Not a person in sight. Only crows picking scraps and cigarette butts out between the gravel. The old Ford turns left up the dark alley leading to the yard. It rumbles along the dirt road for several minutes before disappearing between the worn-out train cars and coming to a stop near the large open space between them. Two men step out of the van. The driver lights a cigarette while the other sends a text from a flip phone to a number that will soon be disconnected.

“Plaza is clear. Games are on!”

The man with the cigarette leans against the van while dragging hard on his smoke. His face is rough, and his beard is big and messy. The two fingers missing from his left hand were taken by a shark several years ago. The kind of shark that offers high interest loans to desperate people. The other man is walking around the area to check it out properly. He has already decided how to set up the area, when the flip phone in his pocket gives a short buzz.

“Players 1-4 confirmed. Set it up.”

The man nods to himself when he reads the text and then calls his friend to get the gear. The man with the cigarette opens the van and hauls out a large box. They start by setting up the corner polls for the arena. Then they tie a long rope between the corners to form a clearly marked square. Finally, one of them grabs a can of spray-paint and paints a second square on the ground around the first, marking off where the spectators can stand. They are only just finished with the ring when a brown Toyota rolls into the square and parks next to the van. A slim, bald man with small sunglasses exits the driver side of the vehicle and promptly walks to the rear passenger door. The driver opens the door and a short Asian man, wearing a suit, steps out. He has a large scar across his face, and his nose is crooked from having been broken several times. The driver walks to the man with the cigarette and announces that player one has arrived and is ready. The man with the flip-phone leads the driver and the Asian man, known as player one, to an open train car where they can sit and wait for the other players and the spectators to arrive.

Over the course of the next few minutes the area slowly fills up with people, arriving in cars, on bikes and on foot. They all gather quietly around the marked square, being careful not to cross the painted lines on the ground. Ten minutes later, a station wagon pulls into the yard. Two very buff young men exit the car. One has tattoos covering most of his body, from the tips of his fingers, up the arms, across the chest and back, and down the legs. The other has clean white skin. They are both wearing jeans and tight tank tops and generally look a lot alike, apart from the ink. The tattooed one announces the arrival of players three and four and the men are led to another train car where they can wait. Player two arrives a few minutes later, on a lime green motorcycle. She quickly parks it, walks to the man with the cigarette and demands the games start immediately. The man nods and grabs an old worn-out bowler hat from his box of stuff. He quickly throws four pieces of paper in there and shakes it. His partner pulls out two of the paper slips. Players three and four are up first. The players enter the square and for a few minutes they just stare at each other, while the crowd has a chance to place their bets. When all the bets are in the man with flip phone gives the players the signal to start.

The tattooed man throws the first punch that lands square in the chest of his brother who stumbles backwards, before launching his own punch. He passes a few perfect face shots before his tattooed brother manages to block him and fight back. They fight back and forth for several minutes, while the crowd yells and cheers. Both men are bleeding from the face, and the tattooed one clearly has a broken nose while the other has a swollen eye. They both refuse to back down, but they also seem to be equally good fighters.

Lots of low blows and dirty tricks later the tattooed man finally lands a punch that sends his opponent into the dirt. He lands on his back and doesn’t get back up. The crowd is yelling and screaming louder than ever when player four is declared the winner. A few volunteers drag the looser away from the arena.

During the short break between fights, all the bets are settled. Some won good money, while others lost even more. Less then five minutes later the next fight is prepared. The name-hat comes out again, now only containing three paper slips. The first one pulled is player two; the young woman. Next is player four. He has barely wiped the blood from his face, and now he has to fight again. The fighters join the square and another round of betting is started. When the fight starts the woman quickly sends a series of well-placed fist shots, but the tattooed man blocks them easily. He is significantly larger than her and the punches doesn’t seem to bother him at all. When the woman backs off, he returns the favour by punching her, first going for the face and then for the body. She blocks, but the hits push her backwards. This man is clearly hitting a lot harder than her and has about twice the weight. They dance around each other and trade punches, always with the same result. One punches, the other blocks. He always pushes her backwards several feet for each attack, while she barely makes him move an inch. The crowd is yelling and cheering every time one of the fighters makes a move. After a while the tattooed man decides to end the fight. He launches forward to strike the woman. He is putting his entire weight behind this one. As he extends his arm, with incredible force the woman ducks out of the way and pulls her knee up and forward with an equal amount of force. Her head only just gets out of the way of the fist, coming at her, but her knee is well placed and strikes the man square in the balls. He lets out a loud squeal and then the entire area goas quiet.

