Dark Winter: Trilogy

by Hennessy, John

  When you find yourself wanting to look away from the evil happening in front of you, but unable to, that is when real evil, real fear, has found you.

  Whether this was really happening or not, fear had found me. I felt afraid. I could smell burning, but could do little about that. It meant only one thing – that the demon inside me was reasserting its position. Coming to Gorswood Forest, or more accurately; allowing the East of Gorswood Forest to come to us, meant that it could attack us with more ease than ever before.

  The man, of course, was Curie. It wasn’t going to be anyone else, it could not be anyone else. This time, I was seeing a vision not from the future, but from the past. Why was I seeing this now?

  Curie had broken into the room, closed the door behind him, and took a look at the bed. The couple were sleeping, and had no idea what was about to happen to them. He looked back at the door, checked it was locked, then poured what looked like white spirit around the frame of the door. From his coat he produced a cigarette lighter.

  Grinning, he set the door ablaze.

  I could view the nightmare as it unfolded, the one Beth was spared from viewing, but had to endure the after effects for the rest of her life. I hope my parents died quickly. The pain and terror Beth’s parents had to endure in their final moments; I cannot imagine how awful that must have been.

  I actually had the presence of mind to think about what I was seeing. Or maybe it was that the demon was allowing me to see this. Wanting me to see this.

  Why? I already felt sympathetic towards Beth’s situation. Any human would. The poor girl had been through a lot.

  The demon wanted me to see it. He wanted me to know that he could inflict other people’s suffering on me, and make it my own.

  He was winning. I could not see Beth, I was as far away from the destination on that map than I had ever been.

  I was alone in the woods.

  There and then, I decided to stop running.

  ***

  As she ran, the little white gold crucifix bobbed gently on Beth’s chest. She had been running non-stop for what seemed like miles, the journey made far more difficult on the uneven terrain, not to mention wraith-like hands that grabbed at her hair, pulling it, trying to stop her from reaching her destination.

  Twisted roots could for the most part be seen, but where the leaves had fallen heaviest from the Autumn, one mis-placed step would mean your leg could be twisted awkwardly, and the fall, most severe. The woods would claim you, and you would never be seen again.

  Even though he knew the woods well, it happened to Curie. That’s when he had first encountered the demon Dana. I didn’t want to think about what we would encounter here, and I was pretty sure the reasoning behind Beth’s frantic running was simple – she didn’t want to think about them either.

  For all her fears about heading towards East Gorswood last time, Beth knew that at least she had Tori-Suzanne on her side. This time, she had me, but it wasn’t me. It was the woods, tricking her into thinking it was.

  The real me was lost, and some considerable distance behind her. My evil replacement was a good enough likeness of me, and yet Beth wasn’t about to fall for it. For one thing, my demonic decoy was now keeping up with Beth.

  “Good, Romilly, you’re keeping up now. I thought I’d lost you back there.”

  “I am fine.”

  It seemed demon Romilly was going to keep her words brief. If only I could warn her.

  Don’t trust her, Beth. And if you see Toril, the woods own version or the real version, don’t trust her. Don’t trust a witch.

  But Beth did trust a witch. She believed Tori-Suzanne was a good soul, even if she was at odds with her beliefs. Ergo, she would trust Toril.

  Don’t do it Beth. Last time, you thought it was Toril, but it was a demon possessing her, reaching into your chest and damaging your heart forever. You do remember it, don’t you?

  The running came to a sickening, stuttering halt as Beth’s chest and throat filled with blood, and ejected at force onto the birch tree nearest to her left. She put out her hand to stop herself from falling forward.

  My evil twin did not stop to help her, merely asking her was she okay.

  It sounded like me, moved like me, looked like me. Yet even in Beth’s mind, something wasn’t quite right about the situation. Would she figure it out in time?

  “I’ll be alright,” said Beth. “I’ve lived with this for long enough now.”

  “I will go on ahead,” I replied. Didn’t reply. I wasn’t even there.

  Beth followed, but at a distance. Sometimes my copy would turn her head and smile back at Beth. It's not something I would do, not in these circumstances, and Beth somehow recognised the deception.

  She had to play along for the moment.

  Whatever was walking in front of her could strike her dead. I knew it, and so did she.

  Because some miles behind her, the real me was facing a similar predicament.

  ***

  The woods often took on a more menacing look as the Autumn folded and made way for Winter. That hadn’t been a source of frustration in the past; I was younger then, and perhaps I thought, incorrectly, I might add – that being scared was all part of growing up.

  It wasn’t.

  I couldn’t see what was surrounding me, but it felt similar to that feeling at the old priory. The trees pointed their branches down towards me, leafy fingers accusing me of all sorts of things. What it all meant, I did not know. Howls of wind burst through the sky and through the trees. I felt echoes all around, and finally, a tinny sound in my ears.

