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.

Week 11 Story: You can't run, You can't hide.

Thump Thump Thump. 

It's a windy day. The shutters keep slamming on the windows.

Thump Thump Thump. 

It really is hard to concentrate with that banging. And now, suddenly rain? Or is that hail? 

THUMP THUMP THUMP. 

Jeez! Knock much? Who could possibly be at the door in the rain. I'll just look through the peephole. Hmm... I can't see much but his face through the peephole. Which is... creepy. When was the last time this guy got a hair cut? I think I'll keep the door shut. 

"Hello?"

"Yes, sorry to bother you but I'm looking for someone. His name is Judas."

"I'm sorry but I don't know anyone by that name."

"He betrayed my friend Chris."

"Well I am sorry for your friend but as I said, I don't know anyone by that name. Please leave now."

THUMP. 

he jumps back.

I better triple lock this door. Chain should be good on top of the deadbolt and handle lock. 

windy day, doing chores around the house. 

he puts the chain on the door, looking through the peephole again. 

Oh thank goodness, hes gone. 

Thump Thump Thump. 

Still, with the shutters? I need to close them, the forecast didn't call for damaging winds but apparently they're wrong. 

he walks to the window, and before he gets there he hears,

Tap Tap Tap 

he freezes where he stands.

What... Whats going on...

he peers around the corner, and then runs to the kitchen. 

"911? Yes there is a man standing outside my window. He's in a trench coat, tall, I didn't see much other than he's bald."

he peeks over the counter.

"He isn't there anymore, but I would really love it if you could send over a cop."

Ding-Dong

"Oh, wow that was fast thank you so much."

he opens the door to a man with short blonde hair. 

"Officer? Are you... are you an officer? Because... wait, why are you wearing a trench coat?"

he tries to shut the door, but the man breaks it off the hinges. 

"What are you!"

It's not one man, but all three he has seen - one man with three faces. 

"Get away from me!"

he turns to run, and falls into an abyss. suddenly he slams onto the floor. 

Where the hell am I?

"Hello, Brutus."

Oh no, its that terrible three faced man from before. 

"Please, just let me go"

"I can't do that. You see, you and your friend Cassius did a very bad thing. Now you get to wait here, while I go fetch him, and you'll both get to meet Judas"

"Okay, and then what?"

"And then your eternal damnation begins"

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Authors Note: 

I took this story from Dante's inferno and just ran with what came to mind. I thought to introduce the devil with wind, as in the story the devil is causing unnatural winds that Dante feels before he meets the devil. The devil is also waist deep in ice when Dante does see him, so I added hail/rain with his official appearance. The devil has three faces, so I decided to use that and trick the character into thinking he was seeing three separate people. The sounds were just ideas that I thought of when I think of past scary movies, and I ended it basically as a prequel to what Dante will eventually witness - the devil torturing all of them with his three different heads. 

Week 9 Story: A Hotel in the Woods

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The man has been traveling for some time and has run out of food. He's walking through a dense forest, when suddenly "Thank goodness, something to eat!" he proclaims as he starts ripping mushrooms out of the ground.

The sun sets, it becomes very dark and cold. "Those mushrooms weren't enough, I need more food." He walks around with his eyes toward the ground, looking something else to consume. So concentrated on the ground, he bumps into a sign hanging above that reads "Welcome to the Cortez Hotel".

"That's weird. It seems too far from the main roads for an inn, but maybe they have food inside". He walks through the main door into a lobby where the lights are flickering. The lobby is empty, so he rings the bell for service.

"What?" speaks a woman suddenly behind him. The man says, "I need somewhere to stay, and I am terribly hungry". The woman looks at him with an unfazed expression, gazing at him with the coldest blue eye's he's ever seen. She smells likes smoke. "I have no food to spare as I am preparing for soldiers who booked the night here, but we do have one room left." She hands him the key, and he stares down at it. It is very cold in his hand. He looks up to find the woman is gone. The key has a tag with the number 64.

The silence from the hotel is deafening. He can hear himself breathing very loudly and he is sweating despite it being freezing. He lays down on the small cot in the tiny room numbered 64. Slowly, he falls asleep.

***

The man is woken by laughter. Peeping through his door, he sees the soldiers the woman was speaking of. In the lobby they have assembled a buffet with lots of hot food and beer. His stomach growls and his mouth waters. Right before he decides if he will wander out and try to steal some food, the doors to the lobby slam open. "Hey, there he is!" The cries of joy from the soldiers and the metals on this other man's chest indicate he's their leader. "Celebrate tonight, for we have won this battle. I am going to bed early. I suggest you all get a good nights rest, for this war is not over yet." The man closes the door to his little room quickly, as he realizes the soldier's leader is in the room next to his.

