The Book of the Earth: Part 2

"Volga..."

"Can you hear me?"

"We need your help..."

Volga heard the girl's voice in her head once again, but all she could see was darkness. She found her voice and tried to speak in English in the dream-like state, which proved harder than she thought.

"S-stop talking to me! You're scaring me!"

The voice's tone became more urgent. "Volga! You must listen to me-"

She did not know what came next, as she awakened suddenly, sitting straight up. She was covered in a cold sweat and breathing hard. Her heart was pounding in her chest. She looked over at the clock on the wall. It was 2:47 AM. Volga cast her eyes to the window to observe the moonlight, before turning her eyes back to the wall where the icon was displayed. The moonlight reflected on the gems decorating the icon somewhat, she noticed. After a few moments, she sunk back down, pulling the covers over her and falling back into a thankfully dreamless sleep free of any voices.


Every Sunday, the Tserkovnyuk family would walk into the town of Hnivan and attend the Divine Liturgy at the St. Paraskeva Cathedral. Church was always the most important event of the week for them, and they believed that nothing, not even the worst situation could stop them from attending. The only people that didn't come along were Volga's great-grandparents and Svetlana's parents, Olha and Hrhoriy Tserkovnyuk. They were very old, in their late nineties, and could only walk short distances at a time, so the one-and-half-mile walk to the cathedral was too much for them. They preferred to worship in the icon room, and a local priest would come to the house and perform the Liturgy for them.

Svetlana, Izabella, Vera, and Volga were making their way back from town, walking on a path that cut through the fields. It was another picture-perfect day, but this time there were no clouds, just a perfect backdrop of blue sky. The four were dressed in nice, neat, church-going clothes, which meant ankle-length skirts, high necks, and long sleeves. They also all wore head-coverings, which was customary for women entering a place of worship. Izabella, Vera, and Volga had been wearing simple white scarves edged with lace that draped around the head and shoulders, although Volga had removed hers and was holding it in her hands. Svetlana wore a floral square scarf knotted under her chin, typical for older Ukrainian ladies.

As they walked, they chatted about how lovely the Liturgy was and how amazing God's glory was. Everyone was in a good mood until Izabella noticed Vera squinting up at something in the sky with an unfathomable look on her face.

"Vera, мила, what's wrong, what are you looking at?" Izabella asked, frowning.

Vera's eyes were wide in fear and her mouth was open in an expression of confusion.

"Ravens..." she murmured quietly, but with fear in the words.

Sure enough, there were three jet-black ravens circling above them. The ravens let out a chilling caw before swooping down at the four.

"No! Shoo!" Svetlana cried out, waving her arms around in a futile attempt to scare the birds off. One raven sunk its claws into her headscarf, and she began to squeal. Another raven attacked Izabella, seemingly tangled in her hair as she shrieked loudly. Vera flailed around wildly as another clawed and pecked at her, her eyes clenched shut and her mouth open in a wail.

Volga was the only one who wasn't being attacked, and her eyes darted around, looking for something, someone that could help. She eyed the path, and noticed many small stones strewn about. She began to gather up the stones, holding a small handful, and with her other hand she grabbed a single stone and launched it at the raven attacking Svetlana.

The stone hit the raven squarely, and with a loud squawk and a puff of black feathers, the raven fell to the ground. Svetlana, upon realizing that she was no longer under attack, sighed in relief and adjusted her headscarf. However, Vera and Izabella were still being attacked. Volga flung a stone at the raven clawing at Izabella, striking it and causing it to drop to the ground. She then hurled a stone at Vera's raven, and it tumbled to the ground.

They were panting, and their eyes were darting around, looking at each other with a did that just happen expression. After a few minutes of silence, Svetlana spoke.

"Volga! How... how did you do that?"

Volga shrugged, but she had a somewhat astonished expression on her face as well. "Babusya, I don't know... I just had a feeling... maybe it was luck... a miracle."

"Yes, a miracle, certainly..." Svetlana murmured.

Izabella suddenly spoke up. "We should get out of here before more come. There might be stray dogs around... or even snakes. Old Lev Kondratyuk, he was attacked by a snake while working in his fields the other day! He was okay, but how terrifying!"

"SNAKES?" Vera yelped, her voice growing in pitch.

"Yes! You heard that right! Snakes! Come, let's keep going!"

The four resumed walking, this time at a faster pace than prior. Volga kept looking back- and she noticed that the dead ravens were gone. Had they been dead... or was there something more sinister happening?

Somehow she knew that something was deeply wrong. It was all around her- she wasn't sure how to describe the feeling, but it was extremely unsettling. A chill went through her body and Volga decided to stop looking back, even though she had the unpleasant feeling that someone... no, something was watching... or following her.

