Story Revision: A Shuffle in the Night

In the distance, he hears laughter. He ponders, who would be laughing out here? The sun is setting on the path, an unofficial path made from many trips to the same destination. The laughter is closer now, and he looks up, oh - it's just a crow. There are not normally crows on this path.

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It is a two day trip, and it's getting too dark to see anymore. The forest is less comforting tonight, he feels that he is being watched and builds a fire a little dimmer than usual in the small cove of the forest, just mere feet from the path.

***

Not much time had passed when he awoke to hear the shuffling of feet. Who even knows this path is here? Through his blanket and past the snuffed fire, he sees, thinking, an old woman?, dragging a large bag. He could lay still, hide beneath his covers - but she would see him in passing. Rather than wait to be found he decides to approach her - but not without finding out as much as he can beforehand.

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She is in rags, a mix of hides and fur, and upon further observation, carrying a knife still wet with blood. 

This discovery sends the hair on his neck straight up. But what else can he do? Beyond the path, the forest is too dense to travel through... and besides, she is getting closer.

Any attempt now to leave would be clearly heard by her. Thinking fast, he jumps on to the path to create an illusion of control. What are you doing here?After several moments, his question is responded to - but the woman still does not show her face. My child is in this bag, he has succumbed. 

He is stricken, frozen, unable to respond. Is she telling the truth? Does he even want to know? Eyes never leaving the knife, he says I... am sorry... Can I help you? More silence passes in a time that feel like an eternity. He realizes that since he stepped on the path that his adrenaline hasn't allowed him to notice the foul smell present, the bag? he wonders - but suddenly she attacks him.

She lunges with the knife and as he falls the hood comes off, this is no woman but the shredded remains of what once was. She has only one eye, the other an exposed socket and no nose, her lips are gone and only show bloodied teeth. Shreds of the skin left flail during the assault, he takes her arm holding the knife right as it is about to be plunged into his chest but her arm comes off. He wrenches the knife from her somehow still grasping hand and cuts off her head, or what was left of it.

The air is still. The only noise is his heavy breathing. He stares at the few stars he can see past the trees. After several moments, he stands. Legs wavering, he manages to walk to the bag and cut it open - finding something that makes bile rise in his throat. A child, a boy, but with flesh ripped from his body. Bites taken out of his limbs. He is not the one who was rotting, he was not the source of the smell. He has been too recently killed.

*** 

He ran the rest of the trip home without stopping. He couldn't rest, it didn't feel safe. Home, home was safe - so he ran.

He sees the the familiar opening to his village, they will know what to do he thinks. In the distance, he sees the backs of his mother and brother. Relief floods him as he finds comfort in their presence, until the wind brings a smell to his nose that runs his blood cold. Before they turn, he already knows what awaits him. His hands clench the knife.

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No! His mother turns, but only half of her face returns with her as the other half is exposed bone. He did not notice before, but his brother is missing an arm. Yet, the lack of a limb does not slow him down as he runs. Running toward me. They're going to kill me!

He turns to run from his family, only to come face to face with the boy from the bag; very undead, and very much blocking the only easy means of escape.

Author's Note

I started by writing the story in the same fashion, changing the bird and sound the protagonist thought he heard. My intent was to write the same story, but instead of hiding and lying he would approach and tell the truth. After I reached the approach part, the story changed with the antagonist being one person and a combination of the two. I also removed the conversation and went straight for the attack.  I really couldn't think of a way to bring a second character or extend the protagonist's stay for another night on the path - so I made the encounter darker so he would be encouraged to leave. While writing, I changed and added more details - keeping the knife - but adding the smell and bringing the son the woman was screaming about in the original story into this one. There was going to be a moral in this story, but in the end it just turned into the beginning of a zombie apocalypse.

Bibliography. "Supernatural: A Teton Ghost Story" from the Teton Lakota tribe. Myths and Legends of the Great Plains by Katharine Berry Judson (1913). Source.

On a lighter note - here is a picture I took of my dog. She was protesting me doing schoolwork by laying awkwardly across my legs, until she forgot about the protest and fell asleep.

Author's Note 2.0 

I chose this story to revise because it was my first and because it had the most critical comments. Although I liked the color coding I had in the original story, I've changed my theme since then so I made all the text black. I extended the ending since a few people mentioned it wasn't clear that this was a zombie apocalypse; however, I kept the ending more or less vague in the regards to the protagonist's survival. I also used shortening methods I learned for my project to cut out some extra fluff/unnecessary wording.