The Visitors
The sunlight danced lazily through the trees as Harry knelt in the front garden, his hands working methodically to clear the weeds. The garden was peaceful, an oasis of calm amid the dense, untamed forest. Harry liked it this way–quiet, isolated, and his.
But the tranquility was broken by the sound of heavy footsteps, deliberate and intrusive, crunching through the dried leaves at the forests edge. Harry’s hands stilled, his head tilting slightly toward the sound.
From the shadows emerged three men, rough-looking and disheveled. Their eyes flicked warily around the clearing, taking in the gloomy, ramshackle house and the pale unnervingly composed boy who stood at its center.
"Well, well," The largest of them drawled, his voice gruff and mocking. "What's a kid doin' all alone out here?"
Harry straightened, brushing the dirt from his hands. His gaze locked onto them, cold and unblinking, his expression devoid of fear. "You're trespassing." He said evenly.
The smallest man, wiry and jittery, whispered to the others, "There's somethin' wrong with him. Look at those eyes."
Harry took a step forward, his movements measured and deliberate. "You should leave."
The third man, whose face was marred by a long scar, sneered. "Oh, and what're you gonna do if we don't? Where's your family, kid? Or are you out here all alone?"
Harry's lips twitched, the faintest shadow of a smile crossing his face. "You shouldn't be worried about me." He said, his voice almost playful. "You should be worried about what's behind you."
The men (Criminals) froz, their bravado faltering as a low, guttural growl rolled out from the treeline. It was a sound so deep, so primal, it seemed to vibrate through the earth itself.
"What the hell was that?" the wiry man hissed, gripping his knife tightly.
The growl grew louder, closer, and the shadows of the forest seemed to shift unnaturally. A hulking shape emerged from the darkness–Teeth. It's eye sockets seemed to brunch like twin embers, and it's massive form was framed by jagged shadows. Rows upon rows of glinting, larger than butcher knives, Teeth caught in the light, each one a testament to its deadly purpose
The largest man stumbled back, his face pale. "W-What the–"
Teeth pounced on him before he could finish, its massive jaws closing around him with a sickening crunch. Blood sprayed across the clearing as the man's scream was cut short.
The other two men panicked, turning to flee, but Teeth was faster. It leaped with terrifying grace, claws slashing through the air to bring down the scarred man. He hit the ground with a gurgling cry, his body convulsing briefly before going still.
The wiry man was the last, his legs pumping as he sprinted for the trees. He didn't get far. Teeth lunged, its enormous faws snapping shut around his torso, lifting him like a rag doll before tossing his lifeless body aside.
Harry stood in the garden, unmoving, watching the scene with calm detachment. His face betrayed no horror, no shock–only an eerie calmness.
When the forest was silent again, Teeth turned back to Harry, it's sockets locking onto him. Blood dripped from its jaws, pooling onto the ground.
Harry stepped forward, placing a hand on its rough, hard, blood coated skin. "Messy." He said softly, his tone almost teasing.
Teeth rumbled in response, lowering its head to nudge him gently.
"They won't be back," Harry said, his voice certain. "They won't ever be back."
Teeth huffed, a deep, satisfied sound, before retreating into the shadows, its massive form disappearing into the forest as if it had never been there.
Harry returned to his gardening, kneeling once more to tend to the plants. The clearing was calm again, the peace restored.
And Harry with his serene expression and bloodstained garden, smiled faintly to himself. The forest, as always, was safe.