A bright moon shone in the night. For Arthur, having walked for hours aimlessly, it made him realize that everything around him was dark. His mind had been blank for that time and he couldn’t remember what path he had taken. But he knew his name and he knew where he lived. That was enough for him.
Walking along the sidewalk, getting the occasional glance from an annoyed passer-by because of his swaying, almost drunk, walk, he wondered if he really should head home. After all, the night was warm and sweet. A true summer night, in other words. He was even coming up at the park, lying silent in the night.
“Why not?” he mumbled to himself and strayed onto the path leading into the park. He looked at the trees, eerie and mysterious in the darkness. The leaves were silent, untouched by the wind. The fountain, in the middle of the lake, was silent, too. The park was stuck in time, to Arthur’s mind. Frozen.
Arthur often thought too much, just like this. He would let his mind wander for hours on end, coming up with the wildest imaginations his mind was capable of. He could think up a story about anything. But he couldn’t put it down on paper, of course. Then his mind would go blank again. It was one source of frustration in his life that he had never been able to conquer. And yet he still tried. He refused to give up on writing the novel he wanted to publish. He couldn’t let go of that dream. Not for anything.
His thoughts wandering, he realized he had been walking without a purpose again, coming to a standstill at a bench. The reason was beyond him, but he looked around, suddenly alert. There was something in the park, observing him. He hadn’t been aware of it before, but now he could feel the piercing stare in his neck. Chills ran along his back. He didn’t want to be walking in the park anymore. His imagination began to run wild again. The stares looked into his soul, seeing his weak, inner self.
He wiped the sweat from his brow and started walking again, more briskly now. He didn’t want to run, to raise suspicion. His body was screaming at him to get out of there. But he retained his cool, even if he was close to the breaking point.
A horrendous scream broke the silence in the park and he finally broke into a run, ignoring what he had just thought about himself. He didn’t know where it had come from, but he didn’t care. He just ran towards the exit, as fast as his legs carried him.
As he got closer to the lightposts right at the exit, he could see something on the ground. He slowed his approach, starting to sneak. It was still very dark, but the lightposts lit the area up a little around him and allowed him to see. What he saw was white clothing against the dirty ground and white, long hair in a mess, almost crawling along the ground. It was a girl lying there, he realized. Injured and unconscious.
Throwing away his earlier fears of someone, or something, prowling around him in the bushes, he approached her and knelt down. She was breathing, but weakly. The injuries had looked grave from a distance, but up close there only seemed to be scratches, except for a gash on her forehead. He guessed it was what had caused her to collapse. But as to what had caused it, he didn’t want to know.
Throwing a glance over his shoulder he thought for a second, coming to a decision. Slowly bending down, he carefully picked up the girl in his arms and carried her away, towards his home. Why he did it, he didn’t know. But he knew that if he let the girl remain where she was, whatever had injured her would come back for her. He had decided he wouldn’t let that happen.
*****
Dabbing a wet cloth on the girl’s forehead, Arthur was thinking of the park. If there truly was a dangerous creature there, he had to go to the authorities. He didn’t think it was an crazy idea either. He had heard the urban myths of magical creatures sometimes going astray from their natural habitat and entering inhabited areas. This might just be one of them, he had decided.
The girl moaned in discomfort and turned in his bed. He had put her there as soon as they had returned, letting her rest and taking care of her wounds. In the light of his home, however, he had noticed the massive blood stains on her clothing. What he found odd was that the blood didn’t belong to her. It was too much to have come from the gash on her forehead, or any of her other wounds. He figured she had defended herself against whatever had attacked her, wounding it.
Strong lass, he mused and squeezed out the water of the towel, slung it over the chair and stood up.
Might as well get some work done. Not like I’m going to sleep any time soon.
He walked over to his desk and sat down on the old wooden chair. In front of him was the panel, waiting for him. Its blue-ish light filled his face as he placed his fingers on the keyboard. His mind wasn’t blank for once. He glanced at the girl lying on his bed.
Thanks, lass. Seems like you’ve inspired me. Perhaps you’d become my muse if I asked...
He knackered away, watching as the text took form in front of him. The park still scratched at the back of his mind, distracting him. He had been thinking about it for a while and it didn’t add up. The creature. The girl. Maybe it was just his mind playing tricks again. But at least he was writing, inspired by the events that had unfolded.
