5.
Amelia was fixated on the wooden rod of the parasol in her hand. She spun it around and around in her palm, feeling the satisfaction of the light friction against her fingers and gazing at the lightshow in the shadows beneath her as the sun peered through that rapidly spinning lacey dome.
"Are you enjoying yourself, my dear? If I'd known it would fascinate you so, I'd have saved the money from the delicatessen and the theatre exclusively for bumbershoots."
The spinning parasol rolled to a halt. Amelia blinked and sputtered noiselessly. She felt as though she had just awoken from a dream, or, more accurately, had been jarred from a nightmare. She had been dashing through the woods in utter terror for some reason that was altogether unimaginable now. No doubt presiding on the curious logic that dictates all our actions in the lands of slumber. How curiously we accept the absurd as reality and move forth without question in those wonderful dramas our wandering minds conjure. She had to take stock of where she was in piecemeal, for she could not shake that imagined confusion of sudden awakening.
The sun was beating down upon her without hindrance of cloud or leaf; diluted only by the laced parasol that now swung limply against her shoulder. She was wearing an absolutely stunning promenade dress of shining emerald and black. An elaborate bonnet with layers of ribbon and feathers was tied around her chin, perched slightly askew atop her neatly-styled black-and-white hair. A glistening shawl was wrapped flowingly over her open petticoat and tightly-fit corset cover. The shawl draped downwards over the copious garniture that adorned her bustle, which led to the untold layers of silken finery that flowed over her legs to the ground below. She wore leather gloves upon her hands and could feel leather boots up nearly to her knees. There was dust all around her, spinning up through the breeze from the open thoroughfare on which she stood, but her attire was spotless and pristine to a degree that was almost unnatural. She felt at home in this attire; the empowering kinship one feels with clothing that compliments the attributes and traits of personality they wish to express to the world about them. When Amelia saw herself in these resplendent adornments, the confident and positive part of her mind seemed to say This is how I'm supposed to look. But a bitter and disgusted voice seemed to be echoing from deep within the corners of her mind. No it damn well isn't, it responded. And you damn well know it.
There was movement all about her, but it all blurred and muted in a way she couldn't explain. She reached up with her free hand to rub her eyes and only then realized that there was another arm intertwined lovingly at the elbow with hers.
"My dear? I only jest. Are you quite all right?"
The pale man stood beside her. He was dressed almost exclusively in black, and his cleanliness and elegance of attire was equal to her own. He wore a tailcoat and tophat that were so dark they were void of detail. His eyes were hidden behind ruby sunglasses and he carried a parasol upright with an unshaking hand. Unlike hers, there was no lacework through which the sun may pierce. It was an opaque black hole swirling above him, and it cast him in a cone of undisputed shadow. Her eyes widened as she took in his personage. Had she not been running from this man? Why did she feel such a deep and distant hatred stir within herself when she looked at him. Her immediate senses told her to trust this kindly individual. Her instincts told her to flee for her life. There was something inexplicably terrible about this walking shadow trespassing upon the domain of the sun.
He saw the horror upon her face and brought down the parasol. It folded up as its tip struck into the sand at their feet. He was not wearing black at all, but various shades of gray and blue. He was pale, yes, but not deathly so. The sun reflected warmly off his skin and as his spectacles slid just so down the bridge of his nose she could see an equal warmth in the green eyes revealed behind them. Her dress was the same color.
"I am sorry if this all a bit too much; but I oh so wanted you to see this place!" His arm slid back through hers until their hands met. He grasped hers and spun her around gently so he could take up her other hand as well. She dropped the parasol and it landed in the dust beside her.
"I know you are confused. Anyone would be in such a land of strange wonders; but your mind is a very special one, my dear. We must give it all the time it needs to adjust. But you are in good company for it. This is the only place in this whole world where the likes of you and I could find ourselves in good company. Look around you."