Curious still, he then looks through a crack in the wall. The general calls in his assistant to the room "I would like to be put to rest now" says the general and removes his head.

The man jumps back from the wall "what in the world is going on, what horrible people inhabit this hotel?" He opens his door again to find all the soldiers gone. The tables are turned over, and there is red liquid on the floor. "I didn't see them drinking wine" he thinks. Back through the crack, he watches terrified as the assistant begins removing the generals limbs one by one until he is in pieces. "I have to get out of here" the man thinks.

He cracks open his door, and sees all of the soldiers again - but slaughtered and scattered across the lobby, dismembered and disemboweled. Not wanting to walk through the room of corpses, he locks the door and breaks the window. As he teeters on the window's ledge, he hesitates because he can't see the ground. "Where is the ground? I was on the first floor!" Behind him, he hears the door creak open.

Twisting, he finds blue eyes staring down at him. The woman who gave him the key to his room standing inches from his face. She reeks of the smoke smell that only lingered before. "I wont tell anyone! Please! Let me go!" she shouts. Suddenly, she shoves him out the window.

The man is falling, flailing rapidly trying to grasp on to anything for support. He can't see anything as he's falling except the light of the window getting smaller and smaller as he falls. The man hits the ground with a thud, knocking him unconscious.

***

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Birds are chirping and sunlight streams through his eyelids. He opens them slowly to realize he is laying on his back, staring up at trees in a dense forest, surrounded by mushrooms. He sits up, and notices a sign that reads "We honor the men who died on this ground, where the massacre of the 64th division was committed".  He stands and runs to the main road, going to another hotel - this one he is familiar with.

"What happened in those woods? What's the 64th division?" he asks the clerk. The clerk replies "There used to be a hotel in those woods that catered to soldiers during WWI, it was off the main road to give some privacy. The 64th division was a band of soldiers who went there to rest after winning a particularly gruesome battle, but they ate the mushrooms growing around the property and went mad. They thought the enemy was attacking again, and slaughtered each other after killing their general."
"They killed their own general?" said the man. "Yes," replied the clerk, "they cut off his head, and his arms and legs before turning on each-other. Rather than admit their soldiers went crazy and killed everyone, the government sent people to burn down the hotel and claimed it was a massacre committed by the enemy. Legend says they set fire to it when there was still a civilian inside, some poor woman working the front desk who survived the soldier's attack. I guess they didn't want any witnesses."

"God, that's horrible. But, those mushrooms out there, they make you go crazy?"

"Yeah, but that's not the worst part. You sober up for a while after, only to have your heart stop and die."

Authors Note:

Here is the original story. I really liked the idea of ghosts on an old graveyard, and my story starts the same as the original but he is so hungry he eats mushrooms on the ground - he sees the ghosts, but it's because he ate the same mushrooms the soldiers did that killed them. Instead of seeing a light, he runs into the hotel sign. The general's assistant is still seen taking him apart, and I reason that he came apart not really by an assistant but by his own soldiers who went mad from the mushrooms. This time, the man leaves the hotel instead of staying the night. I added the lobby character and made the hotel name the same name as the hotel in the TV show American Horror Story - where half the residents are ghosts who died there. The room 64 is where a bunch of crazy stuff happens. The falling scene was one that I took from the movie, Get Out, where the main character is in hypnoses and falls through a tv screen only to be falling farther and farther seeing the screen shrink in "the Sunken Place". The man goes to a near by hotel (just like in the original story, I wonder why he didn't just go there in the first place), but I gave the place he was in a slightly new background with a government cover up and a twist ending for the main character - indicating he is about to die.

Week 7 Story: Careful Wording

“Why am I so ugly?” the princess asked her self. She was wealthy and smart, but ugly as sin. One day she became so upset by her appearance that she broke her mirror and stormed out the house. She walked the woods much farther than she had ever ventured before and came upon a witch.

“Oh enchantress, can you help make me beautiful? Will you replace my terrible looks with something better?”

The princess knew the risk of asking a witch for help, but she was willing to take any chance to become something pretty.

“I can give you a new face, a new head, to crown your body with that shall match the crown you already wear”.

Her crown was quite a site to see, and she was so delighted she immediately asked for the witch to change her.

