u/InternationalBar1513

Part 1 posted here:
https://www.reddit.com/r/TalesFromTheCreeps/s/xoOctlpKqJ

Part 2
The creature 

I neared the mass, my hands were shaking so much I almost dropped my flashlight. Whatever I’d found was enormous. Its enormity stretched beyond the grass and towards the trees, further and further, as thought it was reaching into the night sky. The longer I looked at it, the harder it was to tell where it ended. It felt like staring into the abyss, only this abyss seemed to be staring back. 

Every part of my mind and body was telling me to turn around and run. But I couldn’t. I don’t know if it was curiosity, I don’t think it was, but I felt almost pulled to it. Like I needed to get closer before I could understand what I was looking at. I felt magnetised, like the only way I could move was forward. 

When I was about twenty feet away from it, I stopped. 

It wasn’t an animal. Or at least, it wasn’t any kind of animal I’ve ever seen. 

Its body was unexplainable. A mass of eyes and tendrils formed its figure. With bubbling, uneven shapes all moving in ways I couldn’t comprehend or follow. There were deep openings scattered across it, so deep I felt like I could see its insides. Some looked as though they were closing as I watched them and others appeared to open up and stretch out, almost as if it was breathing. 

It was beyond reality, or at least, it was far beyond anything I’ve ever seen. I couldn’t make sense of its shape or the way it moved. I could see where it was but I couldn’t make out where it began or ended, almost like it didn't quite belong in the space it was inhabiting. Its body rippled and waved into the surrounding darkness, making it impossible for me to focus on one part of it for too long without losing track of where I was looking. 

My head began to hurt.

It started as a dull ache just behind my eyes, but the more I looked at it, the sharper it became, stabbing through my skull like a charging bull. I knew I should have looked away but the more it hurt, the harder it became to stop staring. 

Its surface shifted again.

Flesh, or what seemed to be flesh, started to hang from it in loose and sloppy curls, with other parts of it seeming to crust up and harden over. I couldn’t understand it.

I felt myself slipping away. Almost as if this thing was feeding off my consciousness. Draining me of everything I had. 

I dropped the flashlight.

It hit the ground and rolled, its beam spreading across the grass before coming to rest on the thing. 

I tried to move but nothing worked.

Nothing happened. 

I couldn’t even remember how to make my hands work, my legs work. It was as if this thing had full control over me. 

Just as my head felt like it would surely explode from the pressure, it stopped.

Everything stopped. 

The world around me went silent. No wind, no bugs. Nothing. For the first time since I had seen this thing I felt like I was able to breathe normally.

Then it started again.

But this time, no pain. The only thing to enter my head was a sound I couldn’t make any sense of. A deep, inhuman, almost wet, gargling sound that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere all at once flooded my head. I couldn’t even tell if the noise was coming into my ears or blasting out of them.

Was it trying to talk to me?

If it was, I couldn't understand a damn thing.

I fell to my knees, clawing at my temples to try to dim the sound.

One of its large tendrils escaped from the mass and slowly reached out towards me. Something gooey and thick dripped from it as it moved, hitting the ground with a wet thud.

Then I heard it. Something was buried beneath the gargling.

A voice.

“Gubbuba gub… hunnn … flabba… doo..  tttt…. Gobbala…. Huntttt … aobbaloo…”

Silence again. 

Then.

“Hunter!”

“Fuck this!”

I forced myself up and ran.

I scrambled my way towards the truck, stumbling through the grass and begging my legs to hold under the pressure. I was desperate to keep as much distance between myself and that thing. 

I was almost there when something grabbed my shoulder. 

I froze

At first, I thought for sure it was one of those dripping tendrils.

But then I felt fingers.

A hand. 

I turned, almost certain I was turning to my death at the mercy of this creature. 

But it was gone. 

Standing just behind me was a man. 

He was handsome, unnaturally handsome at that. The kind of face that feels familiar even though I’m certain I've never met him before.

He looked at me as though he knew exactly who I was.

“How do you know my name?”

Part 1
The farm

I've never felt like this life was right for me. I guess I just went along with where life took me, the wife that led to kids, the farm that led to nothing. I don’t even know why I’m writing this, maybe I’m hoping that someone will be able to relate? Probably not with the specifics though. I also don’t expect anyone to believe me. Hell, if I was reading this a few weeks ago I wouldn’t have believed it, but I guess I just need to get it out. It’s not like I can talk to anyone, especially not my wife, but you’ll see why I say that. 