She did. And no mind on earth would have been prepared to take it all in.They were standing in the thoroughfare of a booming town. Beyond them and the swarming crowd moving all about them were the stands and tents of local artisans. And beyond them were the never-ending rows of beautifully adorned and decorated storefronts. Each shop was freshly painted, and most had little gardens in their windowsills or walkways that burst with a myriad of colors. Amelia could hear merchants in every direction cheerfully shouting promises of miraculous merchandise and the fascinated inquiries of mesmerized onlookers being shouted in return. There was a massive ogre made of marvelous marble-like stone stomping past them with a wheelbarrow full of shining purple rocks and a sign that read "Troll Soap for Sale". A green-skinned woman with reading spectacles and measuring tape draped around her shoulders was showcasing fabulous dresses and suits that were hanging in display from levitating broomsticks. Three drunken gargoyles were laughing hysterically from the complete shade of a tavern porch at two of their party who were frozen in stone, mid-retch, in the sun just beyond. An acrobat troupe, all with pointed ears and silver hair, were throwing each other into the air in dazzling spins and twirls that defied gravity. Two skeletons were haggling over the price of a toothbrush. A man made of swirling purple clouds and seemingly emanating from a tiny brass chalice was offering fortune readings from a carpeted tent that was itself floating above the ground. A human-sized arachnid in a bowtie was hammering a swinging sign into place above a storefront. It read "Longleg's Mercantile" in crisp, hand-painted yellow letters. In every direction were a dozen stories playing out, and each of them odder and more fantastical than the last.
Amelia felt a panic overtake her as she tried to process everything around her. It was too much. There were too many new ideas and things she couldn't explain and her head felt it would rupture under the strain of making sense of it all. She shut her eyes and tried to shake loose from the pale man's grip. He held tight, but gently so.
"You are not accustomed to crowds, and certainly not a crowd such as this. But they are good, I promise you. They are friends."
Amelia tried to speak but… but found that she couldn't. She didn't know the words. Had she forgotten them or never learned them to begin with? Why couldn't she think clearly? It was like trying to remember things she had not yet done. She clenched her eyelids tighter and struggled to voice her frustration but only a pleading half-formed moan came from her lips.
"Will you do something for me, my friend? Listen. You don't have to look, but just breathe deep and listen."
She did. At first it was more overwhelming than what her eyes had taken in. She heard the laughter of children as they ran by and the scuffing of their shoes kicking up dirt as they passed. She heard the roaring of some great beast far in the distance. There was the jingle of bicycles and the braying of horses. She heard glasses clink together, food being chewed and laughter bursting all around. Then, cutting through everything else like light clearing away darkness, there was something new. It was divine. It was rapturous, earth-moving, and soul-forming. It was as if someone had taken all the chaos of the world and molded it into its purest and most valuable form.
It was music.
Amelia felt tears come to her eyes and couldn't stop herself from gently pulling her hands away from the pale man and raising them towards the source of that oh-too-wonderful sound. Her hands waved and grasped at the air, as if she could snatch up the melody and take it home with her as a treasured pet.
Yes, she thought. This was the first. The very first time I ever heard music. Wait… why am I thinking like that? How am I forming thoughts when I cannot form words? Have… have I been here before?
The pale man circled back around into her view. "That is very good. Do you enjoy the music? I do too. Come this way." He placed his hand softly against the base of her spine and she felt no shiver as a result. As they moved forward the bustling crowd that had been flooding from every direction all seemed to recall business they had elsewhere at the same moment. They all changed direction in a precise way that cleared a path through the maelstrom in a perfect line going forward.
Like a tunnel in the trees…
At the end of the path before them was a large board-constructed stage, with a crude stairwell going up to it from the dirt and a dusty podium tottering in its corner. A banner tied to posts behind the stage bellowed in the breeze but its brightly painted inscription was still plainly legible: "The Hallowed Weed Has Taken Root!" A slimy man in a three piece suit with a watch chain dangling from his massive belly was standing proudly behind the podium with his perspiring fists clenched on his lapel. His ear to ear grin was framed by what Amelia thought was a beard but was actually wriggling tentacles. Behind him was the choir. One composed entirely of children.