“Here, drink this and your head shall match your crown.” Without a second thought the girl downed the whole bottle, and suddenly - everything went black! She could not speak, she could not see, she could not hear a thing! Frantic she started panicking until suddenly felt a weight on her neck.

“There - a head as beautiful as your crown.” The witch gave the girl a mirror - and it was true! Her skin was smooth, her teeth were straight, her hair shined.

“Oh thank you so much!” The princess started to turn, but as she did the witch laughed.

“You vain idiot, you forgot the glue!”

The princess was confused, “what glue?” she asked.

“Why, to keep your new head on of course. Your crown is beautiful but it is not apart of you, just like this head is beautiful but not apart of you. And as you must shine a crown every day to keep it pristine, you must take off and clean your head every day - otherwise it will become infected and explode.”

The princess was appalled and angry by the witches actions. “I asked to be beautiful, and you have cursed me!”

“You asked for me to replace your terrible looks with something better, I have done exactly that!” said the witch - and to it the princess replied with a knife. She lunged at the witch and stabbed her to death.

As she died, the witch's body glowed a sickly green. The light that surrounded her rose into the air. The princess was so struck by the sudden oddity she couldn’t do anything but stare. As she gazed, the light suddenly plunged into her heart. Now the princess was not just cursed, but also a witch.

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Authors Note:

When I read the original Russian story it was about a headless princess who was also a witch. A young boy passed by her window and saw her washing her head, and when she died she basically haunted him as revenge when he told everyone what he saw. The Russian stories always leave me with questions as they’re wild and all over the place. This one made me want to write a story about how a princess would end up as a witch with a removable head.

Week 6 Story: What You Give is What You Get

There once was a girl named Coral so beautiful that all the men in the land wished to take her hand in marriage. The king was distraught, as he felt no man was good enough for her; however, there were three brothers who were the son of a rival kingdom that wished to wed her. Seeking to form an alliance and to make peace, he allowed his daughter to pick one of them.

The girl was as kind as she was pretty, so she was herself distraught by the choice; she did not wish to hurt two of the three men's feelings, so she delayed the decision spending time with each of them. One brother was a priest, the other a smith, and the third a gardener. The men all loved talking with her, they took any chance they could to boast about why they would make the best husband.

But the decision would never be made, as one day she became ill and died.

All three men were grief stricken, they had spent so much time courting her they had not thought of the possibility of none of them getting her.

The priest was so struck with sadness he lost all faith and revoked his dedication to God. The smith was so depressed sailed out alone to sea. The gardener was so miserable he surrounded his house in rose thorns so no one would try to visit him.

One day at sea, the smith heard of a spell that could bring the dead back to life. Finding this prospect of having the chance at wedding that beautiful girl again he rushed back home to tell his brothers. He needed the priest to perform the ritual and he needed the gardener to collect the herbs for it.

They set about performing the ritual, and as they gathered around her grave they bickered on what would happen once she was back.

"Well obviously I should have her, as I am the one able to perform this ceremony." said the priest

"You may perform it, but I supply it with the needed ingredients. I should be her husband." said the gardener.

"None of this would be possible if I had not found the ritual. I am the one she should be with." said the smith.

They argued throughout the entire ceremony, and their selfish, vain bickering turned the herbs sour. The earth quaked, the sky darkened, and from her grave she rose; Coral came back to life, but she was a beautiful girl no more.

"Oh all that is holy, what menace is upon is!" said the priest

Coral was now a hideous shell of her former self. Her hair, before beautiful golden locks, now was slimy dreads filled with electric charge and pulsating leafs. Her skin, once a white porcelain canvas, now a rocky field of craters and protruding rocks of purples, yellows, reds, and many other unnatural colors.

The men were so horrified, they immediately threw her off of the nearest cliff they could find. She didn't even have time to comprehend what had happened in the time she rose to the time they rejected her so heinously.

The smith went back to the person from whom he received the spell, and asked why Coral was brought back so terrible looking.

"You had the ingredients, and you had a holy - or once holy man - to perform the spell. But what you did not have was genuine love for who you wished to return to the land of the living. Your shallow affection brought her back, but brought her back only as you deserved - hideous and untouchable."

The brothers' bad karma was not over yet, as the king had found out what they had done. 

"You disrupted my daughter's eternal resting place and may have dammed her soul from heavenly grounds. There is no alliance to be had with a king who raised you three!" The king waged war, decimating the opposing kingdom and banishing the sons to live lives of nomads.

