by A. J. Vrana
Every time Miya excavated this memory, she imagined locking eyes with the wolf. She didn’t remember the colour of the animal’s coat, but those eyes remained clear in her mind—large, curious, and full of life. Seconds later her name was called, the sound of it lashing through the air and striking her from her fixation. By the time she looked back, the wolf was gone.
Miya never told anyone what she'd seen that day. How could she in a town where people were frightened of a myth?
The Dreamwalker and her wolf.
Every child had heard the story a thousand times, and like some rite of passage into adulthood, they were constantly reminded of how important it was to the town’s history and culture. People in Black Hollow believed in fairy tales. And while Miya loved the idea of fables hidden beneath the veil of the mundane, she’d yet to unearth anything truly spellbinding. After all, the wolf didn’t spirit her away into the Dreamwalker’s arms.
Still, she kept returning to the playground, hoping to see the wolf someday. It was her sanctuary from everything she didn’t want to face. Maybe it was childish, but Miya lamented that reality wasn’t a fairy tale she could rewrite with the power of her imagination. Reality wasn’t timeless or enchanting; it was finite and perilous.
There was no forever-after in Black Hollow or anywhere else. Eventually, Miya would have to rip herself free from this inertia and moving away seemed a seductive option. What did she have to lose? She could go to a new city, shed all self-imposed expectations and start over. Eventually, she’d make enough to pay back her family. All she’d leave behind would be a good friend and a sea of false hope.
Miya’s bones pulsed with excitement; she could finally get a clean start. Tomorrow, she’d pull a blindfold over her eyes and drop a pin on the map. Wherever gravity wedged it, she’d make her new home.
The moon hung low in the clear night sky, and several stars glimmered over the pitch-black field. Sitting on the swing, Miya clutched the chains on either side of her and bent over backwards until her hair touched the sand. As she stared off into the meadow, she saw shadows shapeshifting like those on her wall. But one of them wasn’t wavering like the others. It was solid, a figure she couldn’t quite make out. Rather than waxing and waning, it slowly but surely moved closer. Miya realized the shape belonged to a person—a man tall enough to be intimidating in the dead of night.
She thought back to Elle, left with no memory of what happened, and stories of other girls who’d come before her.
Maybe it wasn’t a spirit.
Maybe it was a person.
Miya sat up and gathered her things. As she threw on her shoulder bag, the man paused as though he’d caught sight of her. They both froze, like two animals meeting by chance in territory they’d each claimed. The hairs on the back of Miya’s neck stood on end, and before the man could take another step, the headline of her memento came back to her.
Another missing girl found at Old Market Playground.
Miya bolted through the field, leaving her memories behind her.
2
KAI
He didn’t know where he was, or how he’d gotten there. He only knew that it was a hot summer night and that every breathing fibre was searing with hellish pain.
It was the same dance every time, and it always ended like this: with a kick to the nuts. An angry snarl rose in his throat as he clutched the dirt between his fingers, rolled over, and pressed his back against the ground to rub his burning skin into the soil. That’s right, it was August—the worst month of the damn year. Scorching hot surfaces, screaming children on summer vacay, smog, heatstroke, and everything that belonged in hell. August was a bitch even the devil wouldn’t want to fuck.
His fingers clawed deeper until the ground turned cool. Grabbing a fistful in each hand, he smeared the dark soil over his face, desperate to make the itching stop. His scalp was crawling under the thick, dishevelled mess of black hair. He could smell blood under his fingernails, so he picked out the tiny clots while waiting for his vision to adjust. These eyes saw colour. The psychedelic effect of reds, blues, and greens bleeding into the world took a few moments to stop. Above him were shapes swaying through the air, and behind them loomed a dark expanse he assumed was the sky. Long, thin wisps slowly came into focus: willow tree branches.
Kai took a deep breath as the familiarity of this place flooded him. He’d woken up under the giant willow many times before, but he could never find it when he wanted to. Instead, it always found him.