There were maybe two dozen of them. Some had horns sprouting from their foreheads. Others had the long ears and crooked features of goblin-kind. Two were twins with black eyes and jet white hair. Amelia saw one that was positively reptilian, covered in scales and swinging an actual tail, no less. Several of the children were transparent, flickering in and out of the scene like a lightbulb in its dying moments of servitude. All of them were beautiful. The sight of them all with their radiant smiles and the sound of the heavenly singing that they carried to Amelia's ears were more lovely than any she had experienced in her brief time. She stood there amongst the crowd with her mouth agape and her hands clasped over her heart.
"Listen to them." said the pale man as he snuggled up against her. "What music children make." He wrapped his arms around her waist and brought his head against hers. That momentary revulsion echoed from deep within her once more. But there was another sensation coursing through her that was anything but unpleasant. "What a day of first times this is proving to be for you. So many new things you've seen and experienced. Who knows on what new ground we may plant our flag next?" Amelia thought at first he was whispering in her ear, but his head was too low. His chin was touching her collarbone and his mouth was by her neck. "If I'm not mistaken, this is your first time seeing children, yes?"
Still no words would come. She could only grunt and nod her head forward. It was all the effort she could manage. She was too enraptured with the choir.
"Would you like to meet them?"
She whirled around in jubilance with excitement radiating off of her. She nodded enthusiastically and vigorously patted the pale man on his arms and elbows. A guttural repetition of "uh uh uh" sounded from her in pleading.
"Now now, my dear. Don't ever beg. For anything. We are better than that, yes?"
She nodded, but confusedly so. Suddenly the gorgeous music came to a close and the explosive applause of the crowd began. Amelia looked around and saw all those about her clapping their hands together. She didn't understand the gesture, but had to try it out for herself. She beat her hands together and cried along with their joyous hurrays and hurraws with an unmelodic "hhhuuaaaww!" of her own. The applause died down, and she didn't stop clapping herself until the pale man kindly clasped her hand and gave her a knowing smile. The tentacle-faced man in the nice suit was gesturing to the children and saying something in a strange tongue that Amelia couldn't understand. "Wgnurgl fhakotn eylworgl hul sovtfu…" and a parade of similiar sounding nonsense flowed from that tentacled maw to more applause from the crowd. After a final round or clapping, in which Amelia enthusiastically participated, the occupants of the stage finally began to descend amidst the dispersing audience.
The pale man was scanning each member of the choir as they came bouncing down the steps. He at last pointed to a little girl and beckoned her with, "You, my child: Come. Here."
The little one gave a moment's hesitation then shambled her way over to them. Her head hung crooked on her shoulders and her bruised body was arched in a similar fashion. She had to drag one leg behind her as she strode over.
"Hello, mister; missus. Did you like our singing? Were we good?"
"It was excellent, my dear." declared the pale man. "Out of this whole crowd none were more swept up than the two of us. Wouldn't you agree, my dear?"
Amelia knelt down and took the girl's hands in her own and began to tremble. She stuttered and shivered. She pushed until her lungs were fit to burst and her brain was hammering within her skull. She had to shut her eyes in concentration and her whole body shook with effort.
"B-b-b-Bllloooffferrr…"
The child cocked her head in perplexion. The pale man was awe-struck. He stood for a moment with eyes wide and emitted a single dumbfounded gasp.
"That… That is very very good!" he said, wrapping his hands around Amelia's shoulders. He shook them in celebratory fashion and looked to the girl. "She said that your performance was 'beautiful', my child. The girl giggled in response and shook her chubby little fists in the air.
"Thank you thank you! We've all been practicing so hard!" she squealed. She leapt forward and hugged Amelia around the neck. Amelia wrapped her arms around the girl and squeezed her tightly. She wished she too could sing with the angelic grace of the little one she held, for words alone could not capture the intense happiness she felt in that moment. It was a joy the likes of which she had not yet experienced. Yet there was something… similar that she could hazily recall. The warmth of the child's embrace stirred a vague memory in the recesses of her mind. The pale man loomed above them as they held each other, a slight twitch persisting at the corner of his smile.
"Tell me, little one, what is your name?"
The child loosened her grip on Amelia and stood up as straight as her twisted form would allow. "Maria, good sir. And what may I call you and the lady?"
"Why, just that. I am Good Sir, and she is the Lady. Do you live here in Hallowed Weeds, Lady Maria? Or are you visiting, as are we?"