While Coral was brought back from the dead as a multicolored monster, some beauty came from her sad story. As her body fell into the water from the cliff she had been cast from, she melted into the waters and became home to millions of others who appreciated all she had to offer. She became a new kind of beauty, she became the coral reef.

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Authors Note:

I was really inspired to write this story after reading the original, so I decided to write a story instead of doing the story-lab this week.

I took some of the things the men did and turned it into their jobs in this story. One man became a monk after the girl died, so I made him a priest. Another dipped her bones into the sea, so the only thing I could think of was a smith (someone who dips hot weapons into water) and made him the one travel to travel and find the spell to bring her back. The last I made a gardener, as he was the one to build a hut and sleep on her ashes. In the original story it was all focused on how pretty she was, so I made the point that the men had no real love for her, only her appearance; and in the end, none of them got her. I didn't want to end it as a happy-ever-after story, but I didn't want her to end up as just a prospect for some other guy to marry. So I gave her a sad spin, coming back hideous instead of pretty and her name in the original story gave me an idea to make this a creation story of how the coral reef was made. From that I was also inspired by Medusa's story, she was so hideous her gaze even turned sand to stone (or a coral reef, in the greek creation story).

Week 5 Story: The Crocodile's Side

It was nothing before, I do not remember where I came from and that I am only here now, looking up at this man. He is angry, he is sad. I want to help make his heart whole again. I need to help make him smile again. 

"Bring me the youth who has defiled my wife". He shows me a painting on the wall of the woman who has been tainted. 

Having a task to do for him, I eagerly dive into the water. I dive deep, and swim until I see something odd. Four wildly moving sticks, or maybe a plant of some kind, penetrate the surface and into these waters. I swim closer, but not close enough that the sun can reflect off of me. As I close the distance, I see the woman from the painting and realize these are not sticks or plants but the legs of two people. One is his wife, so the other must be the youth. With a speed I did not know I had, I strike the youth's legs and drag him to the depths. How I should make him suffer, for the suffering of my master must have revenge - but he did not say to harm him, only to bring him. So bring him I shall. 

Out of the water I crawl, and spit out this vermin to my king. He is glad to see I have accomplished what he asked, but the smile dose not reach his eyes. I am tasked with taking the youth back into the water, somewhere so deep no one will ever find him again. He bids me farewell, and commands me live a life like a natural creature would when I am done. 

After abandoning the youth in a deep cave under the water, I swim back towards the surface. I hope to see the man again, I hope him knowing that youth is forever gone will bring him peace. I break the surface just enough so that my eyes can see, as I see other creatures like me do. Off in the distance, I see a crowd and the man. They tie the wife to a pole, I assume so that no other youths will touch her again. My assumption is almost right, as no youth or anyone can touch her now that she is on fire. I cannot understand why he would do such harm to this woman, since he asked me to do so much harm to the man who courted her. If he loved her so much to hate this man enough to banish the youth to an abyss, why banish her in flames? 

I watch until the crowd disperses, leaving only the man on his knees looking up at the flames. It is very quiet now, and he is more melancholy than when we first met. He stays at the fire, until the fire is no more, and the woman is no more. In his despair, he turns to look across the water and sees me. He approaches the distance, I am so thrilled at the idea of another task that might make him happy. 

"I know no feelings other than heartache, as revenge has not snuffed out the fire in my heart like the flames that have snuffed out that harlot's existence. Do me one last task, and take me to the bottom of the lake". 

As his wish is my command, and as I only hope this will ease his pain, I do as he wishes. It takes me several moments to reach the bottom of the lake, and upon my last look at this man, he seems to have found peace in these deep waters. 

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Author's Note

I wrote this story from the crocodiles point of view. I have pretty strong feelings about cheating, but I don't agree with what the husband did so to avoid being biased I wrote the point of view from the crocodile. I wrote an extended ending of the original story, to illustrate that for most situations revenge does not fix what was broken. In the story I gave the crocodile a duckling like attachment to the scribe - he is the person who brought him to life and the first person he saw so this is my reasoning for him doing whatever he commands. He also is so new to the world, I decided to make him a little naive so he doesn't understand death, only understanding emotion and having some what of an object permanence issue (the wife is there and then the wife is gone to him - banished, not killed). I decided that if the man was so enraged by the affair to kill both the youth and his wife, it isn't such a crazy notion that he might kill himself once the dust settles. Original story. 

Week 3 Story: Empathy Meets Narcissism

My mother always told me, that I am not great unless I do great things, and that I cannot do great things if I do not see and appriciate the great things others do. Though she never told me the prophecy that urged her to always remind me this, I always wonder what that prophet said.

