Somehow his assurance that he will be here rings hollow. There have been many who have said the same thing and lied. Even I have been guilty of the same. As I am sitting there contemplating the possibility of my own death, I hear a scream. It’s Liv. I left her back at her mother’s grave. What if what is going to kill me gets to her too. I spring to my feet, a new sense of urgency overcoming me. The fear is dispelled with concern for her and my only thought now is to get to her.
“Don’t go,” he says. “I can’t protect you.”
“You can’t protect me anyway and I can’t leave her,” I say. I run up the path toward her, not knowing what I would see. I pause slightly to glance back. The stranger is gone.
Chapter 8
I top the crest of the hill and see Liv lying on her back, inching away from something. As I follow the trail down the hill, a figure emerges from the darkness, walking toward Liv along the ground, belly dragging in the dirt. Its movements are rhythmic, back and forth, like a snake’s slither—only this is not a snake. As it comes closer, it breaks from the shadows, or at least I think it does. In some ways, it seems to be taking shape as it enters the veiled light of dusk. It has a long snout followed by scruffy hair with ears flexed back along its head, which is drooped along the floor. It stops half in shadow, half out. I can see now that it is a large black dog, though what breed, I can’t tell.
It slowly lifts its head, revealing its eyes. They are not the eyes of a dog. They’re red, glowing like hot embers in a bath of ash. Its teeth stand erect, bare and white. A low rumbling growl comes from deep within its throat, a sign of its intentions. I push Liv behind me and together we inch back along the path, our feet uncertain in the dark terrain where roots slither about us. The hound follows in a slow methodical walk, its haunches quiver and tail flicks back and forth, eager to lunge at any moment.
I rush down to Liv’s side. Taking her by the arm, I try to heave her from the ground, but her attention is too involved with the hound. Our breaths are shallow and erratic and roll out in fine mists against the frigid coldness that embraces us. I place myself between Liv and the dog. “I should have listened,” Liv says, her voice quivering. “I should have listened to my mother.”
I pull Liv back away from the creature. “It’s just a dog. Probably just the caretaker’s dog or something,” I say, unable to remove my eyes from the creature. This is of course a lie to give Liv some comfort, as a caretaker’s dog does not have flaming red eyes.
“It’s the shadow people that live in the forest,” Liv says.
“What?” I don’t know what she means by the shadow people, but I do not have time for her to explain. The dog makes a short sudden jerk in the direction of my leg with its snout, and lets out a low yelp. I jump back, nearly knocking Liv on the ground.
As I look over my shoulder to see if she is okay, the hound finds its opportunity. It lunges and pushes me over, bringing its full weight on me. Dazed, I press my hands against its neck and jowls. The hound barks and growls ferociously at me, slapping streams of saliva down my arms. I’m terrified. My arms can barely push it back and are quickly losing their strength.
Just as I think I’m about to give in to its furry, a thud across the dogs body knocks it over onto the ground. Liv stands above me, holding out a hand, a rusted bar in her other hand (the remnants of what was a small gate). I scramble to my feet, but even as I do, I notice the hound is already back up, ready to lunge again.
It’s then that I notice along the ridge above, more eyes peering from the darkness. At least five more dogs appear as if to emerge from the ground itself. Liv and I back away slowly as the dogs make quick darts back and forth along the ridge, their eyes watching us constantly. A voice screams in my head, but not my own. It is the stranger’s voice and says only one thing: RUN.
Taking the bar form Liv’s hand, I throw it in the hopes of wounding the hound in the front, but it darts back, allowing the bar to hit the ground in front of it, kicking dirt up. Still this is enough of a distraction and we use it to escape. Scurrying up the bank of the hill, I pull Liv along behind me. Deeper into the forest we head, running, stumbling, but still running—never stopping.
My hope is that the beast will eventually give up the chase or we will find something to climb where it can’t get at us. In either case, my only real instinct is to run and not stop. In the moment a thought comes, the farther we get into the forest, the less likely we are to find our way back. But this is only a momentary thought as my only real motivation is to escape.
I can hear the pounding of the hounds’ paws and the panting of their breath behind us. The sound of a howl echoes between the trees around us, making it seem that the dogs are everywhere. Soon it is not possible to know where we are running or whether the hounds are closing in or not. There is only the sound of the snarling and growls of the dogs. As we press further into the darkness the sounds become more distant. After we have run in silence for several minutes, Liv pulls back, dropping to the ground onto her knees, her head low. “I can’t go any farther,” she says in short wispy bursts of air between strained inhalations. “I can’t breathe.”
Turning back, I take her by the arm and try to drag her to her feet, but she refuses to budge. I struggle against her dead weight nonetheless. “Come on,” I say as I heave her off the ground only to have her fall back. “We can’t stop.”
“It’s no use,” she says, weakly. She has given up. “Go. Leave me.”