Under the earthy scent of bark and dirt, he detected the faint undertone of death hanging in the air, tugging his eyes towards the unmoving heap several feet away. It was a woman—a dead one to be sure—her eyes wide and her blue lips parted in an expression that was both vacant and surprised. A thin, gold chain encircled her bruised neck, its imprint etched in her flesh.
Kai tried to remember where he’d last been, but nothing came back to him. It wasn’t the first or even the second time he’d woken up to a dead body, but it remained an unwelcome surprise. Either way, Kai was pretty sure he hadn’t done it. Strangulation wasn’t his style, and there wasn’t any blood.
Regardless, he had no intention of hanging out with a corpse. His clothes and what little money he'd had were lost, and now he had two choices: ravage the donation bin outside the local second-hand store or beat someone up and rob them.
Pulling himself up, he cracked his neck and rolled his shoulders, then dragged his feet, one in front of the other. Gradually, he picked up his pace, grateful that it was at least after dark.
Once out of the forest, he heard the swings from the playground—and they sure as hell weren’t swaying from the wind. Some weirdo was there, staring at the moon. Normally, Kai would have skipped around them, but it was difficult to go unseen in an open field. He really wasn’t in the mood for crawling, so he kept on his path without much concern. It was likely some dumb teenager. They’d be scared off soon enough.
The swinging came to a stop, and the person—a girl, he discovered—fixed her gaze on him. Her posture was rigid, and no sooner had he sensed her unease than she was dashing away like a frightened rabbit. Kai shrugged and continued on his way. He hadn’t seen her face, and he was sure she hadn’t seen his, either.
Only one road led into the downtown core of Black Hollow, but Kai knew the woods better than he knew the lines of his own face, and that opened up other options. Once he settled into his body, jumping wired fences and stalking through private property wasn’t even light exercise. The streets were empty, with only the occasional passing car warranting some evasion. For the most part, there wasn’t much to be wary of.
As Kai approached a local sports bar, the smell of alcohol, marijuana, and cigarette smoke hit him in a nauseating wave.
Prey would be near.
Up ahead, several men were gathered around a pickup truck under a flickering neon sign, laughing loudly and taking swigs of beer. A faint orange glow emanated from the bar’s greasy windows, and dark shapes danced across the pavement around the truck—distorted by the murky tapestry of thick, cracked glass. The light passed briefly over the men's faces as people walked by inside, illuminating their features just long enough for Kai to discern which of them was the most intoxicated. He watched from the shadows as one split off from the herd and headed into an adjacent alleyway.
Slipping around the parked cars, Kai sneaked after the man into the narrow passage. It was darker there, well out of the shine of fluorescent lights. His target was standing by a garbage dumpster with his legs apart, rocking back and forth while holding his pecker in both hands. The scent of urine mingling with rotting trash wafted through the air. Kai wrinkled his nose in disgust. Couldn’t this asshole take a leak on something that didn’t already stink?
Soundlessly strolling up to the stranger, Kai reached out and tapped him on the shoulder. The man whirled around, yelping in surprise.
“What the hell?” he hollered, stumbling back as he looked Kai’s naked form up and down.
<
br /> Kai grumbled and pointed at the man’s jeans. “I need those.” He took stock of the buffoon, still holding his dick for dear life. “Try not to soil them,” he added dryly, taking a step forward.
He grabbed the man by the throat and lifted him off the ground in one smooth motion, feet dangling. Slamming him into the wall, Kai heard a hefty thwack as the man’s head hit the bricks, his brain rattling around inside his skull before shutting off. Kai released the dead weight—who was lucky to have a pulse—and watched him crumple to the ground with a thump. Crouching down, he checked every pocket, disappointed when all he found was a measly twenty-dollar bill. It pissed him off. So much so, he felt his hand curling around the man’s throat without his say-so, his fingertips digging into the soft flesh around the jugular vein.
Hey there, monster.
