feed deer or elk, perhaps moose. Whatever inhabits the land the device is placed on. A simple contraption, really: a large container atop three legs complete with a programmable timer that distributes the contents at various intervals. Not much to it, really.

Night was falling and the dusk bringing with it all sorts of odd sounds. Animals bedding down, animals setting out to do whatever it was they do at night, quiet wind sort of whooshing through the thickets and trees. Where I stood, by that feeder, was a small trail pushing its way through these woods, something carved out by machete, ATV and time. A spider nestled into her web not four feet from my head. Any minute now. She knew. The mosquitoes and beetles would begin the prowl.

The evening sounds had entranced me to the point that I never thought about reading the timer on that feeder, to see when it would begin tossing out the feed in all directions. So when corn and pellets began to pelt my midsection, I was caught more than a little off guard. Damnit, it was a new shirt, too.

I never heard it coming. I don't know how to stress that enough.

I never heard it coming.

Not a rustle of a leaf, not a cracking of a tree bending under the strength of its arms and legs. Nothing. Hell, I can't even count the horror movies I've seen where some idiot stands there, a heavy breathing, weighty monster lumbering up behind them, never hearing a damned thing.

And there I stood, hearing nothing but the click-clacking of the corn and pellets striking the spinning trough which sent them hammering into my body and in all other directions.

When it stepped out of the woods, I nearly peed in my pants. Jesus, man, who pees in their pants?

My first thought was Bigfoot. That thought left me as fast as it showed up. If this were what Bigfoot looked like, those nutjobs who're always looking for the legendary Sasquatch would be far less willing to ever actually see it in the flesh. No, it wasn't Bigfoot. Not some giant, hairy ape. Not some distorted alien from another planet, though where it had come from would have baffled me in retrospect.

Seven feet of monstrosity stood before me. Something I could only describe as demonic. Something just god-awful. Skin torn and scarred, as though thousands of battles must have been fought by this creature. Some won. Others lost. Badly. Fingernails that could pierce the hood of a car. It stood,

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