"The Devil..." she whispered, fear in her tone. With a tight swallow, she picked up her pace. The whole situation becoming very strange and frightening.


Later that day, after lunch, Volga was looking through a box of old black-and-white photographs. She was doing this in an attempt to get her mind off of the strange events that happened earlier after church. There were many interesting old photographs- many images of family members and relatives, images of the house, and wedding portraits. One of her favorite images so far was a photograph of Svetlana as a girl with her older sisters and female family members. They were all wearing old-fashioned dresses, tall boots, and floral headscarves, except for Svetlana, who was thirteen years old at the time. She wore a simple black dress with a white collar that looked like a school uniform, and she did not wear a head-covering. She showed this photograph to Svetlana, and she smiled and laughed.

"Yes... I remember that day. It was my first day of high school. The photographer came to take a family photo, and I didn't have time to change out of my school clothes. So there I am, sticking out amongst everyone else!"

Volga continued combing through the photographs in the box, After some time, she thought she had seen all of them- until she saw a small, yellowed pocket-style envelope. It looked quite old. Lifting the flap, she gently withdrew a small, delicate sepia-toned photograph. She held it up close, frowning as she analyzed the person in the image. It was a girl- maybe about sixteen years old. She was wearing a long black skirt, a very archaic-looking white blouse, and her dark hair was long and styled nicely. She had a pretty face, even if she wasn't exactly smiling. Her eyes looked kind and intelligent at the same time. It was a professionally done portrait, based on the painted backdrop and the posing. On the reverse side, "1900" was written in faded pencil.

"Babusya," Volga called, "Who is this? I found this photograph... I don't recognize her at all..."

Svetlana padded over, smiling. However, her smile faded when Volga showed her the little photograph. Her face paled and her mouth was set in a tight line.

"Volga... go ask my father. He... he'll tell you." she said, her voice weak and uncertain. A strange, cold feeling washed over Volga. What had she stumbled into now?

She quietly stepped into the sitting room, and walked over to the large, ornately upholstered chair that Svetlana's father, Hryhoriy, was sitting in. He was ninety-nine years old, extremely pale, thin, and frail, nearly blind, and his hair was completely white. In his bony, pallid hands, he held a vervytsya, a type of prayer rope used by Orthodox Christians. He was in prayer, murmuring the Jesus Prayer over and over as his fingers ran over the knots of the rope. She stopped when she saw him praying, not wanting to interrupt him, but he noticed her and glanced up.

"Yes, Volga?" Hryhoriy asked in a quiet voice.

"Pradidus," she said softly, handing the photograph to him. "Babusya told me to ask you about this photograph... she said you would explain. Who is it?"

Hryhoriy balanced a pair of thick-lensed glasses on the end of his nose, and then held the photograph close to his face, squinting. When he saw what he was really looking at, his eyes grew wide and he took a sharp breath inward. Volga could have sworn she saw the glimmer of tears.

"Now, Volga, listen to me very carefully," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm going to tell you a story."

That's when Volga knew she would be there for a while, so she sat in the chair next to him.

"That girl... that girl in the picture... that's my eldest sister. Her name was Mariya... she was born in 1885. I only ever met her a few times, and even then, I was very young, so I don't remember well," he paused, and took a breath. "She was the favorite... very religious... I'm told she loved God and Christ and the Mother of God with all her heart. She even considered joining the monastic life as a nun... she wanted to dedicate her life to Christ and spend her time praying and writing religious icons."

He took a pause, before resuming speaking. "Although, when she was fifteen, she met a young man... he was nineteen. His name was Georgiy Afanasyevich Volkov. He wasn't Ukrainian... he was Russian, born in Vladivostok, in the Far East. He was a writer and journalist. I believe he had come to Hnivan looking for work, and he was working with the paper. He saw her painting a picture of some carnations in the park, and he was struck by her talent... and, as it will become apparent, her beauty as well."

Volga was very curious about where this story was going to go. It had been quite interesting so far.

Hryhoriy continued speaking. "Georgiy was able to get her a position as an artist for the paper. She was very excited at the prospect of working with the paper, and working with him. Later on, she designed the cover of his novel. I actually read the novel later on... he was quite a talented writer."

"Well, this project drew them close, and he asked for her hand in marriage. My parents were very hesitant at first- considering he had come from far away and the fact he was Russian... but he was an Orthodox Christian. That was enough for them. So they let her, and they married in 1903. She took his last name, and became Mariya Volkova."

"It sounds like a nice story," Volga murmured. Hryhoriy looked at her with sadness in his eyes.