"Oh I live here, sir, with the other children. You should stay here yourselves! It's wonderful here!" Maria was speaking to them both, but it was Amelia she was directly addressing. The child had needed that warm hug as much as Amelia had, who now bristled with excitement. She turned from her crouched position and playfully patted the pale man's legs. When she had his attention she began a vigorous pantomime, holding an empty grasped hand before her mouth and licking the air.
The pale man chuckled. "Yes, we did get ice cream earlier." His attention darted between the two women, first watching Amelia's exaggerated gestures and then translating them to Maria. Amelia wafted an imagined aroma into her nostrils, and the pale man described the salted pork he had bought her for lunch. She sprang to her feet and did a clumsy dance that nearly landed her on her backside. Maria giggled with delight as the pale man described the vaudeville performance they witnessed at the town's showhall. She indicated her dress and spun around in a circle and he told of the long, long process of trying on dresses for the first time. Maria was delighted by all of this, and when Amelia took her hand once more and began to lead her into the crowd she sprang at the opportunity to go with her.
"Now now, ladies," interrupted the pale man before they could escape into the shops and stalls. Each looked equally disappointed. "Surely Lady Maria here needs to return to her family. They must be eager to congratulate her for her part in that most wonderful ensemble!"
"Well sir," she said shyly, shuffling her feet. "My only family are the other children. We… we're from the orphanage, sir. Mayor Marsh says it's the first of its kind… for kids such as us."
Amelia's mouth opened in a sorrowful gasp. She was about to take Maria in her arms once more when she felt the pale man's hand land and then tighten upon her shoulder. His grip had turned cold. "Orphanage, you say? I am so very sorry. What befell your parents, if I may ask?"
"They're fine, I suppose. Somewhere. You see, I… I died, sir. Drowned, so I've been told; whilst I… was at play. My momma and poppa were awful sad, so my poppa used some old magic from Calamity Wood to… well… to bring me back. Only he didn't love me no more after that. He was scared of me. Called me a…" She scrunched up her face in concentration. "'Abdomination'. That was the word, I think."
Abomination. The joy left Amelia's face and her eyes lost all their luster. She knew that word well. She had been named one herself.
Maria sensed her sadness and placed her tiny hand under Amelia's lowered head. As she lifted it up by the chin, she shuddered slightly when she felt the stitches that ran along there. She did not draw away, but gently rubbed her fingers along Amelia's jaw, tracing the bumpy spider web of thick black thread that ran underneath. Amelia could feel the child truly seeing her now. Her pale skin. Her dark eyes. The purple veins that blotched her skin like cracks in porcelain. Maria gave a smile of recognition and asked, "Are you like me?"
Amelia could only stare, questioning.
"Did someone… bring you back?"
Amelia heard the crackle of thunder, despite the sunny afternoon all around her. She began to see flashes of memories. Things from before. Her head started to pound and she gritted her teeth in pain. "I- I'm sorry!" cried Maria. "I didn't mean to upset you!" She began to dig desperately for something in the pocket of her dress.
The pale man suddenly stood between the two, and he quickly pulled Amelia to her feet as she rubbed her temples.
"Forgive the lady, dear Maria. So overcome is she at the loveliness of your sweet song. We must be away, but I hope you, and all the other children, find what you so truly deserve here in Hallowed Weed."
"Wait, please!" cried the girl as she tried to pull something from her pocket with her broken, crooked fingers.
But the Good Sir had already led the Lady away into the indiscernible jumble of the crowd, and they vanished as if into mist. Maria stood in the swirling dust with a small white lily drooping between her fingers. She had plucked it from the garden in front of town hall before their performance and kept it stashed away. She had truly wanted to give it to that sweet, sad lady, hoping it would make her feel better.
But now she never would.
Amelia felt she would be sick. The kaleidoscopic picture-show in her head was flashing between shattered thoughts faster than she could make sense of them. She saw herself slipping on a pair of arm-length white gloves. Laughing at a naughty joke in hushed concealment with her best friend. Strolling along a cliffside with waves crashing below and the endless allure of the ocean stretching away before her. There was one memory of her preparing herself for an evening about, gazing lazily into a large mirror as she combed her hair; but she did not recognize the blonde, petite creature on the other side of the reflection.