Kai’s every muscle turned to stone. It was that thing again—the voice of his nemesis—egging him on as he held the fragile life of this moronic human between his fingers.
Do it. Tear his throat out with your teeth. Relish in the taste of his life on your tongue.
Kai snarled at the empty air, and had it not been for the frantic voices calling for their missing friend, he may very well have gone for the kill.
“Hey! Get away from him!” a large, lumbering man shouted as he closed in.
Kai straightened, not bothering to turn as the air moved behind him. He side-stepped to avoid the incoming swing, and his attacker tumbled forward onto his knees. Kai kicked him in the stomach, leaving him lurching before his two companions arrived at the scene.
Their drunken flails were clumsier than a toddler trying to catch a butterfly. Kai evaded each one before his counterattack hit them twice as hard—one in the jaw, the other in the kidneys. It was like playing piñata without the blindfold.
The alpha managed to find his feet again and pulled a hunting knife from a sheath clipped to his belt. He lunged at Kai, stabbing erratically. Backed into a wall, Kai blocked one of the blows that came down towards his shoulder. The blade nicked his forearm, but he pried it away with brute force. Turning the knife around, he drove it into the man’s side, then headbutted him in the face. The satisfying crunch of a fracturing nose sent a gush of blood cascading into his mouth. Kai shoved him away as he screamed, the sound vibrating painfully in his ears. He wanted to fold them shut, but his anatomy didn’t allow it so, instead, he kicked the SOB in the head.
“Goodnight, you glass-faced fuck,” he sneered as the man crumpled to the pavement.
The other two were already scrambling away, abandoning their wounded friends. Kai watched them flee, and some part of him took pleasure in their terror. He flexed his fingers around the knife handle sticky with blood from his hands. Red trickled down his jaw, dripping from his chin onto his toes. He caught the droplets on the back of his hand, then sucked the blood off his thumb. A slow, wicked smile spread across his face at the sight of the retreating figures, his shoulders starting to shake as he tried to suppress the laugh rumbling in his chest.
You enjoy watching them run.
“They’re pathetic.”
That’s why you should have killed them.
“Not worth the bloodstains.”
You’re no hunter, the voice mocked. Just a coward who likes playing sadist.
“You taught me well, you whimpering bitch,” Kai growled back. “Now teach me how to get rid of you.”
Get rid of me? Raucous laughter thundered in Kai’s ears. There’ll be more blood before you earn your release.
As if Kai would spill blood for the monster’s entertainment.
Poor little Elle. Didn’t know the Big Bad Wolf lived under the willow.
“I know I didn’t do that.”
But do you remember?
No, he didn’t. Sometimes, Kai wondered if he was crazy, but he’d seen crazy before and knew this wasn’t it. No, this was something else. This thing wasn’t part of who he was. It followed him, but it sure as hell wasn’t coming from inside him.
There had to be a way to break free of it.
Kai returned to his original target and stripped away his clothes. After throwing on jeans and a hooded jacket, he looted whatever money and valuables he could find on the two men left behind: a few bills, a wristwatch, and a Zippo lighter. He hung onto the knife, swiping the sheath from the fat one’s belt. By the time he finished, the voice had quieted, leaving him in peace for the time being.
Kai quickly deserted the scene. Whipping the hood up and shoving his hands into his pockets, he strode out of the alleyway. His stomach growled. He slowed as he passed a local grocer, reaching out and testing the knob. It was locked. Normally, he didn’t have money when he went into stores. Now, he had money, but the stores were all closed.
“Fuck you, sod,” he sneered, kicking the bottom of the door before addressing his stomach. “And you too, you goddamn black hole.”
He wondered what Alice would think if she was still around. Would she feel sad that he’d sunk to this? Ashamed, maybe?
Kai slumped his shoulders and sighed, trudging towards the forest from where he came. He reminded himself that Alice wouldn’t—or rather, couldn’t—care.
The dead had nothing to be concerned about.
