Two Gentlemen Naturalists

A short horror fantasy story

I am writing this letter to document the true account of what happened in the case I succumb to illness or toxin, as I fear may be the case.

My dear friend Jeremiah and I make the habit of a weekly trip into the country. We ride our bicycles and follow the country road until we no longer see signs of human habitation, then we set out on foot to examine the flora and fauna of the area. In this activity it is our intent to fortify our constitutions with the clean air and clear skies far from the city, but also to stimulate our minds in the study of nature.

In fact, we consider ourselves to be astute amateur naturalists. We search with the hope to discover new species which we could name and secure ourselves a place in scientific history. Of course, when we make these excursions we go prepared, dressed in hounds-tooth or tweed and armed with opera glasses, sketch pads, and apothecary jars for samples. Upon return to the house we take great delight in the hours spent researching naturalist journals and lithographic tomes to identify all that we had observed. On this day something quite different happened.

It seemed to be the perfect day out. The temperature was mild but sunny with fluffy white clouds lazily drifting by.

We had come as we usually do, stowing our vehicles near a recognizable stand of trees and set out on foot. Very soon Jeremiah motioned me to quietly approach. When I was at his side he asked quietly, “Do you hear laughter?” I had not, but standing motionless I did notice a whispering coming from the woods edge and nodded.

Crouched low, we approached slowly. This time I certainly heard voices that were shrill and high pitched. “It may be a swarm of insects.” I murmured uncertainly, but we continued our approach with caution for it sounded like no insect that I had ever heard.

“Did it just snigger?” He asked and indeed I did hear a sound like the stifling of laughter before going absolutely silent. I was about to continue but Jeremiah put his hand out to stop me. He pointed to the high grass where some of it had been bent down. I leaned and peered into the depression and saw what looked to be a twisted knot, like a woven basket, crafted from unbroken stalks of grass. Upon the nest was a single golden egg. Now normally when I speak of a golden egg it might be an exceptional shade of the normally taupe pheasant’s egg, but I tell you that this egg looked to be made of metallic gold.

In that moment the lure of vocal insects went from our minds and we each stared at the egg with the gleam of discovery in our eyes. Disregarding any forbearance that one might observe in investigation of a novel discovery he carefully lifted the egg from the nest for examination. I did not object, as I certainly should have, but instead also observed from where I stood only a few feet away.

“Feels heavy like real gold.” He held it close to his eye to examine the reflection of light. “I don’t see any casting or tool marks.” He was about to say more when it expelled a cloud of very fine particulate that glittered in the sunlight. The cloud was illuminated like a spray of colored sparks but at the same time it was unlike anything I had ever seen. Jeremiah dropped the egg and fell onto his back coughing violently. I rushed to his aid and turned him onto his side while I poured water from my flask over his face. It seemed to flush his eyes and face clear but his coughing was so terrible that he vomited into the grass.

When the coughing had subsided we agreed that we must return home at once and call for the doctor. I collected the egg, which had deflated slightly, and also collected samples of the expelled substance from his jacket, each stored in specimen jars carefully stowed in my satchel. Before our departure I performed a cursory examination and found that his eyes were inflamed yet he reported no visual difficulty. He did report that his lungs burned when he breathed but no more than a night of heavy pipe smoking or a bout of hay fever.

"I will be fine," He told me when we returned to the house. "just let me lay down for a minute." I could see that his skin was flushed and speculated that he may have taken fever so I led him to the solarium to lie on a table and sent an errand boy to fetch the doctor quickly. I made a preparation of camphorated menthol mixed with eucalyptus oil and applied it to a cloth for Jeremiah to inhale, hoping that it would open his airways.

Meanwhile, I placed the specimen jars on a table and found that the egg had deteriorated severely and now resembled the ash of an incinerated calling card resting in a strata of the same glittering particulate that it had expelled. With a magnifying glass I examined the particulate and it proved to be a highly reflective substance that refracted the sunlight, showing the whole spectrum of color when viewed from different angles. The individual particles were hard to see even under magnification, much smaller than any metal filings that I had ever seen.

Next I retrieved a tome of colored mycological etchings to try and identify what I call 'the egg' and as I suspected there were no descriptions of it recorded. The closest that I was able to find were some varieties of puff ball fungus but they differed in size, shape, colour and texture.

I began to sketch the state in which we discovered the specimen when Jeremiah's ragged breathing drew my attention. I hurried to the adjoining room to find my friend in a dreadful state. I cursed myself for my studious distractions.

His breathing was extremely laboured, his sweaty face vivid red and his eyes shifted from side to side in fevered frenzy. He moved his mouth to speak and yet no words came. I brought a wet cloth to his face and tried to ascertain what could be done. The doctor, when he arrived, might have some preparation to relieve the severe reaction but I had no training in attending this sort of calamity.

I leaned close to listen to his heaving chest and the wheezing strain was immediately apparent but another sound was also present. I closed my eyes to try and hear. There was a sound like the gurgling of digestion but also another like the sound of tearing cloth. Jeremiah shuddered violently, so much so that I was nearly thrown from my feet. I held his body to the table but was helpless to give any aid.

