"Deep in the woods, something stirs… shaking the trees… scaring the animals… It's a presence that should not be there. Something that has been dormant for so long but has now awakened from the deepest of slumbers to take back what it has lost.
"Oh dear, you truly are a foolish one, aren't you? Did I not tell you to watch for the sign? Oh, but you did not listen. You did not have the respect for the arts that I poured into you. Now look at you? Driven mad!" The voice is womanly but raspy with smoke and fire. Each word sprays soot and ash.
I'm back in the woods, stumbling through the trees, my brain knocking against my skull with each step. There is a pounding inside me that will not let up. It's like there is a drum beating incoherent slop. Something doesn't feel right. I've been here before, stumbling through these woods.
A dream.
In the sky, the moon is no longer pale, but violet as if it has been irradiated by some cosmic energy unknown to this moral realm. The trees watch me with eyes that are unseen but creep around the corners. They slither over my body like snakes constricting their prey. There are eyes everywhere. I feel them searing my flesh, staring into my soul.
There is a cackle on the wind, it rides it like a broom in flight. Moving with each shift up and down, sending shivers down my spine. It's so long and drawn that there isn't a creature alive with that my breath. Once it stops, there is cold silence that freezes me in my place. I cannot move a muscle, and when I try, something seems to pull me closer to the ground. Gravity is getting stronger, or I am losing myself to the world.
The trees seem to be whispering, their leaves rustling with the wind that moves through the night air. It's a sharp air that is cool on the skin, but with each layer it peels from me, it gets colder. I watch the trees move, like they are forming a circle around me, chanting something in their whispering branches.
Then, the cackle comes back to life, but is closer and more like a wolf howling to the moon. I close my eyes and feel a sense of relief come over me. I should be moving toward the noise. That's my savior.
A crash!
I'm lying on the ground, leaves strung around me, roots digging in my back, a force pushing down on me, my ribs heave under the pressure, and something sharp sticks into my thigh.
"Help me," the muffled voice whispers.
"Please, help me," it cries.
I look to see a woman lying on top of me shuttered by a black robe. She is nothing but a mess of black hair. She is the pressure against my ribs.
I cough, and she pushes against me to stand. I push off the ground and stumble to my feet. My head is still ringing, and my vision is blurry. But I see her in front of me, a mass of black with pale skin and violet eyes.
"Please," she cries again. "We must run, they will be coming for us."
"Who?" I ask.
"That matters very little at this moment." She says, taking my hand and guiding me into the forest.
We move like an animal through the trees. Ducking under a branch and hoping over roots. The cackling follows us, but starts to grow softer the further we dive into the woods. The trees continue to whisper. As we run, I look up to see the violet moon hanging over us, laughing at me.
We run through the jungles for what seems like ages until we come to a small clearing with a shack nestled in the middle of it. There is no light coming from the shack; the wood is rotting away, hanging onto small threads; it looks as though, at any moment, it could collapse from a leaf falling onto it. The roof is riddled with spots and missing shingles. Cracks and holes fill the windows like kids use them for target practice with rocks.
I do not know the woman who holds my hand with an iron grip. I've barely been able to get a good look at her face and haven't asked her a single question while running through the woods. Something inside me tells me that this is fine and that I will be able to help this woman, which is why I've given in. Not putting up any protest as she leads me to the door of the shack.
We run through the clearing, covering ground as quickly as we can. Simply put, something has scared this woman so bad that she only has focus for survival. That's when I hear the rustling from the leaves behind us. The snarling from beyond the shrubs. The sound is wet and laced with grim. I glance over my shoulder to see a beast emerging like a shadow cast by the sun.
A mass of knotted black hair, snarling fangs foaming and seething with primal instinct. It unleashes a howl that pierces my ears and causes me to slow.
"No. No. No." She cries, squeezing my hand tighter. "We must get to the shack. We must get to the shack."
Tears roll from her violet eyes, and her words fall from her mouth with little more than fear behind them. She is consumed by fear, doomed to die.
I release her grip on me and turn to meet the beast.
"Continue to the shack. I will only be but a moment." I say over my shoulder, drawing my pistol from its holster. I've already killed one of these monsters before. I should have no trouble making quick work of this thing and freeing this woman from the fear that will soon cripple her and bring her to death.
"Please… Please don't leave me…" she cries.
"You have nothing to worry about. Continue to the shack." I demand.
She does as I say, making it to the shack as the beast, and I meet in the clearing. The violet light casts shadows from the beast like some sort of monster of legend. It seems to grow as the light shines down upon it. Its fangs grow larger, claws sharper, and life seems to drain from its eyes, giving way to a primal instinct that I will never know, for I am no beast.
I put down the beast with little effort, firing only a few shots before driving my dagger through its lower jaw and into its brain. Blood now coats my hands like pain, and brain matter is splashed against my pants. I turn to make my way towards the shack when I hear more snarling and rustling from the leaves.
Two more beasts come from the woods, though these do not crawl on four legs; they stand on two. Their muscles are corded iron, which gives little with each step that they take.
"HAND OVER!" One of them snarls.
Its voice is like nails on a chalkboard; there is something so unnatural about it, something so unsettling. My mind cannot wrap around the fact that this thing is able to speak.
"HAND OV…!" The other begins to howl before it sees the beast that lies at my feet.
They both unleash a devastating howl, looking into the moon, and I watch as everything drains from their eyes, and they, too, are taken over by some sort of primal demon.