Jesse

Then it straightened up and looked at me again.

And it smiled.

I've read other accounts where people describe this and I know how it sounds.

Things don't smile.

Animals don't smile.

Whatever this was, it wasn't human and it shouldn't have been capable of a human facial expression.

But the mouth widened and the lips pulled back and those packed rows of teeth were fully exposed and it was grinning at me with an expression that communicated something very specific.

Amusement.

It was amused.

It turned, not quickly.

Slowly, it turned its back to me and it walked toward the tree line at the edge of the yard.

Its gait was wrong, too smooth, too fluid, each step covering too much ground for the apparent effort.

It reached the trees and it kept walking, into the dark, into the creek bottom, gone.

I stood on the porch for a long time.

The floodlight timed out and the yard went dark and I stood there listening to the creek,

and the echo of the gunshot fading in my ears.

Mama appeared in the doorway behind me.

She had her robe on.

She looked at the shotgun in my hands.

She said, did you hit it?