  Something wanted to stop us getting to our final destination. Maybe it just wanted to stop us from linking up with Toril.

  It was succeeding.

  Behind me, darkness closed in to such a degree that I could not see anything behind me. It was literally pitch-black. Ahead, there was only one path to take. A narrow one. The ground in front of me had flattened.

  We had done something similar in kung fu class. We would take steps on the path in front of us, trying not to disturb the elements underneath our feet. Some of us would succeed, most of us would fail.

  I was actually the first to navigate it successfully. Everyone before me had walked ahead, one step at a time, and when they looked back, first to the teacher, who was shaking his head, and then, towards the floor; they knew the result before seeing it with their own eyes.

  The ground had been disturbed.

  Some of us had protested, saying it had not been a fair test or appraisal of our abilities. It was only rice paper after all. Some of the bigger students who weighed more than twice my body weight were more vocal in their discord.

  The whole place was hushed into silence when I had completed my walk. I had executed it differently to them. I walked backwards, I turned, I shifted my weight from one knee to the other, allowing the other leg to become extremely light, easy to lift, and most important of all – to place.

  I had not damaged the rice paper, not even slightly. I was pretty pleased with myself, because I didn’t glide like Toril, nor bounce like Beth. I had a clunky, uncoordinated walk that seemed to disappear when I would be at kung fu class.

  Back in the forest, the only thing to do was to go forward. The trees on either side of me stood dutifully, with their branches raised high and straight, as if they were trying to say Come on in, it it’ll be just fine. You are welcome to East Gorswood Forest.

  Of course I would be welcome. The evil in the place wanted to extend its cold hand towards anyone foolhardy enough to step within its borders. I jumped as an animal brushed itself by my legs. A mongrel dog with large brown eyes and floppy ears to match. Just when I thought I had made a new friend, it ran off.

  Suddenly, the confidence that had previously accompanied my surefootedness had all but gone.

  I wanted to turn back, I really did, even though I knew retreat was not an option.

  Something or someone put its hands on me, with what felt like the cold,
uncompromising feel of a knife pressing into my back.

  There is Blood to be Spilled:

  Chapter 13

  “Walk five paces ahead, then stop. Do not turn around, or you will die. Do not look as if you are going to turn around, or you will die. Do you understand what I have just said to you? Raise both of your hands slowly if you understand.”

  The voice was unmistakeable, as was the knife. I had no doubt the owner of those words would follow through on his promise.

  The voice belonged to Donald Curie.

  I raised my hands. Slowly.

  The pain was immediate. He possessed more than a simple knife. My right hand took the first shot, and I looked in shock as blood poured from my arm, the left arm dropped involuntarily, but took a shot anyway. At this distance, he could not miss.

  The pain began to subside, but tears stung my cheeks as they fell. I wasn’t that badly hurt.

  “Flesh wounds from an air rifle, Romilly,” said Curie. “I don’t wish to kill you. Yet.”

  He was in charge, and he knew it.

  “Turn around, Romilly. Slowly. Please.”

  I did as he instructed me. This version of Curie was unstoppable. I did not know how to approach this situation, and with my arms and hands in pain, as he had clearly, perhaps luckily hit a nerve, meant I had no way to lift my hands to strike him.

  “Walk backwards towards the third tree to your right, then place your feet together, your hands by your side, and your back to the tree. If you deviate from these instructions, I will kill you. Do you understand? Nod your head forward if you do.”

  I complied with Curie. I wanted to scream, and I wanted to find Beth, but right now, I was scared, cold, hungry, tired and disorientated. Curie didn’t pick fights with those at full strength. He was far too smart for that. Or cowardly. At this point, I didn’t care.

  “Your grandfather built Rosewinter, trying to bend the woods to his will. But the woods answer only a few of our requests. Like mine, for example.”

  He looked upwards to the tree I was standing against, its roots lifted from underneath the earth, and wrapped themselves around my ankles. Another thicker branch moved around my stomach, trapping my arms by the side of my body, and finally, completed its circular motion by reaching my throat.

  I could not move, not even an inch.

  Curie, happy with his work, moved silently towards me, the gleam of that knife being the only light in the darkness.

  “I know you are not scared of me, Romilly. I also know you are not scared of death. But I do know what you are scared of.”

  The woods claims lives, or encourages people to take their own lives. I remembered reading that in one of my father’s newspapers.

  He would reassure me about Rosewinter though, stating that Nothing will ever happen you there, Romilly. It’s our sanctuary, our hiding place when the real world gets too much for us.

  It’s true. Even though I felt scared there sometimes, I believed that was all part of growing up. But I had some of my best moments there, no doubt about that, yet now it was gone, up in flames, and tied to this tree, I too was going to become a permanent fixture in the woods.

