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Katy left the old sage’s home and stepped back out into the chill autumn breeze. She shifted her pack which was heavier now that Myrna have given her an assortment of herbs and vials. The wise woman’s description of their properties was vague, full of enigmatic language about nature and spirit. But Katy took them with good cheer and was thankful for whatever help she could get.
She couldn’t stop thinking about the word ‘sacrifice’, and the tone of Myrna’s voice. What was this knowledge she was hoping to gain? And what would it cost? She absently crested the hill that led back to town before stopping to take in the view as she had before. This time, however, there was no life in the marketplace, no fires burning, no children playing, no activity whatsoever. A village permeated by silence. Katy lost her breath for a moment and a brief shock of terror arced through her.
Where is everyone? Why is it so…?
She choked back a scream as the crack of snapping twigs called out behind her. She spun around, reaching for the fish-knife, no time to think. But fear quickly turned to irritation. Not more than 30 feet away, a young man stood partially obscured by an oak tree. He was trying to regain his footing after slipping on some brambles. His eyes shot wide, like a deer caught unaware on an open trail.
“Jarret Parson! What are you doing behind that tree?”
The young man was silent, searching for something to say.
“Are you following me?” Katy continued.
He stammered a bit but finally spit out his words. “No…well…no more than usual.” It wasn’t exactly how he’d planned to respond.
Katy stifled a grin. Jarret was nothing if not honest. “Explain yourself. Did you follow me all the way to…”. She caught herself. What had he seen?
“I was just, sort of…wondering what you were up to…today”. He stumbled away from the tree and onto the road. “Then I saw you was going, you know, toward the wise woman’s place.”
“So you followed me there? Why didn’t you just come out and make yourself known? It’s rotten thing to follow a body when they don’t know you’re doing it.”
Jarret thought a moment. It didn’t help. Finally, he threw up his hands. “I guess I just thought, maybe, you wouldn’t want me following…if you knew I was. But then you went inside her house and…”
“And what?” Katy’s frustration had faded considerably. She knew she was putting the boy on the spot. Especially since it was common knowledge that he - despite being a year older - fancied her. A fancy that had probably started before either one of them was old enough to talk.
“Something weird happened. While you were in that house…something very weird.”
Katy had almost forgotten. She turned around to look at the village again. It was the same. Quiet and abandoned. “Did you see what happened?”
Jarret, now standing beside her, shook his head with his mouth hanging open. He stood several inches taller than Katy. A strong, good-looking lad with black locks and long, sinewy arms that had been swinging an axe for as long as either of them could remember. “Yes, I mean, I guess…no. It wasn’t anything to see. It was like a feeling. A change on the wind. It happened whilst you was in that house. Everything kind of…shifted. The breeze, the sounds, smells. Everything.” He pointed at the village. “And now that!”
The fear Katy had pushed away poured back over the ridge of her senses. “Where could they be? Where are the children? My folks? Yours?” She grabbed the boys arm. “We have to find out what happened.”
“What about the old woman? She’s the town sage. She has to know something. This happened after you went inside. Maybe she has somethin’ do do with it.” Jarret gasped and pulled away from Katy. “What happened in there? Did you do something?”
“NO! Of course not. I mean, I don’t think I did. We just talked.” Katy’s eyes darted back and forth, blinking. Then she looked directly at Jarret and punched him in the arm.
“Owww…why’d you go and do that?”
“That’s for thinking I had anything to do with this, Jarret Parsons! What a horrible thing to say!”
“I wasn’t meanin’ you caused what happened to the village. I just thought maybe you might have accidentally run into something or read something you weren’t supposed to. Like one of those books about a demon sacrifice or somethin’ like…”
Sacrifice
Katy grabbed Jarret again and pulled. “C’mon! We have to get down there and find out what happened.”
Jarret made no protest and the two ran down the hill toward home. As they got closer, the images of homes and hearths flowed in and out of color. The fall hues shifted from vibrant oranges, greens and browns to dull black-and-white. The forms of townsfolk they’d known their whole lives appeared as the pair approached, but faded and flourished again without warning.
“What in the hells is goin’ on?” Jarret said.
“We need to find our families. Now!”
