The Chickcharney

The island of Andros Island was vast, its rainforests thick and untouched in places where no human dared to tread. Fishermen spoke of strange things among the pines, their voices hushed over glasses of rum in the flickering glow of oil lamps. Travelers swore they had seen something—something with luminous red eyes watching from the darkness.

Jabari Sinclair didn’t believe in folklore.

A researcher from Kingston, he had spent years studying the natural world, debunking myths and chasing legends only to find nothing but superstition. Now, his latest obsession had brought him to Andros Island, a place of untamed wilderness and whispered warnings.

The locals had tried to dissuade him.

“Do not disrespect the Chickcharney,” an old woman warned him at the market, her gnarled fingers wrapped around a bundle of herbs. “It is older than the trees, and hungrier than the sea.”

Jabari had smiled politely, chalking it up to island superstition.

Now, deep in the pine forests, he was alone. The air was thick with the scent of salt and wet earth, the buzzing of unseen insects filling the heavy night. His boots sank into the mud as he adjusted his backpack, scanning the twisted roots for any sign of movement.

That’s when he saw it.

A hollow in the trunk of a massive silk cotton tree, dark and gaping like an open mouth. Bones—small and brittle—were scattered at its base, tangled with beads and tattered cloth. Jabari’s pulse quickened. He raised his camera, adjusting the focus. If this was a sign of the Chickcharney’s lair, he would be the first to document it.

A rustling sound came from above.

Jabari slowly turned his head.

Perched on a low-hanging branch was a figure unlike anything he had ever seen.

It was small—frail even—its skin wrinkled and stretched tight over its bones. But its eyes…

Two enormous, glowing red orbs locked onto his own, unblinking, filled with something ancient and insatiable.

A wave of nausea washed over him. His limbs felt sluggish, his thoughts heavy.

The Chickcharney tilted its head, a grotesque, birdlike motion. Its cracked lips twisted into something almost like a grin. Then, it moved.

Faster than he thought possible, it dropped from the tree, scuttling across the foresty ground on all fours. Jabari stumbled back, breath hitching in his throat.

Snap.

A sharp pain tore through his leg.

Looking down, he saw a root curled around his ankle, tightening. No—not a root. A long, sinewy finger.

More rustling. More glowing eyes peering from the pines.

Jabari’s breath came in panicked gasps. He had made a terrible mistake.

The old woman’s words rang in his mind. Do not disrespect the Chickcharney.

He had trespassed. He had come uninvited.

And now, he would never leave.

The last thing he saw was the glint of teeth and the flicker of fire beneath the creature’s skin as it shed its husk.

Then, the forest fell silent once more.