Dead Letters: In The Ruins Of Hope
Page 8
Mary said, taking a seat herself. Shil looked surprised and angry all at the same time, but Sha laughed that horrible laugh.
“I told you to stop using the same one. Somebody was bound to get it.”
“Hush, you! It was a lucky guess is all.” The two began to circle her while she sat and thought. The smell of piss and musk took her breath away. Their playfulness was fading. She could feel their hunger and knew this game was going to end soon if she didn’t come up with something.
“Your turn, Shil.”
“Ask it then.”
“I have a head but no eyes, arms, or legs. I give you courage but make you stumble. I leave all your friends in a jumble. Through me you see a woman’s beauty before you're blind. What am I?”
“Have a thing for blindness, do you?” Sha hissed at her, “Maybe we’ll start with the eyes then?” Mary could feel herself trembling but refused to break down in front of them. The game was still on, and she had a chance.
“Look who's confident now, you haven’t won yet.” They both laughed at this, making her ears ring. Shil stopped and stood before her, she reared back till she was sitting on her back legs. Those massive paws hovered above Mary, ready to fall down and sweep her into that hungry mouth.
“Poppy milk.” Shil said with as much arrogance as the highest born king.
“No.” Mary could have screamed with relief.
“Liar!” The two of them roared in unison.
“I am not. It was good a guess though. Poppy milk can definitely leave you in a jumble but making women pretty? You’d need a beer for that.”
“A beer? A beer doesn't have a head.” Mary wasn’t sure, but Shil sounded like she was pouting.
“Ah, the foam!” Sha said behind her. “Now that was good.”
“So I’ve won then.” Mary stood up, shaking so bad she looked like she was having a fit. “Yes yes. I knew I should have gone first,” Sha snapped at Shil, who had her back to both of them.
“Wouldn’t have done any better. You can’t even make a good pun.”
“Better than your old map riddle. I swear, a whelp could figure that out.” While the two of them bickered, Mary moved to the opposite end, ready to sprint down the hall.
“Oh, piss on you! You didn’t even go.” Shil swished her tail at an angry pace.
“I didn’t, did I?” She turned to Mary and smiled, showing all those teeth again. They glistened with spit in the light. “Hardly seems fair that. I’ve got one for you, little tasty. All friendly, for the one that got away. Will you hear it?” Mary knew it didn’t matter what she said so just nodded. Her body tense and ready to try an escape, though from their display of speed before, she had little hope in her.
“What follows but never rises, spreads after the burn and fills a murderer's heart. What runs from you in the morning and surrounds you at night?” Behind the two sisters, the way she had came, the hallway began to decay. It was as if time was finally catching up, bringing years of rot and dust and neglect. Something approached with the ruin, fluid and pulsing and chattering. Mary couldn’t answer, fear had robbed her voice.
“Can’t guess? What's the matter, cat your tongue?” A purr, a laugh. “I’ll tell you anyway. It’s the dark.” With that, all the lights died.
Mary stumbled backward, scrambled up onto her feet and tried to run. She felt bogged down, as if the darkness itself was pressing on her, slowing her. The slime was just behind her. She could smell it, hear it as it dragged its bones across the floor, rattled its skulls in search of her. Something wet and thick splashed against the back of her leg and burned hotter than fire. She grit her teeth and willed her legs to move faster. They listened, giving her some distance again. It was a small victory and, in the end, one that didn’t last long.
She slammed headlong into a door, knocked flat on her ass. Stars bloomed in the night around her and a buzzing filled her ears. She felt a little warm blood run down from a cut that burned across her brow. Some ran into her eyes as she tried to stand up. Weak and dizzy, Mary felt around for the latch, one thought yelled over the pain: It was closing in. It was so close. She manged to fling it open just in time for her pursuer to slam into her back and send her flying.
The force of it lifted her off her feet and pitched her into the room where she fell hard into something mushy. Her stomach rolled and lurched before she threw up from the smell all around her. The buzzing of flies was deafening as they hummed an angry hymn in the dim room. There was some meek light on the far end, as if a candle were trying to shine through a dusty glass. It was enough for her make out the dozens of bodies all round. All bloated and rotten.
