Spriggan: Dark horror fantasy

by Julius Schenk

‘I don’t think that’s why he left’ Vicky said

  Bree looked at her hard and seemed to be thinking about saying something.

  ‘I have something for you’ she said

  ‘do you’ now she was worried.

  Bree put her hand under her blanket and pulled out a wristband. It was black leather and looked cool. Bits of carved stone tied into it.

  ‘looks cool, what is it’ she asked

  ‘it’s magic, it’ll protect you’ Bree said,

  Vicky should have known, hippy, vegan, Scottish, she’d become mates with a Wiccan.

  Before she could say anything, Bree had tied it around her wrist.

  ‘I like you, Vicky, stay safe today.’

  ‘I will you get better.’

  She left the room and thought about taking off the wrist band. But if people wanted to believe in magic and shit that as fine, at least Bree was feeling better.

  Chapter Eleven

  He was feeling strong and young; His body felt more powerful than it had in years and he felt his powers growing as well. The boy had a lot of blood in him; he’d bled for a long time, feeling the grove growing with the strength of him. His life force had watered the home tree, and he could feel the power and growth in the grove. The vines were starting to grow green tips, and he knew his home would soon be a green paradise again. The Defilers would all be gone; he’d be awake and happy. He’d drained the body and then, placed it in the forest, where it would be hidden, he didn’t want the others to find it yet.

  Again, they were working, and he saw who was next, there were many, worse than the others, but he’d learned in hunting people, groups liked and cared more about some than others. If he took Roger or the hunter girl, the rest would flee, they were the group leaders, he needed to take the outsiders, the ones no one knew or cared about.

  He watched the one called Bill. He didn’t talk to any of them much when he did, it seemed like he spoke short words and badly, he seemed like he couldn’t speak. He looked different as well; he was darker skinned. Maybe he was from a different tribe or group. The Bill was a weak one, on the outside, he knew what would be the best method for him.

  Watching them, he was like a hunter waiting at the watering hole, waiting for the game. He was learning they all had habits and rituals they followed, some went to bed early, some late. Some were never alone. Always with someone else, some were often alone. The Bill one had his routine, after dinner, he would come alone to the big shed, with the high roof. It had a very big machine in it, that stank. He watched the boy from the dark, he turned on one light, but it was still dim. He would go to his pocket and pulled out a thing like the hunter girl. Smokes, he’d heard them called, but the way he had this it seemed the group wouldn’t approve. It smelled differently than tobacco and took him a long time to smoke. He sat and listened to ‘music’ on his little black box and seemed to be relaxing. The music sounded even worse than what he’d heard before; it wasn’t music it was just a banging sound repeatedly.

  He would die. He needed more for his grove to grow and this one was as bad as any of the others. He’d ripped up so many plants, he would suffer, and he was a fool to be alone. He watched the boy, he closed his eyes a little and then he just reached out, he let his fingers grow out into thin vines and start to crawl across the darkness, there was a large beam across the roof and joined by others that held it up. He let the vines go up and around and then reach down.

  The boy looked up, at some noise and must have seen the vines right above him. He stood up but stayed silent. That was a mistake, the vine wrapped around his neck in an instant. It wrapped around twice, firm, and hard, choking him and cutting off his breath. He let them grow back, and the boy was lifted off his feet, swinging by his neck. He’d done this before; he knew they could last a little, that it was a horror for them. He remembered the terror in the eyes of The Liam; he liked them to see him before they died, to know they didn’t control anything.

  He let the vines break from his hand, it hurt in a way, but they would grow back, quickly. He walked out of the darkness and looked at the boy. He grabbed at the vines as he swung back and forth in the darkened shed. He went to him and put his face close, wanting to see the terror, wanting to see him fighting for his pathetic life.

  His face was blank, he seemed scared, but it was missing something, he looked right at him, but didn’t seem to really know what was happening. He could feel the fear from him, but it was so much less than Liam, the big one. Not as good. He wished he could speak, to say ‘your being killed’ but he couldn’t.

  The boy swung, and his life faded from him. He wondered what was wrong with this one and then he realized. He was broken. He was on the outside because his mind was dull, he was the kind that was left in the snow as a baby. His tribe had abandoned him.

  The boy's eyes closed and he started to cough, so close. He felt almost sorry for it. They should never have let it grow up. The one, Bill coughed his last breath and died, swinging there before him. He didn’t even bother to bleed him; he was a terrible sacrifice, a broken one, what a waste of a night.

  Roger woke up before all the rest of them, got out of his trailer early. Things were already starting to fall apart, and he had to try and keep them together. The boy, Nick, was just gone. He’d been an idiot and left the boys suitcase and clothes, but Roger had been quick enough to remove them before the others noticed, he missed the phone, because it was charging in the kitchen, but that was explainable.

  Going around the farm, he went into the shed to get their tools for the day and stopped short. The door was wide open, and he saw bill, hanging from a homemade noose. He had been dead for hours, killed last night and he was stiff and cold.

  ‘shit’ Roger cried out ‘not again.’

