I\u2019ve come to slay the beast. My scabbard feels light as it dances with my stride, exhilarated for what\u2019s to come. A wretched thing: that what is to come. Killing, I mean to say. Ahead, on the path, there\u2019s a thing that I\u2019ve come to end. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
Above, the stars bore into me with ferocity. I\u2019ve never been this close, I didn\u2019t know they could burn like that. The trees scream of age, the branches dead and sharp as though warding off those who would transgress. I will not camp here, once the deed is done so too will I be done with this place. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
My own weight begins to burden me, and I feel my warmth abandon me, leaching into the black. The woods surrender to an opening, the soil morphing to black crag. At the center lies a pit with perverse symmetry. My legs march forward, though unwillingly, and my insides twist at the sight of it, as though smelling rotting meat.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
My blade slips from my grasp, as my advance falters, and I lurch into a prayer before it. It\u2019s dark inside, as though every sun had had their light snuffed out. And then, the murk reaches into me, and by my very heart, I am wrenched inward.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The drift is long and cold. And then my limp figure strikes the bed. As my eyes adjust to the light, I look out. I see something that I cannot, should not.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I see my father and I, bickering about my service. \u201cYou shouldn\u2019t leave\u201d he sighs, defeated. And then he stares at me, and through me, and into me. Then, vicious light plays across my retinas. The room changes, I see my mother; “I’ll miss you sweetheart.” The same stare. Again the light. My sister, playing tag: \u201cI\u2019m gonna catch you!\u201d The same stare. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
The ground swallows me, and rips me back into the world. In a fetal position. I look forward. I see it. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
It: as tall as a house, a dozen legs, spots of fur, a barrel chest, and then the face. Its mouth has an overbite, sharp teeth but no gums, stretched into a grin. Its eyes are ripped from the firmament, as though infinity itself was bleeding. We stare at one another, it cocks its head, and speaks.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
In my father\u2019s voice: \u201cYou shouldn’t leave.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
In my mother\u2019s: \u201cI\u2019ll miss you sweetheart.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
My sister\u2019s: \u201cI\u2019m gonna catch you.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Maybe it’s god, maybe the other? I don\u2019t know. I feel weak, and alone, and afraid. So I turn, and I run. Through the trees, and into a clearing. I collapse, every breath a labor. It occurs to me that there is no wind, no crunch of snow, no stars in the sky, nothing but the dead trees.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I hear nothing.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Then, I hear running.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
I\u2019ve come to slay the beast. My scabbard feels light as it dances with my stride, exhilarated for what\u2019s to come. A wretched thing: that what is to come. Killing, I mean to say. Ahead, on the path, there\u2019s a thing that I\u2019ve come to end. Above, the stars bore into me with ferocity. I\u2019ve […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":515,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[294808,281492,14,253185,281388],"class_list":["post-1160","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized","tag-294808","tag-3rdplace","tag-creative-writing","tag-short-story","tag-spooktacularwritingcontest"],"acf":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/blogs.umflint.edu\/writingcenter\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1160","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/blogs.umflint.edu\/writingcenter\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/blogs.umflint.edu\/writingcenter\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.umflint.edu\/writingcenter\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/515"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.umflint.edu\/writingcenter\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=1160"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.umflint.edu\/writingcenter\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1160\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1163,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.umflint.edu\/writingcenter\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1160\/revisions\/1163"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/blogs.umflint.edu\/writingcenter\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=1160"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.umflint.edu\/writingcenter\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=1160"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.umflint.edu\/writingcenter\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=1160"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}