I do not believe that my friends approve of the time
I am spending contemplating languages,
As the shrieking sounds are echoing through the cave once again.
I am too tired to offer any fear to them
And much too exhausted to continue to write.
My eyes are very heavy and
The flickering candle against the dark
Does not aide me in my quest to stay awake.
III
GREED
Mountains were beautiful during that season.
Trees had begun shedding their leaves.
Our village was nestled between two mountains
In a wonderful valley full of nature.
Majority of the residents were farmers,
I worked as a carpenter and
My time consisted of preparing the recently cut trees
To become lumber used in new cottages.
The village was nice and peaceful
With the sun rising and falling against the mountain horizons.
I was the main source for all carpentry needs
And enjoyed being the center of construction.
Over the past few years,
Repairing structures became my sole chore.
Seldom did new construction show itself, but
It was appreciated when it did.
Most of my time was spent
In my carpentry shop or
In the nearby woodlands collecting lumber.
The village was not nearly as big as other neighboring ones,
But it was unique in its location.
The proximity of the land between two mountain ranges
Provided a picturesque horizon.
The mountains were well respected and
We even had festivities in honor of them.
Common travel from the west soon led
Nomads and gypsies towards the village.
The path funneled travelers of all sorts
Through the mountains and directly into our entrance.
Residents did not mind the travelers
As they brought goods and tales from their homeland.
The increase in demand for lumber was also welcomed.
Most of the visitors continued on their journey
After a brief period of rest, but
Some stayed behind and even became residents.
I had not seen that type of excitement in the village.
Some were fearful of sudden change, while others embraced it.
However, the merchants all seemed very thankful.
Elders viewed the change as a threat to their way of life causing
Arguments to erupt on occasion, but nothing serious.
The landscape of our village changed dramatically as
New cottages were erected and new farmlands were plowed.
We were slowly running out of space and
Even spread pastures up the base of the mountains
To maximize the acres within the valley.
Change was gradual over the years,
Thus allowing for people to adapt.
Some residents left as they were disgusted
By the new condensed lifestyle.
I did not mind, as the carpentry needs kept me busy.
My business grew to meet the demands of my customers.
I began making wagon repairs, plow equipment and
Even constructed a water vat to match the consumption.
Travelers brought many concepts and items
To the village from their native homelands.
They gifted us with unique spices, recipes, tools
And more importantly stories of far off places.
Living in the valley for so long, it was quite refreshing
To hear tales from other parts of the world.
They were fascinating and
Included different species of animals, remote civilizations
And heroic tales of warfare.
We had become so isolated within our mountain pass valley
That the stories easily captivated us.
Each night we invited new travelers to come to the courtyard
And tell us about their homelands.
Residents looked forward to these events each night
And it gave our visitors a chance to feel welcomed.
Of all the stories and tales that the travelers told,
Only one ever raised concern among the residents.
A group of gypsies recited a tale of a great plague
That ravished their homeland
Forcing people to flee in seek of a safe haven.
They told of a flesh eating virus
That consumed everything a man was created of except bone.
Until then, the stories were light and often humorous, so
The shock of an approaching plague was devastating.
I was not seriously involved in their tale,
But found myself unable to turn away as
They were very descriptive with their words.
They continued by saying that they had witnessed villages
Once full of life being reduced to huge mounds of lifeless flesh.
The tale spoke that the infected ones would be alive
As their flesh rotted away and was consumed.
I cannot say whether I believed the tale,
But their story telling technique was quite convincing.
I looked around the courtyard and
Could easily decipher who was a believer or not.
There were those who elected to not believe
As that proved to be the easiest option.
No one wanted to consider that a plague was killing people,
Let alone approaching our village.
I took the story for what it was, a story.
I was not going to scream profanities at the gypsies
Like some had chosen to do.
We had invited them to share a story from their homeland
And that was what they did.
Regardless of whether or not someone believed them,
The tale was quite interesting.
Days went by and the gypsies
Were well on their way to their next destination,
While the tale of the plague lingered around longer.