When the seizure had subsided there were no more breaths and when I felt for a pulse that too had ceased. Jeremiah, my dear friend, had died when little more than an hour ago we had both been active and vital in pursuit of our naturalist hobby. His death had been so swift that my head was spinning, we had both endured noxious encounters with irritating substances, falls, cuts and strained muscles but we never expected to encounter a danger such as this.

Who knew that there may be a fungus not only fiercely toxic but also waiting in ambush for our approach? We always take precautions, wearing gloves and never assuming a new species to be safe but Jeremiah had been so taken by this lure that his guard was let down.

I could not believe that he was dead and was grief struck. I began to experience a vertiginous nausea when I noticed something strange. His chest contracted and for a hopeful moment I thought that he was not dead after all but there was something unnatural about the movement.

His face was thankfully turned away from when I checked for a pulse. I saw his neck expand enormously and I took a few steps back. A ring of dark blood spread across the table around his head which jerked and twitched as if on a marionette. There was a loud crack of bone and a spill of blood and viscera overflowed the side of the table.

Something emerged from his distended mouth and stood. It was a slender figure, like a man. He was slicked in blood with gossamer wings plastered to his back. I stumbled back a few more steps and met with the shelves upon the wall. My hand found a large specimen jar and clasped it. Jeremiah's throat engorged again and expelled a second figure, a female of the same type.

The two stood there in the sunlight, oblivious to me as they flexed their wings slowly like newly hatched butterflies drying in sun beams. They were marvelous, I had never seen anything in nature or tome that came close. With exception of the maiden fly wings, they were human in design. Only ten inches tall and anatomically mature at birth.

I crept forward with caution, wishing that I had a net on hand and filled with fantasies about recognition for this inconceivable discovery. The male yawned widely, his jaw extending beyond the range of a normal human and exposing multiple rows of tiny triangular teeth. A spike of fear pierced my heart, darkening my illusions of grandeur, and yet I continued to advance.

Both of them were facing away from me, still basking in sun beams and peeling black flakes of drying gore from their bodies. I expected that I might capture at least one of them if I moved quickly. Within arms reach I raised the jar with one hand and held the lid with the other. The female turned and her inhuman eyes, sky blue and milky from lid to lid, met my own. I made my move.

She let out a chittering cry even before I had initiated my capture attempt. The male looked up and they both leapt into the air, moving faster than I had ever seen any creature of their size.

They went in opposite directions as I swept the jar through empty space. I heard their fluttering wings first in one ear then the other and flinched away by instinct. In my mind I saw again that mouth full of tiny sharp teeth. In terror I dropped the jar and it shattered upon the flagstones. I stumbled about, only catching glimpses of the two as they spirited around my head like moths to a midnight lamp. I swatted at one as it passed close to my face and lost my balance. From the floor I could not see the creatures but heard them in the room, communicating in clicks and rolling chirps.

I looked about for something that could be used as a weapon and all I found was a stack of garden stakes beneath the table. I picked a piece and tried to decipher where they might be hiding. I grasped the edge of the table and pulled myself up to slowly peek over the horizon. There was Jeremiah, thankfully still facing away but I did not see the villainous sprites. I steadied myself on my knees, though shards of jar dug painfully into my skin, and looked around carefully before I rose to my feet.

I gripped the table with one hand, the other tight upon the stake and one foot carefully beneath me, ready to leap into action.

I saw the male hovering over Jeremiah two feet before me. It had a wicked grin stretched over those terrible teeth and just watched me, hovering. I struck out with the stake but in mid motion I felt a burning pain in my left hand. The stake flew from my grip and broke a window. I looked down to see the female holding to the base of my thumb with hands and teeth. When she tore away, a scoop of flesh went with her. My grip failed in that hand and I fell back flat to the floor.

The two flitted about the room, laughing in whistling trills. From where I lay I could see the shattered pane and I watched as the male streaked out through the jagged hole. The female paused holding the edge of the glass and looked directly at me. My fresh ruby blood streaked down from her face. She smiled and giggled before streaking away into the bright sky.

I have written this encounter as quickly and with as much description as possible, for I fear that I may not have another chance to pass it on.

The wound ceased bleeding unnaturally and a ring of grey scaly flesh formed around the rim. As I have been writing the color has spread nearly to my elbow and the skin has become thick and tough as saddle leather. It is apparent to me that some kind of infection has been introduced through the bite and it seems that the transformation will soon overtake my entire body.

Where we are in the outskirts of the city and with the messenger on foot I estimate that the doctor shall be arriving any moment. I have a strange feeling inside and I fear I may not be in my right senses when he arrives. I fear that these may well be my last communication as a human.

I can already detect a change coming over my mind. To protect the innocents who might come to my aid I feel I must flee. I will go to the place where the unfathomable agents of the wood set the trap that led to this situation and I plead that none go to that place in search of me, the golden egg or the mysterious dangers that may remain unidentified.

Sincerely,

William