I might get a bit graphic during later parts of this, sorry if that’s not your thing. I know some of this is going to sound strange. Believe me, I know how it sounds. But I’m going to tell it exactly as it happened, even the parts I’d rather leave out.

Anyways, I’m getting ahead of myself. Let me start at the beginning. I was born in 1990 to a couple of conservative farmers out in the middle of bumfuck, Kansas, meaning that my whole life I’ve known my path. Find a wife, settle down and raise cattle. That’s it. That’s all I’ve ever known and all I’ve ever expected, until recently.

I went to school with 104 other kids, kindergarten to senior year. It wasn’t uncommon for folk to go to college, but I didn’t see the point in it personally. Why build up debt when my future was already sealed? 

Anyways, all of this is just to say, while, yes, there is community, and yes, everyone knows your business, you’re mostly expected to get by on your own, pull yourself up by your bootstraps, as they say. And I’ve always lived like that. It made it easier to hide that I’ve been living a lie. Hell, I’ve even been lying to myself for the past 36 years. I’ve always known deep down that this isn’t who I am, I’ve often fantasised about more, but it never felt possible, until now. 

That brings us to about a month ago, in early July, when my main concern was keeping myself and the cattle alive through the summer heat. I’d just moved them into a fresh section of pasture when I noticed something strange. None of them were grazing. They were just standing there, staring straight ahead. They weren’t scattered across the field like usual, but instead, they were standing in a pattern, all facing the same direction. 

I walked up to one of them and patted her back, hoping to get some sort of reaction. But nothing. She wasn’t even blinking. I ran through the usual possibilities in my head. Heat stress, illness, something they’d eaten. I didn’t think it was any of those, and I’d never seen them act like this before. 
I put it down to the heat, thinking maybe I should move them over to the trees? But they weren’t budging and there was nothing I could do to change that. 

I shook it off, maybe it was just a coincidence, or maybe the farm life was finally getting to me, making me see things. After all, the isolation, physical strain and 24/7 nature of the work was sure to have a negative effect on anyone. 

As I made my way back to the house, I glanced back. The cattle were grazing as usual, scattered across the pasture with no sign of the strange formation from earlier. I breathed a sigh of relief, mostly because whatever had happened didn’t seem to have affected them. The last thing I needed was a sick herd and a vet bill for something I couldn’t fix myself.

I stepped into the house, glad to close the door behind me and settle into my chair at the table.

“How was your day?” Allison asked.

“Fine.”

“Everything alright?”

“Just tired.”

She nodded and went back to her food before attempting to tell me about what she and the kids had got up to in town that day, though she barely got through a sentence without one of them interrupting her.

Then as usual, after dinner I did my rounds on the farm, securing the perimeters, checking the feed and water before doing a quick head count and taking myself to bed.

I decided against telling Allison about the cow’s unnatural behaviour. I didn’t want to stress her out, especially now that they seemed to be acting normal. 

The next few days were the same old, same old, working on the farm, battling the heat and keeping the wife and kids happy. 

That’s when the dog started acting strange. Rudy, our sixty-pound Australian Cattle Dog, had always been a docile, happy-go-lucky guy, but suddenly he became almost skittish. He wouldn’t go outside, as he usually did, after dinner. I had to coax him through the door so he could go use the bathroom. I just figured he’d seen a coyote or something. Thinking back, that’s also the first night he refused to even look in the direction of the pasture. 

That takes us to two weeks ago. It was a normal evening, right up until I started counting the cattle.
Six cows were missing. 

I counted again. Six were still missing. 

It was getting dark, so I quickly checked everything was secure before heading back to the house to grab a flashlight. 

I didn’t bother getting Rudy. I knew he wouldn’t come. 

“I’m going to check on the cows again.” I shouted to Allison. She gave no response so I headed out into my truck. 

After a few minutes of driving, I reached the field at the northern end of the farm. At first, I was relieved. What looked like a huddle of cows was gathered beneath some trees. 

As I got closer, though, I realised something was wrong. 

It was far too large to be cows.

I stopped the truck and switched on my flashlight, the beam cutting across the field towards the shape. 

That’s when I saw it.