***

It is a sunny day, here in the forest. I have many dates planned, there are so many wonderful women who find an interest in me that I cannot decide on just one. Their interest is a wonder to me in itself, as I am just one man; but, any relationship whether platonic or more is a relationship to have as all people have something to offer. However, since so many of these beautiful women women like my appearance - maybe I am more than just one man? Maybe, I have something to offer with my looks alone?

His thoughts are interrupted. As he passes a pond, he notices something strange.
What is this? 

He attempts to wave at the person in the pond, but the person does not respond as they stare in adoration.

It is just a pond, but if it is just that, how can someone be on the other side? 

He ponders, as this person touches the surface, making the water ripple. The person looks as if it is trying to embrace the surface, even try to kiss it.

It is as if he doesn’t know I am here, and yet there is something so familiar about this stranger in this weird pond… And it is not that it is a stranger, it is me! This must be evil magic of some kind. 

He runs away, frightened by the realization.

***

At home, he confronts his mother. 

Mother: Empathus, what is wrong? You look so distressed?

Empathus: I was in the forest, and upon looking in a pond I saw myself in another world!

Mother: I was afraid one day something like this would happen, please, sit down.

Empathus takes a seat.

Mother: Many years ago, when you were born, a prophet told me that you would do many great things in life and live a long wholesome life - but only if you did not discover yourself.

Empathus: what could that even mean?

Mother: I am afraid it is this occurrence is what was foretold.

Empathus: So it is simple, I will never enter that forest again.

Mother: No! Those who seek to change their fates always meet them tenfold. Remember Uranus? Remember Cronus? They tried to stop the inevitable! Had they allowed events to unfold naturally, maybe they would have survived their prophecies.

Empathus: Then what am I to do?

Mother: There is nothing more you can do, but discover yourself. See what this portal shows you, and learn from it.

***

Back in the forest, Empathus finds the pond once more.
Alright, Inevitable, what have you to reveal. 

Within the pond, he can now hear himself speak in the otherworld. He hears himself speak of adoration for his own face, yet act in anger and melancholy that he cannot be with the one person worthy of his affection - himself. His once young reflection starts to fade, becoming old and grey. Starved and dying, he disintegrates into nothing, alone.

This, this cannot be my fate. My face is not my worth, nor is anyone’s face. Life means more than a face. My life, my worth, is deeper than my flesh, and I cannot prove my worth beneath my flesh without virtuous action. This was the lesson to be taught, that I must know true till the end of my days. 

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Author’s Note:

The idea came to me to make Narcissus the opposite of himself, as humble person who values others more than himself as his mother raised him to be, as she feared the prophecy. Instead of narrating it just from that perspective alone, I chose to tell a story from the other side of his reflection - sort of like a one way glass that is a portal into a parallel but opposite universe; he is humble, and instead of falling in love with his reflection he sees what he could be if he had discovered himself as the prophecy had claimed. Though his mother did her best to raise him right, by not revealing the prophecy she didn’t give him all the knowledge to handle his “fate” the best way he could. Many greek stories have characters try to avoid “fate” and things are much worse. Like Uranus and Cronus, if they had just accepted that their sons would become rulers in their place one day maybe they wouldn't have been castrated or imprisoned. I decided to have Empathus be a humble person, but that he would still grow up to be a narcissist if he did not see the consequences to understanding beauty is only skin deep (having many girls ask him out started to have an effect on how he viewed himself). I decided to name him Empathus because empathy is more or less the opposite of narcissism. In this story, unlike greek mythology, fate and prophecies are not so much a guarantee but a warning of what will occur if actions are not corrected.

The original story can be found here.

Week 2 Story: 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 he has made from the numerous trips taken on the same route, 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 would be walking here, 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, on this path, in the middle of the night? After several moments, his question is responded too - 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, and does he want to know, if not, what is the truth? Eyes never leaving the knife, he says I... am sorry... Can I do anything to help? More silence, more awkward moments that feel like eternity. He realizes that in all this time 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 was once a person. 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 and 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 suddenly still, the only noise is his heavy breath. He stares at the few stars he can see past the tree. After several moments, he stands. Legs wavering, he manages to walk to the bag and cut it open - what he finds, 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 is exhausted, having run for the rest of the trip home with no stopping. How can he rest, or ever feel safe again on that path. He sees the clearing, the familiar opening to his village they will know what to make of what happened 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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