Lastly she saw herself strolling through a moonlit garden. There was wind in her hair and her white gown billowed like the sail of a ship all about her. She could practically feel that gentle breeze now, rushing all about her. She felt the tickle of cold gravel underneath her bare feet and heard the chirrup of crickets all about. And she felt a weight in her arms. A soft bouncing thing with rosy cheeks and delicate curls.
A child.
She'd had a child.
Maria was not the first she had embraced.
She was gagging then, and when she finally stirred from those forced recollections she was sat upon a bench with the pale man devotedly watching by her side. She shook with sweat, and found herself looking in every direction for Maria. No, not Maria. That sweet one was not hers but dammit she could not recall the name of the one who was. She looked to the pale man with strained desperation and mimed as best she could how she held the infant in that cursed flash of memory, arms raised before her chest with hands cupped about where its little head would have lied. Not yours not yours not yours screamed that wretched voice from the back of her mind.
"You… remember having a child?" he asked. Amelia nodded furiously. She clenched her fists and struck repeatedly against her chest. The motion was clear to him. Mine. It was mine.
The pale man became very reserved. He leaned back against the back of the bench and let out a long sigh. Before them was a wine shop. Vines covered the entirety of the facade excluding the shop windows that were packed with displays of intricately stacked bottles. Their silver and gold labels twinkled in the sunlight passing through the window. A hand-painted sign read in elegant calligraphy "The Crimson Fountain". The pale man's attention was locked onto that sign.
"I have not been forthcoming with you, my friend. Not entirely. I apologize, but I had wanted you to… enjoy yourself. For a little, at least." Amelia stared at him with eyes that went from pleading to frustration. His never left the sign hanging above that rustic little store. "I did not bring you to Hallowed Weeds for the ice cream parlors and the street entertainers. There is a new sort of trade starting here. One that I think will become very important in the days to come. One that concerns you a great deal."
She punched him hard in the shoulder. He turned with a start and an almost comical look of surprise was written on his face. Amelia had no humor in her then though. She could not even remember if the child she had held was a boy or a girl and this man was sitting here withholding information from her. It was her life and she demanded it back this instant and her pain was more important than some booze-maker's signpost. Don't, said that maddening voice at the back of her mind. Only now it spoke calmly. Lovingly. Pleadingly.
Don't look deeper, you poor nameless thing. I beg of you, leave now. Don't follow his twisted designs.
Nameless? What do you mean 'nameless'? My name is… It's Amelia. Isn't it?
No. It isn't. You haven't chosen that name yet. And, I am so very sorry, but you will endure horrors of unimaginable number before you do.
"Again, I apologize." said the pale man, and he turned his body where it sat to face her entirely. "What do you remember of your death?"
No memories flashed painfully here. Her head didn't throb nor did her frame shake. These memories did not need to come rushing back. They were always there. They were there the moment she was born and they lingered every time she closed her eyes.
She trusted that the cold fire in her eyes properly conveyed this.
"Something is changing for us. I can taste it in the air. How long have we, all of us," he said gesturing around himself to the ever-flowing crowd, "suffered in the shadow? How long have we wasted away in swamps and tombs and shattered battlements and just accepted that that was enough for broken cursed things such as ourselves? How many live here in mighty Calamity Wood because the world beyond has always kept the door locked to them? But now we have a taste. And it is glorious."
Amelia ran through the gauntlet of days she had experienced in the short time since her birth. Excluding only today, she would wipe them all from her mind without hesitation if she could.
"Those precious babes upon the stage? Each and every one of them are here for the same reason as you and I: the humans. Humans abandoned them. Humans slaughtered their families. Humans chased them away from the light into the cold dark of the Wood. And the good people here have reached the limits of their tolerance for humanity."
He stood up and raised her beside him with interlocked hands. "I have seen your capacity for kindness, my friend. I have this day witnessed your potential for beauty, love, and tenderness. But now I need to see your capacity for something else entirely. Come with me."
