# The Braying
Sarah jolted awake, heart pounding. The sound came again - a harsh, guttural bray that echoed across the darkened valley. She fumbled for her phone, squinting at the too-bright screen. 3:17 AM.
*Damn donkeys*, she thought groggily. The Wilsons' farm was at least a mile away, but sound carried far out here in the country. Sarah had moved from the city just three months ago, seeking peace and quiet after her divorce. So much for that.
She was about to try to go back to sleep when another bray rang out, closer this time. Much closer. Right outside her window, it seemed.
Sarah sat up, suddenly wide awake. That was impossible. There were no donkeys anywhere near her property.
Unless...
*No. Don't be ridiculous*, she scolded herself. But her mind raced with half-remembered folktales and superstitions. Hadn't she read something once about donkeys braying at night being a bad omen? A harbinger of death?
Another bray, definitely right outside now. Sarah's breath caught in her throat as a dark shape moved past her bedroom window.
Heart pounding, she crept to the window and peeked out. The full moon cast an eerie glow over her overgrown yard. At first she saw nothing. Then a figure emerged from the shadows.
It wasn't a donkey.
The creature stood on two legs, its body vaguely human-shaped but wrong somehow - too tall, too thin, its proportions subtly *off*. Its head was enormous and elongated, with a gaping muzzle and long, twitching ears.
As Sarah watched in horror, it opened its mouth and let out another ear-splitting bray.
She scrambled back from the window, clapping a hand over her mouth to stifle a scream. *This isn't real*, she thought desperately. *I'm dreaming. I have to be dreaming.*
But she knew she wasn't. The racing of her heart, the chill of sweat on her skin - this was all too vivid to be a nightmare.
Something scraped against the side of the house. Sarah's gaze snapped to her bedroom door. Was it coming inside?
She looked around frantically for a weapon, grabbing a heavy brass lamp from her nightstand. Her phone was still on the bed. She needed to call for help.
As she lunged for the phone, the power went out. Sarah froze in the sudden darkness, straining her ears. For a long moment, the only sound was her own ragged breathing.
Then came a soft *click* from the hallway. The sound of a door opening.
Sarah's breath caught in her throat. She gripped the lamp tighter, willing her trembling arms to be steady.
Floorboards creaked in the hallway, slow and deliberate. Coming closer.
Her bedroom door began to ease open.
Sarah's entire body tensed, ready to swing the lamp with all her might. But as the door swung wide, revealed only empty darkness beyond.
For a heartbeat, Sarah felt a flicker of relief. Then a face thrust itself through the doorway - long and equine, with wild rolling eyes and yellowed teeth bared in a grotesque grin.
It brayed, the sound deafening in the confined space. Sarah screamed and swung the lamp. It connected with a sickening *crunch*.
The creature reeled back. Sarah bolted for the door, shoving past the stunned monster. She raced down the hall and flew down the stairs, taking them three at a time.
Behind her came the thunder of hooves on hardwood.
Sarah hit the front door at a dead run, fumbling with the lock. Just as she got it open, something slammed into her from behind. She went sprawling onto the porch, the breath driven from her lungs.
Gasping, she rolled over. The creature loomed above her, silhouetted against the night sky. A trickle of dark liquid oozed from a dent in its misshapen skull where she'd struck it with the lamp.
It opened its mouth, but instead of braying, it spoke. The voice was deep and guttural, yet horribly human.
"Sarah," it said. "We've been waiting for you."
Her name in that monstrous voice sent ice through her veins. "What are you?" she whispered.
The thing cocked its head, ears twitching. "We are the in-between. Not human, not animal. Forgotten by both."
"What do you want with me?"
"To show you the truth. To make you one of us." It extended a hand - no, a hoof.
Sarah scrambled backwards. "No! Stay away from me!"
The creature followed, implacable. "You don't belong here, Sarah. You never did. Not in the city, not in your marriage. But you can belong with us."
Tears streamed down Sarah's face. How did it know these things? The loneliness, the feeling of being adrift that had plagued her for years?
"Join us," the creature crooned. "No more pain. No more doubt."
For a moment, Sarah wavered. Then her hand brushed something in the grass - a chunk of firewood she'd left on the porch. Her fingers closed around it.
"No," she said firmly.
The creature's eyes narrowed. It lunged for her, mouth opening impossibly wide.
Sarah swung the log with all her strength. It connected with the thing's jaw with a sickening crack. The creature stumbled back, braying in pain and rage.
Sarah scrambled to her feet and ran. She had no destination in mind, just an animal instinct to get away. Behind her, she heard the thunder of pursuit.
She raced across her overgrown yard and plunged into the woods beyond. Branches whipped her face as she ran blindly through the trees.
The thing was still behind her. She could hear it crashing through the underbrush, braying that horrible human-donkey cry.
Sarah's lungs burned. She couldn't keep this pace up much longer. As if sensing her fatigue, the creature's cries grew louder, more triumphant.
Just as Sarah felt her legs about to give out, the trees thinned. She burst out of the woods into a clearing.
In the center stood a circle of standing stones, ancient and moss-covered. Sarah had never seen them before, though she'd explored these woods many times since moving in.
Without thinking, she raced for the stone circle. As she crossed the perimeter, she felt a strange electric tingle wash over her.
The creature burst from the trees a moment later. But it skidded to a halt at the edge of the clearing, braying in frustration.
Sarah watched in amazement as it paced the perimeter of the clearing, unable or unwilling to approach the standing stones.
"You can't hide in there forever," it snarled, its words oddly slurred around its broken jaw.
"Maybe not," Sarah panted. "But I'm not joining you either."
The creature's ears flattened against its skull. "Then you'll die alone. Forgotten and unmourned, just like us."
"I'd rather die human."
The monster reared up on its hind legs and let out one final, furious bray. Then it turned and galloped back into the forest.
Sarah sank to her knees in the damp grass, trembling with exhaustion and fading adrenaline. She knew she should run, should get as far away from this place as possible.
But something made her hesitate. She looked around at the standing stones that had inexplicably protected her. In the pre-dawn light, she could make out faint carvings on their surfaces - spirals and symbols she didn't recognize.
This place was old. Far older than her little farmhouse, older than the town a few miles away. Perhaps even older than human memory.
Sarah realized she had a choice to make. She could run back to the city, back to the life that had left her feeling empty and alone. Pretend this had all been a bad dream.
Or she could stay. Learn the secrets of this land that was far stranger and more dangerous than she'd ever imagined.
As the sun crested the horizon, Sarah made her decision. She stood up, brushed herself off, and began to examine the symbols on the nearest stone.
She was done running away from her problems. Whatever weirdness this place held, she would face it head-on.
And if those donkey-creatures ever came back, she'd be ready for them.