Odd as it may sound, I knew something was wrong not long after I turned my Jeep off the main Highland motorway and onto the single-lane road that would take me to Glen Ronald, and I became wary and anxious. I told myself there was no tangible reason for this unease, yet I desperately wanted to find a place to hide.

Fearfully, I raised my eyes to the rear-view mirror, but of course, there was nothing there…no demonic beast leered at me from the back seat, no scarlet-cloaked devil sat alongside me – but then it didn't require to have a physical form, did it ?

I clutched the steering wheel so tightly that my knuckles glowed white, and for the next few miles I steeled myself to ignore the shivers that ran across my back, and set to concentrating on the rutted, snow-covered track.

The craggy face of the old fisherman who I'd met in the hotel bar last night rose up to taunt me. His tales of supernatural happenings in Glen Ronald were scary, if you believed in that stuff, however, right now I felt I could well be a part of such a tale. I shrugged my shoulders and twisted my head trying to relieve the strain. My illogical fear was upsetting, because I'm a pretty down to earth sort, and not too accepting of anything abnormal. "Take a grip," I said aloud, "it's two o'clock on a bright winter's afternoon." But immediately, an annoying little voice in my head reminded me that terrible things don't always wait for darkness.

The receptionist at the hotel had assured me this road was a shortcut, and would take a good twenty-five minutes off my journey to the Glen and Bennochy cottage, where I'd chosen to spend Christmas and make a start to my next novel.It had been a rough winter so far in this part of the country, and at some point a plough had banked the snow alongside the road. It reached almost as high as the Jeep's windows. Frozen, rutted patches of mud plagued the narrow road too, and to top it off, the sun was quickly slipping from its privileged place. I'd been warned that day turned abruptly to night in these parts. Pulling myself together, I shot another glance into the rear-view mirror. Suddenly the Jeep hit a patch of ice and began to slither, and I clung to the steering wheel until it righted itself some five metres further on. To my left the rushing waters of the Ronald river coursed over rocky falls, as it wound its way by the side of an ancient forest. The gentle beauty I'd so admired during a short stay here in the summer seemed distant now in the harsh reality of winter, and I wished I'd never come."Get a grip, Julie," I said, and slipped a Christmas CD into the player. The clash of cymbals rang out setting my heart pounding until I realised it was only the vigorous finale to Handel's Messiah. Ten minutes passed, then gratefully I saw the turn-off for the cottage.Leaving the Jeep, I crunched over an unblemished carpet of snow up to the door and felt in my bag for the key that I'd picked up at the hotel. I reached out and inserted it in the lock, but at my touch the door swung open unaided, and I tasted my fears again. Stepping somewhat hesitantly inside, I glanced around, found the light-switch, and flicked it on. A shadow caught my eye in the long hall mirror, and I swung back not knowing what to expect, but only the weak, last white glimmer of day met my eyes.

Thankfully the heating had been turned on and the kitchen cupboard and the refrigerator well stocked. In fact, everything looked perfectly pleasing and normal inside the pretty house, and I decided the unlocked door was nothing more than the negligent act of a caretaker.

Once I'd unpacked, I made a cup of tea and carried it into the living room where the soft glow from the mock coals of the gas fire made the room look cosy and welcoming. A sharp rap rang out on the front door. I paused for a moment, still a little unsure of my safety, then with a shrug I went to see who it was.

No one was there. The Jeep sat parked as I'd left it, but nothing else was abroad. Timidly I called out, "Who's there?" A freezing wind whipped around the north end of the cottage and with it an incredibly unpleasant acrid smell that made me reel for a moment. Then thinking that some ravenous wolf might be prowling nearby, I quickly bolted and locked the door and hurried back to the warmth of the living room and sat down on the edge of the couch. What had made that noise? Some animal that had saw the light and come nosing about for food?

Reassured by this perfectly reasonable explanation, I went off to the kitchen to make an early dinner. But just as I was serving up spaghetti and meatballs it happened again. Only this time the knock came from upstairs.

I immediately thought of the unlatched door. Had the animal wandered in and become imprisoned when the door shut behind it? Was it upstairs right now? I scoffed at this notion, asking myself why, if this was the case, it had made no noise when I was unpacking?

Knock…knock. My mouth was dry from dread. I reached for the wine and took a gulp…not my usual way of savouring good wine, but I needed a little more Dutch courage before leaving the seeming safety of the kitchen and venturing upstairs.

A sturdy walking stick stood against the kitchen wall. I grasped it firmly and went out into the hallway, flicking on the upstairs light as I did. In a small, tight voice, I cried out, "Who's there?" I started inching my way upstairs, one hand holding the dark wooden railing, the other wielding the walking stick like a rapier.