She did not resist as he led her against the flow of traffic away from the main thoroughfair, but an undeniable sense of unease had come over her. The dark thoughts in her mind were complimented by the rapidly dissolving crowd and increasingly sinister appearance of the town around her. As they moved further and further down side roads away from the main street, Amelia saw a degradation in the friendly atmosphere that had made Hallowed Weeds seem such an impossible oasis. Instead of bakeries and tailors she now saw weapon forges and voodoo parlors. Potted greeneries became piles of refuse. Hand-painted shop signs were naught but piles of skulls upon the doorframe. Pleasant window displays were replaced by iron bars and padlocked doors. The aroma of scented candles and honeyed meats died and a pungent odor of rot and bile swept in. Someone was screaming in the distance.
Amelia felt eyes upon her. The individuals loitering in the dark corners and alleyways were leering at her. Their red eyes and clattering teeth seemed to follow her the farther she went along. Some hissed. Others began to follow along her step, with wicked smiles and long fingers bared.
The pale man stopped in his tracks for a moment. Just a moment. He cracked his neck with a slight twist of his head. At this, every onlooking passerby scattered away back into the dark alleys like cockroaches and vanished from sight. Amelia was shaken by this strange uniformity of behavior, but had no time to ponder before the pale man continued his march towards the back of the street. He came at last to a dilapidated brick building with no windows and a lone iron door. A fence ten feet high branched off from the building in both directions and wrapped around to connect in a circle somewhere beyond. It must have been a stable or stockade of some kind, but there was so sign or advertisement of any kind to indicate such. The only marking at all was a smearing of dark red above the closed doorway. Amelia pointed at the streak and grunted in question.
"Oh, that? That's the blood of the lamb, my dear. So God knows to pass over this house." he said with a knowing grin, satisfied at a joke he had no intention of explaining. He stepped forth before the iron door. He did not knock. Almost instantly it creaked open with the screeching of rust and a shabby noseless ghoul in a moth-eaten suit emerged from the space within.
"M-M-M…" He seemed to be re-thinking his choice of words as he nervously beheld Amelia standing behind the Pale Man. "Mister. Please, enter freely." He moved to the side to allow them passage. The pale man turned and took Amelia's hand in his open palm in regal fashion. Then they went inside.
The building itself was a small office of the most ramshackle quality. Papers and notes were piled on an uneven desk that was more a block of wood than anything carved with an effort towards presentation. On the other side of the room was an area Amelia assumed must be some sort of open bath, due to its sloped, tiled floors with drainage grates embedded within. However she could not see any water pipes or faucets. There were sets of chains and manacles bolted into the wall however. She hated the sight of chains. The loose bills and other documents on the desk were scattering and turning upwards from the draft coming in through the back side of the building. There was no wall here, it simply opened up wide into the pen formed by the circular fence outside. Amelia's eyes narrowed as she approached that bright gaping entryway. Then they opened wide in full shock.
Humans. The stockade was packed to bursting with humans. Perhaps two dozen in total. Some were interconnected with chains bound to their legs that were staked into the muddy flooring. Others were leaning against the bars of thin rusted cages that did not offer enough room to sit down. Others were not bound in any way, but were lying in their own mess, too emaciated to stand. Amelia's hands covered her mouth. Every one of them were caked in mud and filth, long baked dry against their skin by the harsh bearing down of the sun. Their skin wriggled from the maggots taking up residency there. Many were naked, and none were dressed in more than a repurposed potato sack. Amelia turned to again look at the ghoul that had welcomed them. His suit was clearly not tailored for him. She glared at the pale man, letting her hands fall into clenched fists by her side. He gave a bastardly grin in response.
"Shall I introduce you? I'm familiar with the entire catalog of merchandise. I should be, as I have a claim in this establishment, amongst others." He ignored her obvious fury and strolled into the open pen. He did not need to step over any of the human captives. They all crawled and scrambled to keep their distance from him. He came to an old woman who was mumbling something repeatedly under her breath. Her glossy eyes wavered within her skull. "This one was capturing fairies, tearing off their wings and stuffing them into bottles. She sold her screaming captives to other humans as charms for 'good luck'." His charming aloofness quickly gave way to a hostile cynicism. An animal aggression was tearing through his elegant demeanor. He turned and moved over to one of the free-standing cages, casually leaning his arm against the bars. "This one was a 'Man of God'. He led his flock to slaughter a community of peaceful lycans, cursing them as being 'hounds of the devil'. The irony was that no devil of any order had anything to do with them. Their entire village was devout."