"Georgiy and Mariya moved away, to Kiev. They always sent letters and visited sometimes, though. Mariya gave birth to a son named Ivan in 1904, and she had another child named Kirill in 1905. Based on the letters, they were very happy, and he was doing very well with his work," He took a deep breath, and then his expression darkened somewhat. "Until 1906. Then we didn't hear from either of them for two years. My parents were horrified. They had no idea what happened- they even sent someone to Kiev to check on them, and they said that there was no one at the house- not even the children."

Volga's eyes widened, and her mouth formed a surprised O. "What happened to them?"

"We had no idea- until 1908. Around 2 years after they disappeared. We decided to all go to their house in Kiev- and, to our surprise, Georgiy, Ivan, and Kirill were there- but not Mariya. We were heartbroken. Georgiy looked absolutely distraught. He told a terrifying story- strange things were happening by a particular hill, so him, Mariya, and the children went to go investigate. Georgiy said that there was a strange pins-and-needles sensation, and a sulphur smell- and then they blacked out!"

Now the story was getting quite interesting.

"He said that they awoke in a very strange place- like nothing he'd ever seen before! He wondered if he was in the Heavenly Kingdom- but then he saw the... creatures that surrounded them. They were not angels- they were devils! Georgiy said that they had a vaguely human form, but it was clear to see that they were abominations. They were over two-and-a-half-meters tall, were incredibly thin, and white as snow. Their arms and legs were unnaturally long and tapered- he said that they had no hands or feet."

Volga looked on in horror. "Pradidus, that's so scary!"

He nodded in agreement. "That's not all, either. I was already frightened, considering I was only eight years old at the time. He said that they did not have any sort of mouth, or even a nose. They did have large, misshapen ears that pointed upwards on the top of their heads," He took a deep breath. "He said that he knew that they were devils when he saw that they had horns by their ears, and that they had long, thick tails that tapered to a point, and ended with some sort of blade. Their eyes were red as blood and sunken. I wasn't really afraid until he showed his drawing of one of them- I had nightmares for years because of it."

Volga's face was frozen in a frightened, if captivated look. "That's... I don't even know what to say..."

"It's unfathomable, isn't it? Well, Georgiy told us that he was given the offer to study their powers. The... the... devils had strange powers. They could manipulate fire, water, air, earth, lightning- they could heal instantly and make themselves immune to damage with the powers. They had powers that only God should have. Georgiy... he... he gave into temptation. He took the offer to study their powers. However, Georgiy had said, in exchange, Mariya was forced to raise a very young creature as her own child. She was horrified- she knew that these beings were abominations against God. Yet, she did it. She gave in. Georgiy told us the name of the creature... he wrote it on the paper. I don't remember what it was, but it was a strange name that didn't sound right in our language."

Volga was having a hard time believing what she was hearing, but Hryhoriy would never lie.

"Georgiy said they lived in that... place for two years. He spent all that time studying the powers of the devils. However, he said that after a while, he had enough. He wanted to go back home. He tried to rescue Mariya... but the devils would not let her go. He says that the last he saw of Mariya was that she was crying and holding the young devil in her arms. He said he was able to get Ivan and Kirill... but he was heartbroken. He believed that he failed God. Although he did bring the books that belonged to the devils that explained their powers. He wanted to continue studying."

"At that point my father was growing very angry. I remember he said to Georgiy, 'I thought we could trust you! But... but... you, you bastard, were in cohorts with devils! You gave up your faith, you gave into temptation! You left my daughter to the devils! Damn you to hell!' Then, Georgiy flew into a rage, and we could have sworn a bolt of lightning shot from his hands and towards my father! He avoided it, and it caused a great scorch on the wall. My mother began to scream at him, she called him a devil, said that he had become Satan. We left quickly after that."

"We never heard from Georgiy and his sons ever again. I'm told that later on, he was shunned for practicing the occult, and he ultimately immigrated to America with Ivan and Kirill. That means that there is a very high possibility that we have American family members. Although, Georgiy probably passed on his demonic practices to them as well... I pray that we will never meet them."

Tears ran down Hryhoriy's face, and he removed his glasses and wept quietly, resuming his praying. Volga backed away, a look of shock on her face. She turned and ran back to Svetlana.

"Did he tell you the story?" she asked.

Volga nodded quickly. "Oh, it was the most awful thing I've ever heard! They really saw devils... that's so frightening. They just gave into temptation... from actual devils!"

"It's a terrible thing. No one would have thought that they'd turn their backs on God, and they did. That's why we're raised like this... because we want to love God and Christ. We do not want to suffer in the eternal fires of Hell. Why don't you go pray in the icon room? I think it'll make you feel better."

Volga silently agreed, and turned away. She looked down at the photograph of Mariya, at that pretty face. She felt sad and horrified about what happened to her. Slipping the photo back into the envelope, she gingerly placed it in the box and replaced the lid, and placed it gently back in one of the cabinets.

Once again, she felt as if something was watching her.