Title: Violet Hill
Inspiration: Violet Hill by Coldplay
Description: Every century, the small and very religious town of Violet Hill is plagued by two brothers known only as Schlyvokk. Nobody in the town knows what they are, or where they came from. The townspeople spend all fall preparing for that long and dark December, knowing that for one month they can't leave their houses. All they can do is pray for the poor souls that don't make it inside in time.
oOo
The legend says they come every one hundred years, with the purple glow of Violet Hill illuminating their silhouette at the first December sunset. With identical eyes, empty and green, they close in on the townsfolk not lucky enough to make it inside, leaving them without even the chance to clutch their rosary beads, before being dragged, bleeding and screaming, into the mountains. Only the smeared footsteps, stained red and interrupted, left to carry on their memory.
Roxas closed his journal, realizing he had been writing a lot longer than intended. He set the small, brown book down on his old side table and shifted on his bed so he could see out of the window. Neighbors were running around, frantic and disarrayed, with large bags in their hands and on their backs. Everyone was preparing.
He pulled his journal out again.
November thirtieth and everyone is awaiting the return of the brothers.
It left Roxas to wonder what attracted them to this small town.
Why Violet Hill?
With a population of little over seven hundred, there wasn't much to find here. Maybe it was the mountains, rising to the heavens and porcelain white all year round. Or maybe it was the sunset, coating the town in a lavender glaze, which darkened as the sun set lower. Roxas didn't understand, and he'd never get the chance to ask, as anyone who tried to talk or reason with the brothers, or just didn't make it in the house in time, was dragged away.
Beyond the mountains.
Nobody knew what they were, but they had their theories.
Schlyvokk, or vampire.
When he looked up once again and out the window to see his mother approaching the house, he abandoned the journal on his bed and got up, making his way down the creaky, wooden steps and into the kitchen.
"Roxas," his mother said once she made it in the doorway, "come help me."
He looked out the small kitchen window before going over to her and grabbing some of the plastic, blue bags.
"Can I go to Sora's?" he asked as he carried the bags into the small kitchen and set them on the counter. Sora has been his best friend since they started school at age five. He was a lot more confident and outgoing than Roxas, and most people said they complimented each other.
His mom froze when she heard the question, and looked at him with a hardened expression.
"Absolutely not," she said, "you know what day it is. You know what would happen if you got stuck out there.
Roxas looked back out the window. A light snowfall had picked up, clouding his view of the bustling street.
"If it gets too late I'll stay there," he responded, looking back over at her.
"I'm sure his mother would appreciate you being there for a month," his mother said with a facetious tone in her voice.
He nodded and didn't argue further as he left the kitchen and wandered back up the loud stairs, making his way back into his diminutive room and sitting on the bed.
Can't stay in this house any longer, might literally go insane.
Roxas stood once again and pulled his old black coat on. He grabbed his worn out, leather messenger back and flung it over his shoulder, making sure to put his journal inside first. He opened the tiny window in his room and squeezed his way out, his one story house making it easy to escape.
Finally free.
He proceeded to walk in the direction of his friend's house, stopping only to pull his coat tighter around him and push forward in the direction of the wind.
oOo
Finally, he came upon Sora's house, the structure not much different than all the others, but the worn roof and broken fence making it recognizable, even in the snow.
He climbed over the broken part of the wooden fence, heading to the back of the house rather than the front door. When he made it to the back, a trail of deep footprints following behind him, he grabbed onto the window ledge and pulled himself up enough that his knees were able to balance on it. Sora came and opened the window before Roxas even had to knock.
"What the heck are you doing here?" he barked at him, moving out of the way to let him in the window.
"I didn't want to be there anymore," Roxas responded.
"My mom will kill me if she catches you here," Sora said, "You have to go home."
Roxas looked at his friend as he sat on his small bed, taking in the unruly brown spikes and blue eyes. He knew he wasn't actually going to kick him out, even if today was the day of the brothers.
"Let's go do something," Roxas said, looking up at Sora where he stood.
"Hell no, man," Sora responded, pushing a hand through his messy hair, "I'm not even taking chances today. You know what would happen if we got stuck outside."
Roxas stood up and walked in front of Sora, looking up at the boy who was taller than him by a significant amount, "It's only two o'clock. We have two and a half hours until the sun sets."
Sora looked away for a moment, past Roxas and out the window, and seemed to contemplate the question.
Come on.
"Fine," he finally answered, "but I'm only going for an hour. Then we have to come back home."
Roxas smiled and turned back around towards the window. He climbed onto the window sill and without looking back said, "Hurry up and get ready, I'll wait for you out here."
When he got outside he noticed the footprints he previously made were gone.
Sora soon climbed out of the window, wearing a brown coat and a hat that smashed his spikes down along his forehead.
"So where do you want to go," he asked once he was finally standing next to Roxas.
"Same place we always go," Roxas replied, turning to walk in the opposite direction, away from the back of the house and towards the woods that were immediately behind it.
Once they were in the woods, Roxas led Sora down a small, manmade trail that involved them weaving in and out of the naked trees, the only sounds being the snapping of branches and the crunching of snow under their boots. They followed this trail for about five minutes before coming up to a clearing. Usually, the clearing was bustling with wave after wave of emerald grass and small flowers of every color, leading up to the bright, cerulean Never Lake. Now, in the ending of fall and beginning of winter, the flowers were dead, and the grass was sheathed in a pallid blanket of snow. The only memory of the previous beauty being the lake, unfrozen and glowing blue in the winter air.
"I love this pla-" Roxas was cut off by the feeling of something icy and wet against the back of his neck. He turned to see Sora already forming another snowball.
Smiling, he ran from the boy, reaching down and grabbing handfuls of snow to throw back at him.
The most fun I've had in months.
The boys continued to fool around in the snow, not noticing the subtle movement of the sun from one end of the clearing to the other, only coming to attention when a loud ding rand throughout the clearing, signaling the sunset.
With panic stricken looks across their faces, they took off, back through the woods and along the trail, all the fun and laughter forgotten. Roxas wasn't as strong as Sora and didn't have as much stamina, so he fell behind. The snow was a demon, digging its frozen claws into his struggling legs and slowing him down.
"Sora," he tried to scream, but the wind was an armada of ships and his voice an unsuspecting ocean. Sound barely escaped his lips before it was shoved back down his throat.
Finally he reached the town.
He ran up to the circle of houses that stood before him and grasped at his chest, needing more air as he looked around for his friend.
"Sora," he called, "Sora where are you!"
He continued to call out until he noticed a familiar face in the window of a house with a worn roof and broken fence.
"Sora," he whispered.
Slowly, he turned.
His mom, his sisters, his neighbors, the priests, the shop owners, all stared from the houses, faces as white and unforgiving as the snow that fell around him.
Soon, the purple sunset started to swallow him. It started at his heels, eating at his worn boots and chewing on his pant legs. It began to creep up his chest, scraping at his thin shoulders before finally engulfing him in his entirety.
As he stood in the lilac haze, he pulled out his journal for the last time.
From the windows they were watching while I froze down below.