Amelia stood in place, shaking in rage and conflict. She bit her lip and felt blood running from where her nails dug into her palm. The pale man continued to circle the pen, pointing from person to person as nonchalantly as one selecting groceries. "This one was a self proclaimed 'monster slayer', but he never slew anything above the age of five. This one burned down the house of her neighbor, but blamed it on local witches. This one butchered succubi to made leather of their skin." He was growing increasingly more aggressive as he continued. "That one shattered gargoyles whilst stone during the day. That one trapped sprits within a holy circle that he might torture them for the location of treasures they ammassed in life. That one stomped a nest of dragon eggs, wiping out an entire generation. Here's one that poisoned the waters where mer-folk dwelled and another that would summon ghouls from their graves just so he could carve into their undying flesh for his own amusement! Do you understand? For amusement?!" He glared at Amelia and she could not bring herself to meet his eyes. She was revolted in every way at the treatment of these people. But the things they had done… and to people like her…
He spun in place and marched over to the farthest point of the yard, next to a small shack that connected the backside of the fence. He crouched down on his heels next to a man covered in flies and bound by his neck to the fencepost. "And here! Here is a man who tried to do the unimaginable to his own daughter! A child! And when she resisted, he tossed her tiny body in the river!" He grabbed the throat of the chained man and squeezed so hard Amelia could see mud and filth bubbling out through his fingers. He lifted the man from his slack position on the ground as he shouted in his face, but the man barely responded. He only gulped and stared blankly into the sky. His mind was too far gone.
"And when his guilt and his shame became too much, he slithered into Calamity Wood, and he took her little corpse with him. Maybe he buried her in sacred ground? Maybe one of the crones took pity on his lies and did the deed for him? But whatever happened, his little one was returned."
Maria…
"And this pox-eaten maggot farm of a human being, having his daughter unjustly returned to him, decided she no longer suited his lecherous gaze. So he tried to kill her once more. Her twisted shape and the broken limbs you saw were not the result of necromancy. Rather the 'loving embrace' of her dear old da!"
Amelia marched over and struck the man straight in the teeth. She collapsed into the mud and gunk and began pummeling at his near lifeless form. She pounded at his chest with a rage that was beyond her control. Not the first, and certainly not the last. She stared into that bloated bloodied maw and saw more than one face staring back at her. To be honest, she barely even saw the man she was actually beating. Finally she struck his open and broken mouth once more and screamed,
"WWWHHHHHYYYYYYY?"
Her chin sank into her heaving chest and she grabbed at the sides of her head. His barely breathing body sank back down into the mire and settled. She cried and panted, and sank into herself. The other humans were hugging the fence to be as far away from her as their strength would allow. The pale man shuffled over and sat down in the mud next to her, wrapping his arms around her. His touch was still cold, but soothingly so.
"I do not know why, my friend. In my many years upon this earth I have never found cause for humankind's penchant toward sheer cruelty. It is a part of their very being, perhaps. I used to think it a flaw from their creator, but now I am not so sure it wasn't intended. God and all his ilk will do anything in the pursuit of amusement. Do you feel guilt for what you have just done?"
She kept her head held down, locked between clenched hands; but nodded yes.
"And that makes you better than the lot of them. It is not cruelty to punish evil. It is not wicked to protect yourself, or others. It is survival. And more than anything, we two…" He cupped her face in his hands and lifted it up so they could see one another entirely. "We survive."
He stood up in silence. There he remained in patience until she was ready to join him. She looked once more past his now muddied pants and shoes at the creature behind him oozing blood with every wheezing breath. This husk of a man was less than human. All the foul disgusting souls in this pit above hell were. She hated herself for it, but a thought so pure and true was singing within her as she looked around at their frightened, ruined faces:
Abominations.