They raced toward Katy’s house as it was the closer of the two. The bizarre holes in color hampered their rush as they found themselves trying to wave away phantom scenes swirling in their vision. When they arrived, only a grayish shack stood there. Silent and still. Katy pulled at the latch and threw open the door. She looked inside, but no one was home.
“Ma! Pa! Where are you??”
Quiet. A quiet so loud that she wondered if they were looking into a house at all, but instead into an old painting. A lifeless representation of what had existed in another time and place. There were no colors, no smells, no atmosphere. What had she done?
“MA! PA!” She could feel the tears welling. And her panic was taking over.
"I think we need to go, Katy.” Jarret said calmly as he took her arm. “Maybe we can get some answers at my house.” He didn’t honestly believe that. But he thought staying there would just make matters worse. And his own anxiety was growing. Katy put up a token resistance at first but quickly acquiesced. They left the Radlin home and headed toward the village square. From there, they could follow the south road to the Jarret’s house. A cabin near the Cullen Stream on the south edge of town.
As they glided through the market and along Fall road, the colors shrank from displaced globs of brilliance into tiny motes at the edge of their eyes. Soon, all color was gone along with the images of friends and families. The green cloak Katy wore was still as vibrant as ever, and the Jarret’s reddish tunic still shown. Yet everything around them was gray and quiet. The market stalls were all empty. No chickens or ducks, neither goat nor cow. The tanners, the blacksmith, and the sundries store looked as if they’d never been occupied. Even the stream that could usually be heard from the edge of the market made no sound.
They arrived at the Parsons’ house, a colorless story-and-a-half abode. The window of the attic where the family slept peered down on them, unwelcoming. Fear struck Jarret in the chest. There had always been someone around the house during the day. But none of his four younger brothers and sisters were anywhere to be found. None of the chimney smoke or laughter he’d left earlier that day. Not even his old man sitting on the front porch, smoking his late morning pipe. And the tributary behind the cabin, a river without flow, frozen in time. They searched the house as they had the one before. The result was the same. And Jarret began to shake.
“What is happening?” Jarret howled. He stared at Katy. “Tell me you understand this. Please!”
She grabbed the boy and pulled herself to him. It was the only thing she could think to do. Jarret’s arms immediately enveloped her and she buried her head in his chest. The feeling of relief that accompanied his embrace surprised her. It was the first hug they’d ever shared. As adolescents, at least. She wasn’t sure who needed it more.
“Please. Tell me you understand this.”
Katy raised her head from his chest and saw the his eyes wet and longing, looking for answers. He had always looked to her for the answers. Jarret was no follower, certainly not among the other children of Fall Creek. But since they were tiny he’d always taken her lead. If she hadn’t been sure of that before, she was now.
“I think it’s the Well. The 1000 Souls Well on the hill at the western edge of the Dim. There’s something. Something magical there. I don’t know how to explain it but I think Myrna was trying to tell me…”
“Is it about the soup?” Jarret replied, choking back tears.
“How…how did you know about the soup?”
“I…well, I was coming by last evening to…”
Katy pulled away from his chest but kept her fingers dug into his arms. “You were eavesdropping! Weren’t you? Jarret Parsons how could you…”
“I wasn’t intendin’ to. You were just, you know…so loud.” His face cringed. “I always figured there was somethin’ odd going on up there. It never made any sense, the hush about it and all the tall tales. At least, that’s what I thought.”
Katy’s frown softened and she let loose his arms. “Fine, good. So you know. Is that why you were following…oh why am I even asking such a fool question.”
“I was worried. I was worried…about you.”
Katy nearly smiled but shook her head instead. “I don’t need looking after, Jarret Parsons. Not by you or anybody. But…that was sweet of you.”
Jarret smiled wide. It was probably the nicest thing she’d ever said to him. Katy, however, regretted her words. They felt strange in her mouth. And her pulse was suddenly quick and uncomfortable. Mercifully, Jarett broke the lingering silence.
“Well then. What do we have to do?”
We? I suppose it is ‘we’ now…
Photo Credit: Flickr
An artists work is never done! Keep posting, you have vivid characters and a rich setting.
Great tale, Scott. I have to catch up on the previous chapters! Do you use e.g. https://hemingwayapp.com to check for e.g. adverbs or passive voice and such? Not that it's needed, I mostly ignore the score it gives but for adverbs outside of dialogue, I find it useful.