Gnoshles, for lack of a better name., A story. o.o; Options

[Anielka]

The yellow and black oriole was clinging firmly to the bark of the great oak tree as he scrutinized it for opportunities. So far, it seemed okay...but it always seemed okay. The oriole ruffled his feathers doubtfully as he recalled that it hardly ever was.

It was a very chilly morning. Most of the other birds had long since begun their journey across the land, seeking warmth. The oriole had had to stay behind because his mate was too bulging to lift herself into the air. Unaccustomed to the cold, the bird couple was having a pretty rocky time of it.

And yet, the oriole was feeling unusually confident this morning. He had already eaten three worms and a grasshopper the night before and had even managed to catch enough food to satisfy his tubby mate. He hopped a little ways up the trunk of the tree, inching ever closer to a small peephole, a deep crevice in the thick bark of the hollow oak.

As the oriole looked within, he could see nothing but absolute darkness. He scanned the interior of the tree, though his eyes were not accustomed to the blackness and nothing caught his beady eye. After a moment, the he popped his head back into the open air and chirped. Was this his lucky day? The giant oak tree was home to the most delicious bugs in the entire forest. Chirping excitedly the songbird, despite himself, found he could not resist pecking at the crisp bark–just a little. At first he was unsuccessful in rousing his breakfast, but soon to his delight something beneath the shell of the tree began to shift. He began to peck at a steady rate, his annoying thuds audible throughout the entire forest. The skitters and movement from within the tree grew louder and more drastic.

Dizzy with happiness, the oriole began to expand his range. Soon he had gone all around the tree and had arrived once again at the small hole in the bark. Ignorant of his rapid neck, the gleeful songbird plunged his beak into the dark fissure. Instantly, out of the hole was uttered a cry so terrible, so savage, so beastly...

“EEEEIORRGYAHIYUUUU!”

...That it rendered the poor oriole so frightened its little heart had no choice but to give out then and there. After a full-body shudder, the unfortunate songbird puffed up and stiffened, and it dropped to the wet grass, dead.

Clearly, it had not been okay.

After this terrible scene, the area around the tree was silent for several moments, save for the occasional cardinal chirping or cicada singing. Then from the wide roots of the oak an arm shot out and snatched the bird with catlike proficiency. From the direction of the end of the arm still within the dark tree, a growl was emitted. The dead bird was suddenly pulled in through the fateful hole of death. After some awful ripping and smacking sounds that disturbed the forests knowing, uncomfortable silence, a creature crawled out from a sizable gap between the roots and sniffed the air, yellow-black feathers sticking to his shaggy mane. This daunting character I will call Gnoshles.

Gnoshles yawned broadly, revealing an alarming set of razor-sharp teeth. As he did so, he stretched his weedy arms, an invaluable part of his human physique. Gnoshles had the torso and arms of a man–however, from his waist to his ankles his legs bore the appearance of a frowzy goat, beneath which stood a pair of unusually large feet resembling those of a reindeer. These matched accordingly to the short but sharp pair of antlers atop his furry head, which supported so much thick hair that all of his features, save his large yellow eyes–actually, one was more red, puffy and squinty–were obscured by the woolly mass.

After his morning exercises–the diligent activities which included yawning, stretching, scratching his rear, and today, belching–Gnoshles sluggishly set off into the forest. As he ambled along through the dewy grass, Gnoshles gradually perked up and his pace quickened. It was game time. What frolicsome prank would he pull today? As Gnoshles pondered this, he absentmindedly made a swerve in his direction, which had been towards nothing in particular, and was now heading straight for the riverbed.

Gnoshles returned to Earth when he felt something wet and gentle softly traveling over his somewhat deadened hooves. He looked down and was surprised to find that he was standing in the small river, slowly becoming very wet as the cool water washed over and around his ankles. Gnoshles sniffed. It was hard to become dry again once his fur was wet, and his ankles were particularly bushy. It would feel like he had two small boulders laced around his legs for at least an hour. Gnoshles was about to attack a nearby tree in irritation, save for two reasons. One, his ankles were far to heavy for him to lunge at anything, and two, he had spotted the makeshift fishing net, the one that he used to catch fish and crush bugs with, by a bed of cattails on the other side of the river. Gnoshles looked down at the water...no fish in sight. Perhaps because the water was so cold. Why was it so cold? The river could always be counted on to be cool and refreshing, never too warm and never icy. At least, Gnoshles had always thought. But that was not the case here. Gnoshles felt his feet were about to fall off...would they drag the burden of his burly ankles with them, he wondered?

After a moment of contemplation, Gnoshles once again became aware of his fishing net sitting by the cattails. It looked so lonely, so hungry for suffering. Gnoshles was, too. After a clambering leap across the freezing river, he clumsily thumped over to the cattails and picked up his net. He then set off into the forest once more to find the burls.

Burls were small, bear-like creatures that lived in trees and moved about like squirrels. Gnoshles took the greatest joy in torturing the defenseless creatures as they attempted to scramble away from him by squeakily hurrying up these trees. Gnoshles, who was an excellent climber, caught up with them quite easily, and when he did he would trap them in his net and swing them around and around until they threw up. Then he would grab them by the tail and hurl them into the sky. Sometimes they made it back, sometimes they didn’t. But Gnoshles preferred it when they survived. That way, if he ever came across one of the burls he had attempted to traumatize, he would have the pleasure of watching their eyes twitch as their scraggly tails moved back and forth in a jagged and rough motion. Gnoshles didn’t smile much, but this sight always brought him a small but boisterous giggle.

As Gnoshles entered a gloomy clearing in the wood, where the burls tended to dwell, he began to shout and beat the trees wildly with his net. Usually, this would frighten the critters out so that he could torment them. But today, not a single burl emerged from the leaves. Gnoshles peaked into the knotholes of some of the trees. There were no signs of life.

Confused, Gnoshles traveled to other parts of the forest inhabited by his favorite chase-able creatures. But no matter where he went, he could not find anyone or anything anywhere. After a long while of pacing back and forth between various places, Gnoshles was on the edge of insanity.

Cold and lonely, he hugged himself and began to make strange, calming noises, something like a gorilla cooing affectionately at her child. He did this for some time as he kept walking, and after a while he was so absorbed he quite forgot where he was. It had been several miles down this loony lane when Gnoshles suddenly noticed the trees looked different. Instead of being brown and rigged, these trees were pale and smooth. Upon inspection, Gnoshles found the bark came off very easily. Panicking, the poor creature wondered how he could ever get home. He began to run desperately in circles until he tripped over a twig and landed with a “oomph” in something both soft and rough at the same time. But more importantly, it was warm. Exhausted from his journey and the terror that had fueled it, Gnoshles–what a bewildering animal–began to doze off, and quickly fell asleep in his cozy nest behind the sunset.

Yeah, this is sort of old, too, but I have writers block so I kinda went back to it. Sorry it's so long!

[Anielka]

Hah, really? Thanks a lot!