Fiction · Writing


The gust almost knocks you to the ground. The path is on a steady climb. Your red eyes turn the forest into a blood nightmare. Closer to the peak the earth is becoming soft and weak. You reach the peak of the hill; the earth has a layer of fog thick as honey. A metal fence is surrounding this small, isolated part of the forest. The moon is full and considerable. There was nothing at the top of the hill except for a solid stone plaque, sticking out of the earth. Fog swirls around the plaque as a savior, praying to their god. When you take a step closer to the plaque, the fog separates, pardons so your boot only touches earth. A howl erupts from the forest, the howl of a powerful beast. The plaque was as tall as your arm, thick as your bicep. Words are inscribed onto the plaque but they are in a different language, a language you have never seen before. Symbol of a cowl is inscribed onto the plaque, a cowl a warrior might have worn to battle in an older time, a cowl any man would fear. The howl returns for a second time. The hair on your arms standing up reaching for the huntress. Sweat drops from your brow as you stare at the blood red color of your world. Somethings wrong. My love would not come here. Earth shakes in terror as the third howl burst. A fist explodes from below the earth and grabs onto your ankle. This being has no eyes, only a skull. The grip tightens and pulls you closer to the earth. Shaking free and escaping the grips of death, a second and third reach out from the earth and grab onto your legs sending you crashing into the earth. Death stares right into your red eyes. A fourth appears gripping onto your torso and pulls. Your body slowly is being pulled into the earth, into nothing. Your love appears in your mind, wondering if she is okay, wondering if she is thinking about you. Wishing you would have taken your love to all those events you hate so much. Grasping for oxygen as a fifth and sixth grab hold of your neck and arms pulling you deeper and deeper. I’m sorry.


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