I was almost on the landing now, and only steps from the door to my bedroom, so there was no mistaking what I heard. Something was panting beyond that door, and that repugnant acid smell was all around me. Convinced I was about to encounter a vicious wild animal, I was feverishly thinking of what I should do when the landing window blew open, smashing back against a tree limb and scaring me witless. I hurled the stick away and ran downstairs absolutely sure I was being pursued. I shot through the kitchen door, closed it with an almighty thud and stood with my back against it shaking, and expecting any moment to hear the beast scratching to get in. Almost fifteen terrifying minutes passed. My arms and shoulders ached with the strain of keeping all my weight pressed against it, but apart from the landing window constantly pounding, it was quiet now. With a sigh of relief I slid to the laminated floor. I had to do something about my situation, and sitting here wasn't an answer. I'd passed a ranger's station a few miles back. If I rang the hotel they could contact him to come out and capture the animal. The only stumbling block to this plan was getting to my mobile phone. I'd left it in the living room. Getting to my feet, I crossed over to a drawer and took out the biggest, sharpest knife I could lay my hands on, and holding it low, I inched the kitchen door open and looked out. Nothing sinister or abnormal met my eyes or ears, so I shuffled along the hall till I reached the living room and went in.The scene before me robbed me of breath. The curtains hung in ribbons at the windows, and I could plainly see the full, yellow moon hanging in the night sky, its beam lighting up the edge of the forest where the dark, naked limbs of the gnarled old trees appeared to be reaching up to salute it. A pile of books lay where they'd fallen from the shelves on either side of the fireplace; cushions oozing their stuffing littered the floor and couch. The walls were streaked with black mud and the pictures lay crooked. But worst of all was the pungent odour I'd come to fear.

How had this happened without me hearing something? I glanced quickly behind me then back to the room. My eyes raked through the clutteruntil I located my handbag lying midst a pile of the same black mud. I gripped the knife tighter and slipped further into the room, praying all the while that my cell phone was still safely where I'd left it. Grabbing my handbag out of the putrid pile of sludge, I slung the strap over my neck and stumbled out of the wrecked room, with the sludge dripping off my bag at every step. I wanted to scream. I had to get out of there!

"Damn! Damn! Damn!" My phone was dead. I could have sworn I charged it last night. I plugged it in anyway, hoping to get enough juice to dial out, but the ceiling light flickered twice and went out.

"Oh, no, not now!" I whispered tearfully, and groped over the kitchen countertops until I found the torch I'd noticed earlier. I pressed the switch and pointed the beam at the phone. Hopefully it was only the overhead lights that had fused and I'd still be able to make that call.

But luck wasn't with me. It was a total black out. What now? Staying in the cottage certainly wasn't an option. Something had made that ghastly mess next door, and though I hadn't heard any rapping or panting in almost an hour, I still felt hunted.

The keys for the Jeep lay clasped in my fist along with the knife. I wouldn't dare venture back into the living room for my leather coat, so I just had to hope the engine warmed up before I froze. I slung the reeking handbag over my shoulder and holding the torch I slunk from the kitchen and out into the night.

The perishing air made me cringe. My breath appeared as ectoplasm and I knew that if I didn't get to the Jeep quickly I'd be in trouble.

Thankfully I hadn't locked the door, and in seconds I was behind the wheel. Laying aside my bag, the torch and the knife I felt for the ignition, offering up a little prayer of thanks when the key found its mark and the engine roared into life. Grasping the wheel, I put the engine into gear, let the brake off and pressed down, only allowing myself to breathe normally when it moved forward away from the terror.

The clock on the dashboard read six thirty, and I guessed I could be back at Glen Ronald hotel in just over half an hour. Tomorrow I'd have someone retrieve my belongings, and I'd head for home. This thought cheered me. Christmas was only a week away, and after this experience I was more than ready for the festivities.

I drove quite slowly, taking great care not to fall foul of icy patches, especially now that the snow had begun to fall. The full moon illuminated the dark forest and softened the icy, tumbling waters of the river, and if I hadn't just spent the last few hours in a living hell, I might well have taken pleasure from the Glen's wintry beauty.

The swishing sound of the wiper blades and the growing warmth inside the Jeep were going a long way to comforting me when BANG! The impact shook me. I'd

hit something, but what? I braked too swiftly sending the Jeep slithering sideways. It came to a stop with the headlights

glaring directly into the forest and when I got my wind back I peered out the window back along the route I'd come. A few metres away I could make out what looked like a fallen branch.

Relieved that it wasn't an animal I opened the door, the frigid air catching my breath as I did. But the branch was a hazard; I had to try and move it to one side. Ducking my head against the swirling snow I plodded on. I reached down to grab the branch…

+++

I've never spoken of what happened next, and before I do, just for the record, until that awful night I was considered to be a responsible adult and a pretty good writer too. But it's been a while since I wrote anything meaningful, and as for being responsible…well, let me give you the facts and you can judge for yourself.

+++

There was no branch. Instead, my hands sunk into warm, stinking slime, and the smell rose to fill my nose, my mouth, and my eyes. I pulled my caked hands out of the loathsome mess and backed away, terrified beyond belief.

In the moonlight I watched it drip through my fingers…black, gooey, rotten mud. I looked at the dark mound. Had it moved? Mesmerised, I watched as the great black blob heaved in and out in a perfect rhythmic pattern. It was a living organism! I froze.

I'm told it was the ranger and a local who found me sitting in my Jeep. They could make no sense of what I was saying.

The hotel had called a doctor who sedated me, and when I woke some time the following afternoon, it was to the familiar, smiling face of my best friend.

But my story doesn't end here.

+++

That evening I had one more encounter with the old fisherman.

He appeared at my side in the bar while my friend was at the loo. He looked at me closely. I thought it odd that I hadn't noticed his wet, red-rimmed eyes at our first meeting, or how his words didn't quite fit the movement of his thin lips.

"I hear you had a lucky escape, lass." His hooded eyes bored into mine for too long, yet I couldn't tear mine away. He turned to go and that awful acrid smell of evil followed in his wake.

The End