Bedded by the Beast

Emma had always known Maple Creek was a small town. The kind where neighbors waved as they passed by, where everyone knew each other's business, and where time seemed to slow down, making life feel more like a gentle walk than a race. After spending most of her adult life here, she had grown used to the simplicity of it all. The routine. The quiet. It was a town that allowed you to breathe, to exhale, without feeling rushed.

Her little bookstore, Wandering Pages, was the heart of her world. It wasn't much-just a small shop tucked away at the end of Main Street, with dusty wooden shelves, the smell of old paper, and soft jazz playing in the background. She'd inherited the shop from her grandmother, and the thought of leaving it behind was unthinkable. The place was everything to her.

As evening began to fall, Emma locked up the shop, feeling the usual calm that came with the end of a busy day. The streets were quiet. Too quiet. She shrugged it off, locking the door with a sigh of satisfaction. It was a good day. A slow day, but the kind that reminded her why she loved this place.

But tonight was different.

The wind had shifted, and the temperature dropped suddenly, leaving a chill in the air. It wasn't unusual for autumn to be crisp, but there was something unsettling about the way the evening felt, as if the air itself was holding its breath. She pulled her coat tighter around her shoulders, casting a glance at the horizon where the sun was dipping below the tree line. The night was closing in fast.

Emma loved the walk home. It was her quiet time to clear her head, to escape the world of books and customers and just... breathe. The trees along the street swayed slightly in the breeze, casting long, stretched shadows across the road. The path was familiar, comforting, but tonight-tonight it seemed different. Something in the air made her uneasy.

A sound broke through the silence. Low at first, barely noticeable. She stopped walking, her footsteps crunching against the fallen leaves. The sound echoed again, growing louder, sharper. A growl. The kind of growl that didn't belong to any animal she knew. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up.

Emma's first instinct was to turn around, to see if anyone was behind her, but there was nothing. Just the road, the trees, the deepening night. She strained her ears. Another growl. This time, it was unmistakable. It was deep, guttural, full of menace, and it sent a shiver crawling up her spine.

She told herself it was just an animal-a coyote, maybe, or some wild dog. There were plenty of them in these woods. But as the sound echoed again, it felt wrong. The hair on her arms prickled.

Something's out there.

Her mind raced. She was being irrational, she told herself. Nothing ever happened in Maple Creek. She was just being paranoid. The growls faded into the distance, leaving only the rustling of leaves in the breeze. She took a deep breath, pushing her anxiety away, and continued walking, trying to calm her racing heart.

But then, it came.

A howl.

It was long, mournful, and wild. The sound reverberated through the trees, a high-pitched, otherworldly sound that seemed to cut right through the air. Emma froze. This wasn't a coyote or any animal she had ever heard. This was something else. Something... primal.

Her heart started pounding in her chest, faster, harder. Her feet seemed glued to the ground as her breath hitched. The howl seemed to go on forever, and Emma found herself staring into the woods, her eyes wide, her pulse quickening.

Her instincts screamed at her to run.

But before she could make a move, a figure emerged from the shadows of the trees.

A man.