Ordinary Writing Levels, Day 29, Prompt: fear
Hella didn't know where she was. It was dark. Or she was blind. She didn't know. She heard something nearby and felt fear wrap it's spindly fingers around her spine. Her breathing started coming in short pants until she was gasping, she closed her mouth to try and stifle the noise but couldn't seem to get enough air into her lungs.
Help me!
She screamed it inside her mind, wondering where they were. When there was no answer other than the shuffling sound of something large moving closer she tried not to panic. She wasn't alone. No, they had never really left her alone before no matter how many times she'd wanted them too, told them to.
The hair on her neck tickled and she stiffened, unwilling to move. She felt the quick puffs of the breath of the creature sniff at the back of her neck and she braced herself for death.
Nothing happened for a long moment and Hella's quiet mind scared her more than the creature sniffing at her neck. It moved away from her but she didn't relax. Where were they?
She couldn't spend the rest of her life here wondering at the unnerving silence so she crouched slowly and touched the ground with her fingertips. Dirt. In her mind's eye, she could see it, rich brown dirt like the garden planters at home and at Hogwarts. She breathed deeper, less afraid. She could smell the soil under her feet.
She could also smell spellfire, the sulphur and burnt ozone that accompanied hexes and curses. After another long moment, she could just pick up the sound of running water. A babbling stream like the one that ran behind Rowle Rock and separated the estate proper with the mausoleum and graveyard. She took a cautionary step in the direction of the water. The creature that had scared her so much before did not seem to notice her movement.
She took a second step and a third, all the while listening to everything around her.
It took her a very long time before she reached the stream. If it was the stream she was thinking about, it would be easy enough to just walk through it. She dipped her fingers into the stream. The cool water rushed over her fingers and calmed her more. She had explored the grounds of Rowle Rock so often as a child, she could almost see the landscape in her head. The sound of the running water eased her in the absence of voices.
She moved slowly, carefully stepping into the stream. She felt it rushing around her feet, her ankles. Hella took another step and another and another but the water never rose higher than her ankles nor did she find the other bank. She continued to try, step by step until she tired of walking. She decided to follow the stream and turned left, knowing that if she turned right she would come to an outcropping of rocks.
She followed the stream until she came to the corner of the graveyard where the fence met the stream. It was taller than she remembered. She could not reach the top and as soon as she lifted a foot to climb the creature behind her snarled and she heard the shuffling of its feet on the leaf-littered ground.
Hearing it snarl reminded her of her fear and she sat in the corner and leaned back against the fence. She stared out into the darkness and waited. Sleep nor dawn came.
She stood again and instead of trying to climb the fence, followed it to the next corner. She turned and followed the front of the fence, knowing that if she truly was in the graveyard, she would approach the gate soon and would be free to leave that way.
Slow steps took her all the way across the front of the graveyard to the next corner. How could that be? Where was the gate? She retraced her steps, following the metal fence with her hand as she made each step. The gate was gone.
She made one last attempt to feel for the gate in the pitch blackness surrounding her and did not find it. She knew the last corner of the graveyard where the stream and fence met was inclined sharply and she wondered if she would be able to climb over the fence there.
It took her an immeasurable amount of time to move from the corner to the ledge over the stream. The fence never dipped or changed in any way and when she had climbed onto the outcropping of rocks and stood in the tallest part of the graveyard behind her family's house she waited.
She finally sat down and pondered her situation. She had lost her sight. The others were gone. She neither hungered or tired. She was trapped in the Rowle graveyard with a creature that terrified her in the middle.
Was she dead?
How had she died? She had no recollection of death.
She stood up again to listen. This unending silence would drive her mad, it would be much more tolerable if she had no awareness at all and the creature in the middle, the thing she feared so entirely, might be her solace. She was not a Gryffindor, she was not brave.
She was a Hufflepuff, steadfast in her aims. She would face the creature and let it do to her what it wanted; she could not imagine this continued existence for eternity. She could see the layout of the graveyard in her mind's eye even as it was still completely dark to her eyes. She hopped down from the ledge, felt calmed and reassured by the babbling of the stream and strode towards the centre. She knew the most recent graves would be near the centre... if only she could make it to her own grave, if she were dead, then she would know.
She reached out and her hand brushed the cold stone. She let her fingers slide over the front, feeling each dip and curve as she read the letters with by touch. This was Borghildr, shield-maiden, ultimate grandmother. Hella was bolstered by her plan, Borghildr would help her battle the creature if she needed to.
She moved from stone to stone, moving forward in time with each one. The creature snarled the closer she came to where her name, her grave, would be. At last, she reached a stone that did not feel as pitted by the weather. Her fingers traced the flowers craved along the top and she knew this stone. There was no need to feel for a name. This was Ellisif, her mother.
She took a step, reverent in stepping over her mother's grave and there was a wash of heat over her face and the loudest, deepest growl a creature could give.
Chills raced up Hella's spine and fear dug its claws deep in her gut. She could smell the rancid breath of the creature as it stared her in the face. She knew it did, even if she could not see. Just as she knew it was standing on her bed in death.
"I have to know," she said allowed, both to herself and the creature. Her ragged breath mixed with that of the creature in front of her. Her hands shook as she reached out.
The first brush of something under her fingers was mirrored onto her. She felt human hair, stringy like her own, under her fingers just as something touched her own hair near her ear. She let her fingers move down slightly, touching skin, jaw, neck and felt the same touch on her own skin. With a jerk, she pulled her hand back and the touch on her neck left as well.
There was an inhuman snarl that heightened Hella's fear to the point that her heart felt like it was going to beat out of her chest and she reached out, but down, for a headstone. Stone brushed her fingertips but then she lost her balance and fell forward toward the creature with human hair, toward the grave where she thought she might belong. She fell.
She did not stop falling.