Open invites for new stories were reduced as
Residents were afraid of what they would hear next.
I found it somewhat unique that
We welcomed the peaceful stories
And shielded ourselves from the horrific ones.
We soon felt deprived by not hearing the nightly stories
And began the ritual again.
To avoid any future offerings of death,
We implemented an approval process.
A group of elder residents would learn of the tales
Prior to them speaking and
Would either approve or decline them.
I was sure that the method was not the best option at hand,
But it worked and allowed for the practice to resume.
One traveler had been approved and
She began telling her story to a large crowd in the courtyard.
She spoke of ripened fruit trees as far as the eye could see
And large waterfalls for bathing.
She described her prosperous village and loving family.
Her next words struck fear throughout the listeners
And gained my attention as I carved a piece of wood.
She said her village and family were all destroyed by the plague.
Silence fell in the courtyard.
Evidence promoting the plague had just doubled.
Two separate visitors within a short time span
Telling of a similar virus rehashed the panic of the crowd.
The elder censors were as equally shocked and
Were instantly blamed for the words of the woman.
People went into a chaotic state over t
he next season.
They took all precautions to fend off the plague;
Offering a dead animal carcass outside their cottages or
Keeping a smoldering hot fire that would burn the plague vapors.
Rumors were abundant during that time
With some being more obscure than others.
My favorite was that one could avoid the virus
By simply not allowing your skin to be exposed.
People walked around the village completely covered in cloth.
I did not pay any mind to the tale
As I was busy selling wood
To feed the fires people were creating to fend off the putrid smog.
The rumors brought about many coins in my pocket.
We ended the story telling event and never resurrected it.
It was the village’s way to avoid the situation.
Our best option was to keep the tale as the fearful imagination
Of the gypsies and the lone woman.
That mindset would change the following day,
As our village received the first physical sign
That such a plague did exist outside of a stubborn tale.
I remember the events clearly.
I was busy stripping the bark from freshly cut logs
In the nearby woods just outside of the village.
I had a specific area where I retrieved the lumber from
And did the task at least every other day.
The amount of wood I gathered at any given time
Would stock my shop for two days.
I did not gather more wood than I needed
As I believed that if the wood was allowed to sit for a long period
That it would dry out and become weak.
I was almost done for the day and
Acquired a good amount of lumber.
As I was loading up my cart, I saw him.
He was just standing there staring at me from afar.
At first glance the image startled me as
I am usually alone within the woods
Except for the occasional wandering deer.
He was dressed in a hooded cloak that hid his identity.
None of his characteristics could be viewed
Especially from that distance.
I placed the log that I was holding into the cart and
Wiped off my hands that were covered with dirt.
I never turned away from him as I cleaned up my surroundings.
With everything in place and orderly, I called to him.
The sound of my voice resulted in no response.
He remained in his position slightly swaying from side to side.
I shouted to him and asked if he needed help,
But again received no answer.
With the sun slowly sinking behind the mountains,
I knew it was not a good idea for him to be out in the woods
After sunset as coyotes roamed the area.
I took a few steps towards him.
My movement must have scared him as he scurried away.
I laid down my tools and gave chase all the while asking him to stop.
Winding through the rows of trees, I kept after him.
The sun continued to sink further and
I was worried that the coyotes would view him as prey.
I pleaded with him to stop.
Even shouted that it was dangerous to run in the woods at night.
Fortunately, my final words were heard as he came to a stop.
Sensing the race had ended;
I slowed my pace to a walk
And neared him from behind.
His hooded cloak concealed his physical attributes.
As I got closer, I could hear him mumbling,
But could not interpret his words.
He was shaking uncontrollably and continued to sway.
I extended my arm to allow my hand to touch his shoulder
In hopes that my contact would offer him comfort.
I did not succeed in my effort as before I touched him,
He shifted around, grabbing my arm while dropping to his knees.
The words were less mumbled now as he begged for mercy.