3
Mason
It was just after sunset when Dr. Mason Evans drove into Black Hollow—several hundred kilometres northwest of Vancouver. At the end of the gravel road was a quaint old farmhouse that looked to have at least four bedrooms on the second floor. There were no signs and, had it not been for gas station employees who gave him directions, he never would have known this was the bed and breakfast he was looking for. The maps on his smartphone were of little use here, and this pleased Mason because it reinforced the idea that he’d gone somewhere no one could find him. He was finally free. He had six months to restore his mental health, and he knew that it wouldn’t happen in the city where he’d spent his entire life.
Mason recalled the conversation with the head of oncology at Vancouver General Hospital. A week had passed, but it was still fresh in his mind:
“Are you sure about this?” Dr. Lindman had asked. He'd peered over his glasses at the younger man, his thin, greying hair slicked back against his skull.
“I’m sure,” Mason remembered smiling uncomfortably. “I’m obviously not well-equipped to deal with the stress. I need some time.”
“You got a recommendation from the psych department,” Lindman had called him out. “You shouldn’t blame yourself. There is nothing you could have done. Amanda would have died anyway—the leukaemia was one of the most aggressive I’ve ever seen—”
“If I hadn’t put her through experimental treatment, she’d still be alive. She’d have more time. I made the wrong call.” Mason hated being pitied. Lindman had disapproved of his decisions through every step of the way. Now he was trying to comfort him. Mason was a thirty-two-year-old man for Christ’s sake. Did he really seem that pathetic?
“Yes,” Lindman had nodded. “You made the wrong call. And you’ll do it again.”
Those words still haunted Mason.
Remembering the exchange left him ill as he pulled his beat-up Honda Accord in front of the rustic inn. He didn’t want to end up like Lindman—a man too jaded to believe in miracles. This was the last year of Mason’s residency, but it didn’t matter that he was almost finished. After that conversation, he needed time away from oncology, and Black Hollow had called to him through a friend’s Facebook page. Jazlyn, an old colleague from med school who’d dropped out and settled for nursing, was now working at a local hospital and routinely uploaded photos of the town and its surrounding landscape.
Now that he was there, Mason knew Jazlyn wasn’t just a talented photographer. The bed and breakfast was as idyllic as a picture book. The window trims could have used a fresh coat of paint, but the grey brick chimney and pale wood panelling were reminiscent of a Victorian farmhouse. The porch was hidden snugly behind white posts that arched to form a sturdy gate lead
ing to the front door. All around were expanses of forests and clear water lakes left untainted by urban life. It was the opposite of the big city: the constant rush, the noise, the depersonalized bubbles everyone existed in. For a while, Mason’s job was the only tether he had to other people. He still wanted that connection, but without the impermanence and heartbreak.
The lady who ran the little inn had given him an irresistible deal; compared to Vancouver, his living expenses would be minimal. Sooner or later, he’d probably want to call his family and let them know where he’d gone—but not now. He’d left without a word, only notifying his landlord that he was moving out, and giving the Dean of Medicine a printed statement. Mason had disappeared off the face of the civilized world in hopes of leaving his mistakes buried in the dust behind him. Where he’d gone, he was certain they couldn’t follow.
He strolled up the creaky porch steps. Nabbing a grimy newspaper on the way, Mason read the headline. It was just over a week old.
Elle Robinson, 19, Stumbles out of Woods after Five-Day Search—Fears of Supernatural Kidnapping Run High.
How odd, Mason thought, scanning the article.
Over the years...missing girls of similar age...all appear to have no memory...why they ventured into the forest...no idea how long they’d been missing...
Surely, they were just runaways who returned on their own, likely too embarrassed to confess their motives.
Fearing more kidnappings, citizens anticipate the Dreamwalker’s return...Concern for Miss Robinson’s life inspires pressure on local government to intensify wolf cull.
“She can’t kidnap our girls without her wolves,” said the Robinsons’ neighbour. “They’re the ones luring girls away. We need to stop them.”