The Bingelings


By Joshua Daniels

         As he walked down the path through the woods he could hear them fluttering through the tree tops.  They kept their distance not wanting anything he had to offer.  Each time he would cover a distance of twenty or thirty feet they would scamper from limb to limb just enough to stay out of reach but keep him in sight.
          As he walked he thought of his friend he had lost, wondering what he must have felt when they attacked.  He could still hear him screaming with each step that he took.  He’d pause to collect his thoughts and the fluttering from above would cease, bring him to the realization that he wasn’t out of danger just yet.
          The load he was carrying had made him tired.  Not to mention the battle they had faced just to kill her.  As he came to a bit of a clearing in the dense woods he flung their mother off his shoulder and on to the ground. She landed with a hollow thud and suddenly the woods became deathly quiet.
           He let out his breath and sighed.  Reaching for a cigarette consisted of taking the pack from his left pocket and the lighter from his right shirt pocket, he pondered why he did not keep the two together.  As he lit the cigarette he could hear them move just a little in the trees behind him.  He released a much needed breath of nicotine and glared at the bright star over the edge of the mountain.  Who would believe what he had found in the hills of Tennessee, just 20 miles outside of Oakridge.  He looked back at the woods in the direction of which he just came as he took another hit.
          He was in the open now and they would be at a disadvantage.  He stared into the woods trying to focus on their position.  Even though he could not see them clearly he remembered them all too well from the campfire. His thoughts returned once again to his friend. 
          Could it have been some kind of nuclear testing that took place here years ago that made these freaks of nature and how many more were there in these mountains.  It didn’t matter he thought.  Once he disposed of her he wasn’t ever coming back.
          Taking a final draw and disposing his cigarette to the ground he slowly moved his foot over it and put out the flame. As he resumed his journey he could hear them move again as he flung the woman back over his shoulder.  Were there ten, twelve or more of these eaters he thought to himself?  He adjusted the corpse on his shoulder just right and proceeded on.
          He could remember them attacking his friend again with each new step.  They were each about two feet in height.  They looked almost human and moved similar to the way a gorilla would move.  Their claws were razor sharp.  There skin looked 100 years old.  They could fly only short distances from what he could tell and were extremely fast.  They used the patch of skin that attached from elbow to knee to leap from tree to tree in the way a flying squirrel would do. The mother had small sagging breasts down the front, 10 or 12 like a dog with crying pups to feed would have.  They had bat-like faces with small razor sharp teeth that would shear bones at an instant.  They consumed his friend like a pack of walking piranhas he remembered.  Blood soaked grass was all that remained after the short struggle.
          The mother of these creatures was the only thing that kept both of them from perishing at the campfire earlier that night.  He happened to be in contact with her dead body when the creatures turned towards him. They would not come close enough to cause any harm as long as he touched her.  He and his friend had hunted down and killed the mother earlier with a blast from a shotgun.  She was bigger and slower and made for an easier target.  This was the second time they had killed her.
          When his friend’s wife was devoured during their first encounter with the beasts a few nights before, they just barely were able to escape with their own lives.  The struggle only lasted a few moments, and as he and his friend fled to the woods the mother lay dead from a rock that his friend managed to bash over her head. It was too late to save his wife from her horrible fate.   From a distance they watched in horror as the beasts fed their consumed prey to their mother through her breasts.  It was exactly the opposite of the law of nature.  The children feed the parent.  And as they did this the dead mother began to twitch and move and was resurrected.  The Bingelings as he had named them because of the way in which they binged on the bodies of their prey, stopping only when there was none left to consume. 
          Up ahead he could see his car on the other side of the clearing.  He could hear them in the grass now from behind him.  He was growing exhausted as he approached the car.  They were closer now somewhere behind him maybe ten or twelve feet. As he arrived at the vehicle he reached in his pocket retrieving the key to the trunk.  Opening the trunk he grabbed a full can of gas with his left hand. He placed the mother’s carcass on the ground making sure to keep grasp of her with the other. He could hear them getting even closer now. He held the can in his left hand as he poured the gas all over her making sure not to let go of her arm and not to get any of the flammable liquid on his shoes.  Keeping grasp of her arm as the small creature lay on the ground required him to bend over to reach her, causing his lighter to slip out of his shirt pocket.  With cat like reflexes he dropped the mothers arm to catch the lighter.  The can, the lighter, and chunks of meat hit the ground.

Written by Joshua Daniels

Edited by Damon Warlick

Published by Iris Presley

Dedicated to: Randy, Bo, Keith, Danny, Eddie,Darryl, Paul, Big Johnny,
 Jimmy Dale, Shane, Jeff, Wade, Jimmy, Rick, Shawn, Steven and Ricky Rat.

Copyrighted by Joshua Daniels  2011-11-08

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