His grip was tight on my forearm,
So much so that his nails provided outside pressure on my skin.
From the looks of his hands
I could tell he was pale in complexion and weak in strength.
His bony fingers and dirty nails dug deep into my skin.
My concern was stronger than him and
Allowed me to forego any discomfort he was causing me.
I offered to provide him food and shelter.
My first inclination was that he was a traveler
Who had lost his way; perhaps ventured from the path.
Since the new trade route,
We had seen our share of lost people
Especially in the winter season
As the snow would occasionally shield the road.
However, it was rare to find people straying
During that particular time of year.
The past few days brought about no new groups of travelers, so
My curiosity increased regarding him.
It was unwise to travel by oneself.
The terrain leading to our village through the mountain ranges
Could cripple even the strongest of warriors.
To see a frail person wandering alone was something
I had never encountered before.
I held onto the notion that he was accidentally
Left behind by his group probably while he slept.
Still, the last group we received was three days ago.
To survive in that environment on your own for that long was quite a feat.
From the look of his hands,
He had not consumed anything for quite some time.
I thought it was best to lead him to my cart and
Bring him to the village so that I could replenish him;
Treat him back to health.
Part of me was curious to his story and
Hoped that he would enlighten me as to how he survived the mountain trek.
Supporting his shoulders, I guided him upwards.
As he rose, I reassured him that there was no reason to hide beneath the cloth.
With him still gripping my arm,
I raised both of my hands and folded back his hood.
What I witnessed next would haunt my dreams.
All that I assumed regarding the lone traveler
Would be erased from my memory.
My description of what I saw
Could not translate the level of horror appropriately.
His face was all but caved in
With sagging skin loosely gripping to his skull.
The flowing pattern of his skin
Combined with an abundance of wrinkles
Was evident enough that he had no excess fat or flesh within his face.
I had never seen a human skull before,
That was the closest I had ever come.
The top portions of skin clung so tightly
To his skull and had become transparent
That I could see the outline and formation of it.
His eyes were loosely held by their sockets,
But the lack of flesh allowed them to protrude further than normal.
The pupils consisted of a black circle
Randomly shifting within a sea of blood.
I could not tell the direction of his sight as
His eyes were moving rapidly in different directions
With no apparent pattern.
His mouth was filled with rotted yellow teeth
Outlined with dried caked lips.
When he opened his mouth,
I could see that it was filled with a thickened blood substance
Which shifted about by the movement of his tongue.
The sight was devastatin
g to me;
To see a human being in such a state of despair and agony.
I continued the notion that I needed to get him back to the village
To reverse the starvation that was altering his appearance.
As I watched the uncontrollable twitching and
The shaking he exerted while I held his shoulders,
I was reminded about the gypsies
And the stories they told about an approaching plague.
I immediately released my grip on the man by
Prying his fingers from my arm.
I was surprised that my strength did not break his bones.
My release sent him stumbling back downward where
He began to beg for mercy once again.
I distanced myself while rubbing my arms from his touch.
What did I do?
Was the plague true?
Were the gypsies right?
I required a moment to recollect my thoughts.
My demeanor quickly changed
From a concerned citizen
To a selfish protector.
As he whimpered on the ground,
The aftermath of his touch on my arm was very much apparent.
I looked closely at my forearm
Where his nails left indentations in my skin.
I noticed my blood vessels were darkening in color.
His sharpened disfigured fingernails
Punctured my skin ever so slightly and left four small wounds.
Much to my displeasure, the skin alterations
Were slowly spreading across my skin.
I quickly scanned my surroundings
For any witnesses.
I desperately concealed my wound by lowering my shirt sleeve
And gripped my arm in hopes to suffocate the disease.
I knew I could not provide any satisfaction physically,
But still I tried.
Fear quickly bombarded my mind
And was too much to handle.
I opted to forego the notion of the plague
And believe that it was just a skin irritation caused by his nails.
I knew that was not true
As I could not avoid the utter devastation he was experiencing.
The Sinner 01 The Sinner Page 5