  Or just a memory. Something and someone to be forgotten.

  “Pain. Such a simple, short word, don’t you think so Romilly? But you ask anyone, and they’ll tell you, it’s pain that they fear the most. I wish your parents could see you now, see what you haven’t become. I wish your Nan could see you now, and witness how her misplaced faith in you turned out. And I wish Toril and Beth could see you now, but I think you will have died of exposure by the time that they find you. If they can find you."

  “H-how did you find me?”

  Curie laughed, twirling the knife around in his hand. “What can I say, Romilly, except that I’m the man. I get things done. I may have to go through hell to do it, but what’s a couple of lifetimes between friends?”

  My question was weak, his retort was better. Last time he had the better of me, I prayed to someone, anyone, to reach out and help me. Toril had answered that prayer. I don’t think she planned to answer it this time. For all I knew, the Circle had claimed her and would get her to do their bidding. They took the best of our little group and turned her against us.

  “You haven’t…haven’t asked me ab-about the Mirror.”

  “No,” replied Curie. “That’s business for someone else now. My raison d'être right now, is not business but pleasure.”

  Using the knife, he probed at the top of my jeans, sliding the knife under the thick buttons of my coat. As he lifted the blade, and I felt its tip dig uncomfortably into my skin, two of them came away with ease.

  My teeth began to chatter, as the chill from the forest reached my body. He twirled the knife in his hand some more. He was enjoying toying with me, taking his time.

  “Ask me, Romilly. Ask me not to make it that painful for you, and I will. All you have to do, is ask.”

  He smiled that wicked, torturous smile at me, just like I suspect he had done to so many others.

  “Okay. Silent treatment. Fine. I can work with that to loosen your tongue. It seems like whenever you and I try to have a little chat, Romilly, the cat has always got your tongue. How’s this?”

  He tapped the branch that was slowly crushing my windpipe with his finger, before tapping the thicker branch that had wrapped around my waist. I let out a breath, something I had been struggling to do.

  My arms remained numb, bloody and trapped. The demon inside had control of my soul, Curie asserted his control over my body. I knew he would soon administer his special brand of pain on me.

  “You do understand that I cannot free your limbs, Romilly. You would find some way to attack me, I’m sure of that.”

  My emotions, however, were at boiling point. I had come too far to lose now, but there was no way out of it. No way. Curie lifted his knife and turned over the blade. He pointed it at the left side of my body, probing for my kidneys, lungs and heart.

  What did they tell us, again and again in kung fu class? If there is no opportunity to attack, you must create one.

  Whoever said that originally probably wasn’t in my situation, though the purity of the statement could not be denied. Curie had told me he wasn’t going to kill me. But he was harbouring a demon, just as much as I was. There was no telling what he was going to do next.

  He picked at the top button on my jeans. My chest rose up and down, betraying me once more. It was a natural, adrenaline fuelled response to fear. When he had tied me to that table in Redwood, he had brought the axe down. Only for Toril’s timely intervention, he would have succeeded in killing me. But here, deep in the woods, he felt everything was perfect, so he could take his time with me.

  This was going too far. If he wanted to kill me, he should just do it. I didn’t want to be humiliated as well. An image flashed through my mind of one killer who had left the woman naked on the ground, with her body in the shape of a crucifix.

  “I won’t let you touch me,” I spat. “You are not raping me.”

  Curie stopped what he was doing with the knife.

  “Rape? Rape you? Why would I rape you?”

  He must have been offended that I had brought the subject up, because Curie seemed shocked I would say something like that. When I didn’t answer his question, he returned to his old self, pressing the blade just below my left eyelid.

  “I’ll cut your eyes out if you don’t answer me. Now, why would I rape you?”

  “Because you can. Because you have me trapped. Because in a fair fight, you would lose, wouldn’t you?”

  He stepped back to look at me. My jeans, ripped at the top, just showed a hint of my underwear. My coat had been cut to shreds, offering no protection from the elements. I was shaking. I knew it was my body’s way of keeping me warm, but still….my every moment displayed pleasure to Curie, and I hated giving him that.

  “Who is talking about fair, Romilly? I’m surprised at you, I really am. Rape? What an ugly activity. No
, I won’t have any part of that. Besides, if Troy Jackson had actually done you, or any other boy for that matter, why would I want to go in there? You’re flattering yourself. You’re not actually that attractive.”

  He turned around and began to walk away.

  “Tempus fugit, Romilly. Tempus fugit. I really must be going.”

  “You say you’re always going, but you never actually go, do you? Why don’t you go, and never come back?”

  That actually stopped him in his tracks. Either that, or he had something to say. He turned back to face me.

  “You know Romilly, that’s a good question. I have some advice for you, however. Let the woods claim you. Stay dead, this time. No tricks with Mirrors, no witches with spells to save you. Stay. Dead.”