Her words only make me angry and I struggle harder against her resistance. “I’m not leaving you. I won’t leave you to die. Not again.” The realization of what I just said causes me to stop. Not again.
I drop down beside her, angry, but too exhausted to do anything. It’s happening again, I say to myself. Though in a way, it’s an angry plea to God. Don’t do this. Not again. I am crying hysterically by this time, as I think back to my foster sister. “Why?” I cry out loud, then start again into sobs.
Liv pulls herself up to me. Sitting beside me, she puts her arms around me. “It’s going to be okay,” she says, quietly. “Listen.”
I settle my crying long enough to listen. The forest is quiet. “It’s gone,” she says. “We’re going to be alright.” The calmness in her face is reassuring.
She hugs me, burying her head in my neck and we sit for a long time like that in the darkness of the forest. I can feel her tears against me. When her breathing becomes regular, I decide it’s time to get up and find our way back to the road. But before we can stand, I notice movement among the shadows. Only this time it isn’t something in the shadows moving. It’s the shadows themselves—morphing into figures, standing upright. Figures without faces, without eyes, yet you know they are watching you as they sway their ethereal bodies back and forth.
They surround us. Their bodies slink from side to side as they glide across the ground, coming closer and closer. I squeeze more tightly to Liv. I don’t want her to see what’s coming, but I think she can sense there is something wrong.
She lifts her head and looks up at me as if to question. I say nothing, but press my hands against her face, trying to keep her eyes focused on me, but it’s no use. She looks to the corner of her eye and by her reaction I know she sees them. Her body is shaking and her eyes have that empty look of terror. “I’m sorry,” I say, pulling her back and pressing her head against my shoulder. I lay my head on hers and whisper, “I’m sorry I couldn’t save you.” Then I close my eyes.
In the darkness of my mind, I can only hear the heaviness of my breath. One breath. Two breaths. Three breaths…nothing. I begin to think they are gone. Is it possible to cast out the boogie man by simply closing your eyes? That is not the way of life…my last breath falls and I dare not look.
With an inhuman force, Liv and I are ripped apart, thrown in separate directions across the clearing. “Liv,” I begin to scream out, but my breath is knocked from me as I slam against the ground. A darkness hovers over me, pressing me downward. I can’t speak or even breathe
. I try to lift my head to see if Liv is okay, that uncertainty kills me more than anything. I look around the clearing, fighting against the force. There are trees and something like a rock face in the distance, but in the moment I can’t make out what it is. Looking toward my feet I can barely see Liv, but an unseen hand bashes my head back down hard against a tree branch.
I scream out again to Liv, but there is no answer. I can hear her struggling in the distance though and this assures me that she is still there, alive. I try again to pull my head up, but it is again forced against the ground. My only view is upwards, through the trees that scrape across the hovering moon. A dark mist swirls into the shape of a head and shoulders of a figure. It seems to be looking at me, almost studying me. It makes jerking motions back and forth over me. But not like a man would, its neck seems to bend too much. More like a snake.
Then it speaks, though it has no mouth. Its speech is lispy, like a hiss. It says, “Speak not the words.” Other voices from around me join in. “Mustn’t speak the words.”
Under the strain of the invisible weight, I breathe shallow wheezing breaths. They’re enough to keep me conscious. But I struggle to form them into words, let alone, cry out, which is what I want to do. “What,” I say in a weak, raspy, whisper. “What do you want?”
“Mustn’t speak the words, mother,” the voice says again, this time referring to me as mother. “Not the words.” “Not the words.” “Not the words.” The others echo in.
“What words,” I breathe.
“Mother’s words,” it replies. “We keep you from speaking the Mother words.”
“No words.” “No words.” “No words.” The others again echo.
“I don’t know any words,” I say, mustering strength. “Let us go.”
“No more speaking,” the figure says. It’s voice trailing off in a long exaggerated hiss. It cocks its head and the pressing becomes stronger. I begin to scream out, but they press on my throat and nothing comes. I can’t breathe. I struggle more, but without breath I only tire faster. Soon my body is unable to move—unable to resist. Despite my brain screaming at my body to breathe, it has given in and I lay still. My vision begins to narrow. I can feel the blood pounding in my temples and I know that it won’t be long before I lose consciousness.
The only thing I can think of is that Liv is going to die because of me. I shouldn’t have come with her. I shouldn’t have put her in this danger. Then a distant memory, clouded in pain comes to mind. It’s my foster sister. She is in her little night gown, carrying her worn and ragged rabbit. The way she always did when she came to my room, scared of the boogie men, both imaginary and real. She looks up at me, her eyes full of fright. She wants to come with me but she can’t. And I can’t stay with her. There is hurt in her voice as she asks, “Why did you leave me?”
“I didn’t want to,” I plea.
She does not seem satisfied with this, bowing her head, sadly. “Why didn’t you take me with you,” she says.
