Disclaimer: Special chapter wrote by my good and talented friend Callie as
a request by me.
It was night - an early June night, to be exact.
The small village and its inhabitants were asleep, nestled in the peaceful valley in which it had been situated for over 400 years. A river ran through the centre, separating one side, of houses, and the fields and barns where the townsfolk grew their food and went about other necessary tasks; such as cultivating crops.
Each house looked similar, small, sweet and thatched. A patch of grass surrounded each one, with flowers sprouting from beneath leaded windows. The flowers were in full bloom at this time of the season, gracing the green grass with their vivid presence.
A light breeze blew through the valley, rustling leaves on trees and making the crops waver. Freshly grass, sea salt and cool night air could be smelt. Dew was already starting to cover the ground, like a damp rug.
For all the beauty though, an eerie silence permeated the town. No birds sung in the apple trees of the orchard, no foxes could be caught rustling the bushes for something to eat. Only the gentle swish of the quiet river, flowing down to the large expanse that was the sea, could be heard. And even that seemed quietened.
The townsfolk were scared, for tonight was the night, that she would walk. They were hidden in their rooms, with candles and fires, flames everywhere. The children were tucked away, asleep. Whilst the parents watched from windows if they dared.
Suddenly, there was a loud uproar from the forest, and a great cloud of birds flew from the tree's, escaping the scene in the woods below. Dogs suddenly started barking, their fur standing on end, and their tails thwapping against the nearest objects. The cats they used in the mill to chase away mice, dashed to the window, their ears flattened, and hissing madly. Horses whinnied, spooked.
Deep in the forest, stood a woman. A woman who was tall and thin, with spindly arms and legs, walking down from the hilltop. Her face was long, and deep eyes were set back in her face. Her skin seemed tightly stretched across the bones, and she looked gaunt, frightened. She had long, waist length hair, which was perfectly straight.
The woman wouldn't have been that bad looking, if it wasn't for her eyes. They were green, viciously so. Strangely haunting. They had too big and too black pupils.
Though, that wasn't the weirdest thing about her. When she opened those pale lids, anything she laid eyes on, withered instantly – lifeless. Flowers, trees, birds that hadn't the sense to run; all dead.
The body of a small sparrow lay on the ground. She rested her gaze on it, making the flesh disintegrate, leaving only the raw bones exposed.
Silently, swiftly, she made her way down to the village.
To feed.
It was night - an early June night, to be exact.
The small village and its inhabitants were asleep, nestled in the peaceful valley in which it had been situated for over 400 years. A river ran through the centre, separating one side, of houses, and the fields and barns where the townsfolk grew their food and went about other necessary tasks; such as cultivating crops.
Each house looked similar, small, sweet and thatched. A patch of grass surrounded each one, with flowers sprouting from beneath leaded windows. The flowers were in full bloom at this time of the season, gracing the green grass with their vivid presence.
A light breeze blew through the valley, rustling leaves on trees and making the crops waver. Freshly grass, sea salt and cool night air could be smelt. Dew was already starting to cover the ground, like a damp rug.
For all the beauty though, an eerie silence permeated the town. No birds sung in the apple trees of the orchard, no foxes could be caught rustling the bushes for something to eat. Only the gentle swish of the quiet river, flowing down to the large expanse that was the sea, could be heard. And even that seemed quietened.
The townsfolk were scared, for tonight was the night, that she would walk. They were hidden in their rooms, with candles and fires, flames everywhere. The children were tucked away, asleep. Whilst the parents watched from windows if they dared.
Suddenly, there was a loud uproar from the forest, and a great cloud of birds flew from the tree's, escaping the scene in the woods below. Dogs suddenly started barking, their fur standing on end, and their tails thwapping against the nearest objects. The cats they used in the mill to chase away mice, dashed to the window, their ears flattened, and hissing madly. Horses whinnied, spooked.
Deep in the forest, stood a woman. A woman who was tall and thin, with spindly arms and legs, walking down from the hilltop. Her face was long, and deep eyes were set back in her face. Her skin seemed tightly stretched across the bones, and she looked gaunt, frightened. She had long, waist length hair, which was perfectly straight.
The woman wouldn't have been that bad looking, if it wasn't for her eyes. They were green, viciously so. Strangely haunting. They had too big and too black pupils.
Though, that wasn't the weirdest thing about her. When she opened those pale lids, anything she laid eyes on, withered instantly – lifeless. Flowers, trees, birds that hadn't the sense to run; all dead.
The body of a small sparrow lay on the ground. She rested her gaze on it, making the flesh disintegrate, leaving only the raw bones exposed.
Silently, swiftly, she made her way down to the village.
To feed.