She slowly shambled to her feet and stood with a strange feeling of shame and nakedness before the pale man. After a few seconds of hesitation as she sniffled and shuffled she lunged forward and embraced him fully. He hugged her tenderly in return. They rocked in place and he brought his lips to her ear. "You did not kill this man. You showed restraint. But you don't have to. None of us should have to. We should all have the right to survive." His fingers brushed the side of her face and curled her loosened hair around them.
She wanted more than anything to accept this. To believe in her heart that monsters like them deserve such humiliation and torture. Could she take a life? She felt that she could. Likely easily. Perhaps it wouldn't even be her first… But she could not inflict suffering; nor could she stand by as others inflicted suffering. She did not wish to share her pain with the world. She waved her hand about them to all the prisoners and shook her head with sad resignation at the pale man. He looked at her with a mixture of adoration and remorse, nodded in understanding, and slowly stepped away.
With great solemnity he walked over to the bolted door of the little shack at yard's end. The structure was leaning to the side and smelled of rot. An undeniably ominous energy radiated from its isolated secrecy. He placed his hand on the bolt and drew it back, letting the door creak open by a sliver. "I wished to deliver all four unto you. For this I must apologize yet again. One was killed. And I assure you, it was in my own defense."
He opened the door.
The moment of her death was like a picture of another life overlaid atop her own. With every new discovery and every new experience came the constant reminder that she had already had and lost it all before. The person she was before was known to her only in desperately-grasped fragments. Glimpses of a luxurious life. Of inconsequential days and boisterous nights. Of her closest friend. Her lovers. Her child…
She drug her feet through the mud in a rigid stagger towards the door.
More vivid and more complete than any other recollection though is the moment of her murder. Every new memory only adds to its detail. Every clue ties back in context to that horrendous finale. Only now can she fully realize the child that was present. The two of them comfortably nestled in bed, exhausted from a day of feasting and galavanting. The child's drowsy confusion turning to horrified shock as the shadows of four figures swept across them.
She walked through the doorway into the looming shack, watching her shadow stretch ahead of her onto the figures within.
Four of them came forward with hammers and blades. The child ran screaming from her bed, but Amelia was cornered before she could follow. They pushed her down and cursed her. They stabbed her. They slashed her. Amelia could vividly recall the blood splattering the white linen of her bedgown and the taste of something profane in her mouth. Her memory ended as the oldest member of their group, a gray-haired bastard in spectacles, leaned over her with his stinking breath and brought the final slash of his blade to her throat.
That same but now white-haired bastard was now staring back at her. His broken spectacles sat askant on his nose and his mouth was bound with a rag. Next to him were two middle-aged men, also bound and gagged but wriggling about on the floor. Amelia knew both from her recurring nightmare. They were identical in every aspect except for the profound horror that now blazed across their faces. One was a thin, sweating worm of a man. An academic. The other had smooth, pink skin and a posture that suggested nobility. The older one was harder to read. Unlike the others, he sat calmly and reservedly. His eyes were studying her and there was no fear within them. He might have been a conman, a lawman, or a man of God.
She thought she would once again be shaking with rage. That she would be breathing hard and losing rational thought to bestial savagery. But her hatred ran far colder than that. These men had taken everything from her. She didn't even truly know the extent of what they had stolen from her. They'd robbed her not only of her future but her past as well. She was the empty husk they had carved out. Whatever woman she was, they'd reduced her to a nameless corpse. She had come back, yes, but known only hate and misery in every moment since. Until she met the pale man.
He loomed in the shadows next to the open door behind her. When he spoke, she could feel his voice like fingers on the back of her neck. "I'm going to ask you a question, and then I will say no more. I would like you to answer me. I believe you can. A simple yes or no will be enough." His voice sounded… older. Not elderly, but ancient.
"What I have done, what I have started here with these humans who would degrade and violate and slaughter us… Is it deserved?"
Now she began to shake. Her teeth ground and her knuckles cracked from the tension in her balled fists. The academic was shaking his quivering head side to side. The noble was pleadingly shouting the same unintelligible word again and again behind his gag. The old man was glaring at the pale man with a contempt that rivaled her own.
For the third and final time that day, Amelia spoke.
The pale man shut the door of the shack behind them.
The screaming started shortly thereafter.