She had landed on a few, their putrid gore covering her in viscera and the smell... all the gods, the smell. It choked her, pulled more from her guts in heaves. The door closed with a creak. She slipped and fell backwards. On reflex she put her arm out to catch her fall and ended up shoving it through the decaying chest of a body. She felt the ruined skin give way and her hand sink into the cool, vile cavity of its chest. Mary jumped up and yanked her arm back. An arrow clutched in her hand.
She saw the black shape of the creature move closer to her from the door way, but she wasn’t able to move. Glued to the floor by black slime. She felt her boots cave in and screamed as the muck covered her feet. It ate at her skin, chewed away at her toes. As it threw itself toward her, the bodies began to slide up and join the mass of corpses that made its form.
Skin peeled back and muscle trickled away until only the bones remained, stained black. The goo moved up her legs like flaming snakes. Mary knew that this was the end. She would die in this ruined house of horrors, another body in a dead man's nightmare. The monster must have sensed she had given up because it slowed to a lazy crawl. Wanted to savor this fresh kill, she imagined.
A tapping came from somewhere on the other end of the room. It wasn’t loud but it was insistent. Mary strained her eyes to see and could just make out some small shape fluttering up and down near the muted light. It let out a faint caw and went back to tapping. The tapping increased as the ooze loomed over her, just a few feet away. Mary’s eyes went wide when she realized that the crow was pecking on filthy glass.
Mary leaned over as far as she could and snatched Slim’s bow off the ground. With a prayer to her father and whatever god was watching, she notched the gruesome arrow and let it fly at the bird. It whizzed over the monster’s head and faltered. Dipped lower than her target but close enough to shatter the window. Light poured into the room and every mouth on every body opened in a blood curdling scream.
Rays pierced the black horror like spears. Burned away the foulness which had kept these souls trapped here. Ribs and skulls and teeth and bones of all shapes and sizes shot out in an explosion of purification. One of the bones struck Mary and she dropped to the ground. The world went in and out, a tide pulled her away.
She awoke in a groggy mess. Her head felt cracked in a million different ways. Just the thought of moving made her stomach churn. She didn’t know how long she had been out, but birds were twittering somewhere. It was a cautious sound, lenitive, hopeful that what had scared them from the forest was finally gone. She got up and looked around.
Behind her, where she had come, had caved in and looked to have been that way for years. All around, instead of putrid corpses, were long dead skeletons. Some were still wearing the long black robes of the brothers. Others garbed in mismatched armor. Bandits, most likely. They probably attacked the asylum and the cult had made a last stand here in this room.
The window she had shattered was massive and had been made of stained glass. Mary could make out sun rays on the few shards that held on to the frame. The crow as no where to be found, neither was the bow. In her bag she found everything as it had been except the figurine, it was gone without a trace.
Mary trudged to the broken window. Her toes were bright red, dozens of cuts covered them. They felt as if the skin was thin and even the littlest movement could cause it
to rupture. She stubbed her toe on something and felt the nail split.
“Son of a horse sucking whore!” She cursed. She bent down to find what had done it and break it to pieces. A small chest was half way covered by a bit of moldy cloth. The lock fell off with a tug in a puff of rust. Inside were golden coins, gems of amethyst and ruby. There were silver chains and crude chunks of diamonds. Enough treasure to pay off every money lender and bring her business back to its glory days. Enough for a lifetime.
While she stood there awestruck, a shadow fell across the room. A black shape formed against the light and Mary jerked back only to start laughing as the panic faded away. The laughter kept coming in great spurts, hysterical and gasping. Oats snorted at her master. The horse leaned her head as far as possible into the room. The chewed bit of tie-down rope wagged like a disappointing finger.
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From the Author
I just wanted to say thank you for giving my work a chance. When I sat down to work on the Dead Letters I really wanted to try and capture the fanciful side of folklore with this first one. Things like dream quests and talking animals are such a hallmark of myths and fables that I thought giving them a go first would be fun. Not to mention a way to pay a little nod to some of the stories that inspired me to be a writer in