  He looked at the boy, clearly another victim. He’d hung himself, but no chair. Someone had tried a rough vine around his neck and hoisted him up to his death. Even a suicide like this would bring the cops and who knew what they would find. He looked at his watch, still at least an hour before they all got up.

  Going to the boy, he took out his small knife and cut him down. He fell to the floor hard, and Roger started to drag his body through the shed out to the back door. He’d have to pull his car around. He crept to the back of the house. All still asleep and all had his own room, thankfully. He slunk up the stairs and went this room; he pushed it open gently.

  At least the kid was organized, all his clothes and things were packed neatly in two suitcases. He took them and did a quick search around the room. The bed as near an unslept in. He took the bags and started to walk out the door. He heard someone get up. It was Vicky, the bloody smoker, always wondering around.

  She walked out the door, smoke in mouth, sleepy face. She looked at him and the suitcase.

  ‘Hello boss, what’s up’ she said

  ‘Another one of you can’t take it, I have to drop Bill off in town, so I thought I’d do it now and still get a full day of work in’ he said

  She didn’t seem that shocked; no one had really spoken to him.

  ‘No goodbyes?’ she said

  ‘He’s a Chinese, they’ve got no manners’ he said and walked off ‘even makes an old man carry his stuff’ he said.

  He walked down the stairs, and she went out the back. He took the bags and dropped them in his land rover and waited; she should go be to bed. His heart was pounding, what if she’d said, ‘I’ll come to town’ she seemed like she would, but was half dressed and he’d done a good job of staring at her through her thin shirt.

  He got in the car and drove to the back of the shed. He threw the boy into to the back and covered him with a piece of old sheeting and drove off. There was an old council dirt road, and where he had to go was a short drive. In less than ten minutes he was standing at the edge of an old mine shaft. It had been abandoned years ago and was deep. In true country fashion, it was filled with all kinds of junk, rubbish, and even an old car.

  Taking the boy by the ankles, he drag
ged him out of the back and threw him into the hole. With a grunt of effort. He then tossed in the clothes and baggage. He could live at the bottom now, along with all the belongings and the body of that poor girl. She’d been in there three years now, not much left.

  Once it was all done, he sat on the hood of his car. His heart stopped racing, but he was mad, so mad. He thought it was a once off, the girl, she rejected Gareth, made a fool of him, he understood that in a way, but now a boy and more than one? He needed to talk to his brother and make him stop.

  Chapter Twelve

  Watching them had become a sport. He was the judge and kept track of them as they sinned and got added to the list. They were all out working again, this time he was watching the hunter girl, she was alone and near the flowers. He saw her, rolling one of those tobacco things and lit it. It smelled bad, like burning plants. He looked at her and then he felt something new.

  Power was coming off her. She felt like the priestess’s felt. He looked with sharp eyes and saw she was wearing a charm. She wore a bracelet of stained leather. An animal sacrificed to nature, allowed if it was sick, and it held symbols of blessing, carved in very old stone.

  She was protected, not from major sins, not from him, if he chose to go at her, but if she cut a flower if she was clumsy and thoughtless, she was safe. The charm said, ‘I am as a child, forgive me’ she would be safe unless she did something very bad like killed a living being. It was protection that his priestess would wear, so he’d view their sins as he would a child.

  Where had she gotten it? Maybe she was a priestess after all. Then he thought of the girl last night; it had her smell on it. She was the priestess, this one was her follower and thus protected. He grinned to himself. He wanted to kill her and would make her break, but his list was growing, and he needed to tend it.

  There were no chances to strike during the day. No one stepped away from the group, and he could taste the fear and apprehension in the air. They had no idea their friend was dead, but he was gone, and that seemed to scare them. A girl, her name was Lena, was moving up the list in his mind. She was a tall blonde girl. She seemed lazy and weak, but she angered him the most. Her man and she were at the front of the house. They had a machine which made a buzzing sound, and they ran it over the wood, and it made it like new.

  As they worked, he felt something coming towards her. She was destroying someones home, and it was coming to find out what. A small wood scorpion fell from the top of the wood wall, and the landed on the ground next to her. It was red and black, small; he could feel it’s fear. They were little things, no poison, only a painful sting. She screamed in shock and lashing out before he could react, her giant leather boot raised up, and she crushed it under her foot. It didn’t have time to feel pain, but he felt the rage. It was harmless to her. She had destroyed its home, but that’s what these defilers were like they didn’t think about anything but themselves. She looked disgusted and scrapped its lifeless body from the bottom of her boot with a stick, she had found.

  Then she and her man laughed ‘gross’ she said, whatever that meant.

  He would make her pay. He would see how she liked to be the weak one, to be the one filled with fear and helpless to fight back. He just had to wait for the right time to strike. That night after another dinner of dead chickens and something else, he was on the outside of the house and tracking her, waiting for a chance. He heard her say ‘shower’ and started to run upstairs with heavy feet.

  He knew a shower was when they took their clothes off and washed; it was a good time to strike, they always locked the door.

  The room for the shower was on the second floor, and looking up to the small window of the room, he placed his hand on the wall and started to climb up the wood. He could climb any wood and easily went up the outside of the house, small vines in his hand clinging to the wood and gripping it. until its face rested on the window. It was made so you couldn’t see through it, but it was open a little at the bottom, and he could see in easily.

