horror story

The dunes were quiet and cold as John Fitzer walked upon them. The wind whistled by, sending individual grains of sand spiraling along in an endless churn. John breathed heavily as he worked his way up a particularly steep, windy sand trail, sweat forming on his brow, then catching the breeze and dispersing into the atmosphere. He had been walking for the better part of an hour. He was surrounded now by an endless expanse of sand. The path he was traveling had been well tread and he was thankful for this because it would be hard to keep his bearings without it.
Clouds were forming and the sky seemed to grow darker in a very short period of time. John puzzled over this for a moment but continued on his way, confident that he would be reaching his destination soon, that being the rural strip of highway that ran the length of the dune and the suburban landscape that was on the other side.
John kept a steady pace. Each step he took, however, caused him noticeable fatigue. His legs were growing tired and there was a very distinct ache in his thigh muscles that made him stiffen with every step. The highway should be coming soon. Even at the top of this hill it might come into view. This thought gave John a little extra motivation and he quickened his pace, ignoring the increasing pain in his thighs.
He noticed now that the path that he was on had become clear of footprints. As far as he could see the sand was unbroken, with only the natural, windblown curves that differentiated each dune from every other. This was strange to John. The path did not split and as far as he was aware, this was the only direct way across this expanse of sand. Why would it not be riddled with steps after it had been up to this point?
He raced forward but each step seemed harder and harder to take. His feet seemed to become very heavy. It was as if they were being dragged down by some source from below the surface. John was having trouble taking steps now. He was fighting but was unable to clear his feet from the sand. He was only able to drag them, now grasping his legs and pulling forcibly, perhaps creating a humorous image to anyone who could have seen him, pulling at his legs and only shuffling along inch by inch. The severity of the situation was that his movement was being obstructed, he seemed almost to be attached to the sand in an irresistible and unbreakable bond.
John was unable to move at all now. He struggled and shook and screamed in terror. He dropped to his knees, feeling the dragging weight over his whole body, forcing him against his will down towards the soft, sandy floor. He was sucked down, sprawled out completely. He dug his hands deep into the sand, searching hopelessly for some sandy purchase. He cried now and yelled for help but there was no one to come to his aid. The force seemed to be increasing and now the sandy surface below him seemed to decrease in solidity. He began to sink, the crushing, dragging weight pulling him down. John raked his fingers along the sand as he sunk. Sand forced its way into his mouth and nose as he was pulled under. He was having trouble breathing now, gasping for air with only sand finding its way down his throat.
He screamed in pain. What felt like sharp nails were ripping at his legs, penetrating deeply into his calves. He felt the warmth of his own blood pour down his legs. Then came the sickening sensation of his legs being pulled apart, his bones crushing as a terrible force pulled and tore, separating the bones and sinews at the knee. John tried to scream but no more breath would come and none would leave through the sand clogging his nose and mouth. He felt himself grow faint and his eyes closed while the terrible scraping continued and he disappeared below the surface of the sand.
John came around and immediately noticed the pain in his legs. He groped them only to find wet stumps with sharp pieces of bone sticking out. He choked on sand and finally uttered screams and then more of them. The place was dark and cold. John stared desperately around in the pitch, trying to get his bearings, trying to ignore the pain in his legs and think rationally. As his eyes adjusted, it seemed to John that he was in a tunnel. The walls were solid, the sand having been bonded together. They were strong and did not give under Johns force.
It felt the vibration of movement through the walls of its sand home. It liked its prey alive and struggling and now was the time. It raced down the tunnel, spit dripping down its large serrated teeth. The taste of man’s blood when it licked its claws fueled its hunger.
John heard scraping. He saw something in the dark coming towards him now but he was unable to discern what it was. Only the yellow of its eyes could be seen, piercingly bright and approaching rapidly. He felt a terrible weight and a blinding pain as whatever it was attacked, pinning him down and sinking its razor sharp claws deep into his stomach. John screamed as a mouth opened wide and closed around his face.
Above the surface, Jerry and Alison Deveuve were sweating as they made their way up a steep, sandy path, and looked at each other in wonder as the footsteps they had been following disappeared. Below, the tunnel walls vibrated. It licked its lips. Blood dripped down its mouth but its hunger was never satisfied. It was time to feed again.