“I wanted to take you with me, but I couldn’t. They wouldn’t let me.
Looking up again, this time with a dark anger, she screams, “You lied to me. You said you’d come back for me. You said you’d come back.”
Then the darkness encloses. I call out to her, but there is no response. The darkness has overtaken everything. Only despair remains. In that moment I have one last thought—a plea to the invisible God I have hated for so long. Help me. It’s then that the light comes.
Faint at first, like the flickering of a flame, then brighter and brighter as it throbs outward from some unseen source. The light breaks the darkness like the rising of the sun breaks the night. The dark figure looks toward the light in fear as its brilliance dissolves the creature away, and with it, the weight on my chest. They seem to scatter back toward the rock face, disappearing into the darkness.
I breathe in deeply, and immediately my deprived body soaks in the desired oxygen. A feeling of relief spreads over me and the fear is dispelled. Rising up on my side, my head spins and vision blurs. Dazed, head pounding, I try to stand, but I am still weak. A hand helps me up. It’s Liv. She draws me up to my feet and steadies me.
“What happened?” I ask, still incoherent. “That light. Was that you?”
“No,” Liv says. “It was him.” She points to the middle of the clearing. There, sitting hunched over in a carved out crater, is a man. From his back extend white iridescent wings. They fall over him, dissolving into a thin white shroud glistening in the moonlight. Other than the shroud covering him, he is naked.
“Who is he?” I ask, turning to Liv.
She shakes her head. “I don’t know.”
A groan comes from him and he lifts his head toward us. His eyes are bright, emanating an intense white light, which slowly fades, revealing his face. It’s the stranger. He lifts slowly off the ground, trying to stand, but his legs are unsteady. He staggers to the side before swooping toward me. Reflexively, I hold out my hands to catch him, but from my earlier encounters with him I do not expect anything of substance to hold to. However, his weight pushes against me, nearly dragging me to the ground. Liv puts her arm under him to help me hold him up. It’s then that I realize he is not an apparition or figment of my imagination. He is real, living and breathing.
Before dropping completely into unconsciousness, he looks up, but not at me. His expression is mournful as if his whole soul is racked with guilt. In a weak, unsteady voice, he says, “Forgive me, I have fallen.”
Chapter 9
Liv and I help him to his feet; the shroud clings closely to him, still glistening as if it’s emanating its own light. “Are you hurt?” I ask. He seems incoherent. Still, he is able to shake his head, indicating he is not hurt.
“I am just weak,” he says in a quiet raspy voice.
“Where did you come from?” Liv asks. But he doesn’t respond.
“Maybe we should get him back to town,” I say, trying to distract her from the obvious truth that he is an angel, a truth I can’t deny anymore. Well, at least I’m not crazy.
The woods are dense and we’re afraid of going back the way we came, for fear that we might run into the hounds again. The angel may be able to fend off some shadows, but I don’t think he is in any shape to fight off a pack of demonic dingoes. We wander in the darkness with only the slight light of the angel’s shroud to light our way. As we walk along, he seems to regain some of his strength, making his steps more sure. Still, he does not talk, and only follows our movements. His head lumbers on his shoulders, swinging from side to side with each stride. His eyes open partially, but then close again, slipping away into some sort of semi-consciousness.
“I think we’re lost,” Liv says. Her voice reflects her nervousness.
“We’ll find a main road eventually,” I say.
“How do you know? How do you know we’re even walking in the direction of town?”
“We’re going downhill,” I say, trying to sound convincing like I know what I am talking about. “When we ran from the dogs, we ran up hill.” The fact is, we’re lost, and I know it. And the odds of us finding a main road or any road at all, is slim to none. Our only hope is that the angel might regain enough consciousness that he will be able to help us find our way back. That is, if the hounds don’t get us first.
“I can’t carry him anymore,” Liv says. “We have to take a break.”
Seeing Liv’s little frame tucked under the angel’s arm, I am surprised she is able to carry his weight at all. “We’ll take a break then,” I say. We slowly lay the angel down and sit on the ground next to him. Liv is looking up at the sky above fractured by the jetting pines. Stars dot the expanse. I have never seen so many. In contrast to the darkness around us, they are like flickering candles. It is quiet with the exception of the breeze blowing in the unseen bows of the trees.
“I had heard the townspeople talk about the shadow people here and there, when they thought I wasn’t listening,” Liv says, “But I thought they were ju
st a town myth. You know how people can be. Superstitious and all.”
“Who are the shadow people?” I ask.
“I don’t really know,” Liv says. “I’ve heard some townspeople say that they had seen them in the woods after dark. We were always encouraged to stay out of the woods, especially after night fall. I just figured that they didn’t want us getting lost.” She peers at me through the darkness. “You don’t think they’ll come back for us do you,” tears glistening in her eyes, reflecting the light around them.
Angel Realms Page 9