  Soon she was in the room. She took off her boots and clothes and threw them on the floor. In the room was a large mirror it was in front of the shower, and she stood looking at herself for a while, they like to look at themselves he had noticed. As she looked at herself and took her under clothes off, there was a knock on the door. She smiled and opened it. Her man was there.

  They spoke in another language, but soon they were both naked and in the shower. The boy had locked the door after him, that was good. The boy wasn’t far up his list, but he’d laughed at the death of the scorpion and had done many little things. It was risky to take two in the house, but he was angry at her and had no choice.

  She opened the glass shower room and after turning on the water got in, he did too. They were kissing and laughing but wouldn’t be for long.

  The window soon fogged up, and he pressed it open. It was open just a gap at the bottom, much too small for him, but he didn’t need to get in. He put his fist through the gap and opened his hand, as he opened it, a small wood scorpion crept in. It was the dead one; he’d collected it and with a lot of power used had brought it back.

  The small wood scorpion crawled out of his hand and started to make its way towards them. He’d reached out with his mind and called them all, the outside walls crawled thick with them, and they were guided by his mind into the room. Soon there were nearly a hundred of them. Red and black bodies, single minded purpose. He kept calling and guiding them, as they crawled into the window and towards the two.

  He then reached across the floor and simply held his hand at the bottom of the shower door, Locking them inside. He heard her say something to him, but couldn’t understand it.

  As she looked up, he could have laughed, her scream filled the room and surely the whole house. The entire clear glass wall was covered with red and black bodies. They climbed up the door and over it. Leaping from the top down onto them both. Guided by his mind as he watched. Tens and tens of them landed on their heads, shoulders, wet hair. Both were screaming and yelling now, as the creatures landed on them and stung them repeatedly. He knew the pain would be awful as the mass of them stung them on the face, neck, and bodies.

  The boy turned to the push the glass door and tried to open it, but he held it firm with an unseen hand at the bottom. He started to bang his fists hard on the glass, trying to escape the pain and being pushed by her, the clear glass, cracked in a big sheet and that half came down onto their hand and arms in a shattering shower.

  Their hands and wrists were cut as it broke around them. Both of their entire bodies were covered with his warriors, and they attacked them with a relentless energy. He saw the blood pouring from her wrists and hands; it mixed with the water of the shower. She was frantic; she tried to climb out of the broken door. It had broken half way up and was still a jiggered shard, like a fence of glass.

  From outside he heard people banging on the door.

  ‘Are you guys ok?’ a voice shouted.

  They were both shoving the glass door hard, trying to get out, bleeding and covered in the scorpions. He felt the force of their pushing and smiled. Quick as a flash, he pulled his hand away and the shower door, or what was left of it, swung back hard, smashing fully. There bleeding and scorpion covered bodies came flying out of the shower. They both hit the mirror across from it, which also shattered, as did the shower door, covering them with glass.

  He saw their bodies hit the floor; he called back his creatures, they came, some were crushed under the bodies of the two and lay broken, but it was worth their sacrifice to get his revenge. The door was hit hard from the other side, and he drew his arms back and leaped to the ground. Two more off his list.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Vicky had never seen a body before and what she saw in that bathroom shocked her to her core. She was sitting downstairs talking to a newly healthy Bree, eating dinner when they heard Lena scream. It was such a blood-curdling horror movie scream. Her mate Ella, just dropped her fork and lunging
out from the table, ran upstairs, fast.

  The bathroom door was locked, and she banged against it. Inside the sound of her and her boyfriend screaming continued, then they heard a huge crash and shower of glass. The screams stopped suddenly. Ella looked at her.

  ‘we have to get in’ she said, shaking the door.

  Vicky had seen her fair share of cop movies and got them to stand back. She kicked the door with a front kick as hard as she could. A lance of pain traveled up her leg, the door, didn’t fling out like in a cop movie, but did crack, with a loud sound. She ignored the pain in her leg and kicked it again, harder still. Thankfully this time if flung open with a shower of splinters.

  Her, Bree, and Ella all piled into the doorway and stopped. Words truly couldn’t explain what she was seeing. The girl Lena and her boyfriend were dead for sure. They lay naked, in a huge pool of bright blood and smashed the glass. The shower door was broken and hanging in its thin frame. Her boyfriend’s body lay half across her. The shower was still running, and they were both covered in broken glass. The mirror was smashed as well; it looked like he’d put his fist right through it.

  Ella bent down next to her friend. The knees of her jeans were getting wet with the blood that was thick on the white tiled floor.

  ‘Lena? Carl?’ Ella said in a hopeless question; they were gone. Dead, blank eyes, open and staring at nothing.

  Vicky couldn’t understand it. The shower was still running, the room was empty, except for them. It was like they both screamed and then threw themselves through the shower window. It looked like the world’s most painful and crazed suicide pact.

  ‘What are they?’ Ella asked

  She was looking in her friend's blood, the bodies of three wood scorpions floated, dead and crushed.

  Roger was soon there, and he also looked horrified. He turned to the now crowd of them at the door. No one could understand it.