He shut his eyes and rubbed them, trying to focus. The writing took priority. He could ponder about the events later. The girl was asleep, breathing deeply behind him. He sat in his own little bubble of peace now and let his brain get to work.
*****
The next time he looked up from the screen, two hours had passed. He hadn’t noticed it at all. It was early in the morning, but still somewhat dark outside his windows. He got up from the desk and stretched. His back and neck were aching and he could finally feel sleep beckoning for him. After all, he hadn’t slept for almost two days. Perhaps now he could finally rest. The question was where, as he glanced at the empty bed-
Empty?
The tiredness he had felt quickly retreated and he became alert once again. He had been so focused in his writing that he hadn’t even heard the girl get up.
He looked around, listening intently. She couldn’t have gone far. All of the doors were still closed and the windows seemed untouched. The house itself wasn’t that big either and it didn’t have a lot of hiding places. Sneaking around the corner, he checked the hallway, which was empty. He stepped lightly on the wooden floor in the hall, towards the kitchen. As he approached the door frame he grasped it and peered inside. His search didn’t last long.
She was in there, swaying lightly back and forth. She had her back to him and he could hear a soft hum coming from the girl’s lips, but he didn’t recognize it. The tune was slow and made even more eerie by the weak light from outside as morning approached. It reflected off something in her hand and he stayed where he was.
“Lass?” he whispered, uncertain. The hum stopped and she stood there, doing nothing. Finally, after what felt like several minutes to Arthur, she reacted.
“What is your... name?” she whispered. He could barely hear her, but her voice wasn’t as soft as he had anticipated. It carried some kind of weight to it, one that he had never really heard before. There was something more behind it, too. An emotion. Dark and gloomy.
“Arthur,” he said and relaxed a little. “Lass, what are you doing up? You should be resting.”
“Arthur... is it?” she said and ignored his question. “That’s an odd name around here. Thank you for helping me. It must have been quite scary in that park when you found me, though.”
“Well, yes it was... Lass, what’s your name?”
“My name...” the girl murmured as she slowly turned around, revealing the nastiest grin Arthur had ever seen. Her red eyes were open wide, glaring at him. “My name is Wallachia.”
She launched at him without warning, bringing forth the knife in her hand. Arthur was too slow and only managed to move an inch before Wallachia collided with him, sending a searing pain into his abdomen. He froze and gaped in shock, unable to even utter words. He looked down at Wallachia who was smiling back at him. From the knife sticking out he could see his blood starting to drip along its handle.
“You rescued me from one of my enemies,” Wallachia said and started to carve with the knife in his abdomen, cutting through his flesh. “Enemies in my eyes, of course. In your eyes he would have been my killer... And your savior.” His ribs blocked the path of the knife. She gave it a powerful tug and the ribs broke with a series of loud cracks. Slowly and methodically, she continued to cut his flesh.
Arthur gurgled as blood started to fill his lungs and seeking its way up his throat. The pain was indescribable, paralyzing him. He was holding himself upright by grabbing the door frame, his knuckles going white. He didn’t know what else to do. His mind was filled only with pain.
“Don’t worry, I’m sure he’ll catch me someday,” Wallachia mused and finished her carving, pulling the knife out. A big, fat slab of flesh dropped to the floor with a sickening, wet thump. Without waiting she pounced the knife in again and started to carve his organs that now hang free on his stomach, grinning as she did. “Oooh... I won’t go hungry for a while.”
Arthur’s vision began to grow dark from the loss of blood. He saw his own intestines below him, falling out one after another as Wallachia pulled them out with the knife. Soon she discarded the knife altogether, giggled and ripped them out by force. Blood was flowing freely from his abdomen, spluttering onto the floor and turning it a sinister red. For each ripped organ he convulsed, his eyes rolling farther back into their sockets.
“You know the monster in the park?” she said while giggling. “Seems like you were wrong. The monster was here all along.”
Arthur’s body finally gave up and he collapsed in a pile on the sticky floor, his soul granted its final sleep. For a moment Wallachia looked surprised at how long he had hold out. It quickly faded, however, and she knelt down next to the body. She thrust her hand inside his chest and ripped his heart free from its cage. She held it up above her, letting the blood drip onto her extended tongue, squeezing the heart until it exploded from the pressure. Her face and clothes were showered with blood. Each drop warmed her and she licked her lips in delight.
She then began the real feast.
[Note: Wallachia is an old OC of mine.]