The tattooed man tumbles over, as in slow motion and lands curled up on the ground. The silence is long as the crowd realizes what just happens. Then they all roar at once. The tattooed man is dragged away, and the woman is declared the winner. Once again, the bets are settled, and the two remaining fighters prepare for the last fight of the day.

Players one and two are called to the arena. For the last time, the crowd has a few minutes to place their bets. Most people are betting on the Asian who is no longer wearing his suit. He is now only wearing a pair of shorts and tight fist wrappings. His bare torso reveals several large scars from knife fights and at least two from bullets. The fight begins with the Asian leaping forward with unbelievable speed and hammering on the young woman like lightning. His hands move too fast for people to really understand what is happening, and the woman has only a poor chance to block. She can do nothing but take the massively violent abuse from her opponent, until he finally backs off to take a breather. He expected the woman to be too tired and sore from the previous fight and from his own pounding to offer any real threat or resistance. But as soon as he steps away from her, she takes the short opening as an invitation to teach him a few things about street fighting. She starts by landing a few perfectly measured body shots, forcing the Asian to lower his guard to protect his stomach. The woman takes advantage of this slight opening, to send a single right hook straight to his face. The sound of his nose breaking almost outshouts the roaring cheer of the crowd. The Asian stumbles backwards. He never thought this chick would have had such power in her. He quickly collects himself and steps forward to deal his own damage, but every swing he throws, hits only air, as the woman dodges him every time, with incredible precision. He keeps trying, but no matter how fast he tries to punch, she keeps ducking out of the way or blocking him off, almost like she knows where the next punch will fall before he does. Before he is able to land a solid punch, she starts hitting him back. They trade punches back and forth, but although they are pretty equal in skill the Asian man is taking the most direct blows while the woman is taking a lot less damage. After ten minutes the woman delivers the final blow. A perfect wrist shot hitting the Asian in the throat. He stumbles backwards a few steps, with panic in his eyes, before finally tumbling over with a vague rattling sound. The crowd is louder than ever before, as the woman is declared the winner.

As the Asian is dragged away from the arena and the bets are being settled, the woman walks back to her motorbike. She swiftly hops on and turns to the game host with the cigarette. She gives him a small wink before speeding away from the old train yard.

Written 15/03-2021

Sandra picks up the bag of onions. “How many do we need?”, Albert flips through the book. “Hold on. Uhm, just one onion. And we need four potatoes per person, so that makes sixteen. And all of the bell peppers. You get all that, and I’ll get started on the bacon and chicken.”

Sandra nods and goes to the toolbox to find a vegetable knife and a cutting board. It isn’t easy to find an even surface on the home build table, but they make do. She starts by cutting one end of the onion and proceeds to peel it carefully. She makes sure to get all the nasty onion skin off as well. Then she places the onion on the board with the cut end down, and slices it in half, before flipping it and cutting it in hundreds of tiny onion pieces.

Next, she grabs the bag of potatoes and counts out the sixteen they need, into a washing bowl. Jack joins her with the pale of water and pours over the potatoes, to ease the peeling process. Sandra sits down and starts peeling away while she hums the potato-peeling-song.

Albert has found his own chopping board, a sharp knife, and the box with all the meat products. He starts with the chicken breasts. Slices it carefully in long, slim strips. Then he cuts them into squares, the size of playing dice. When he is done with all the chicken, he dumps it in a plastic bowl and sets it aside. He then pulls out the bacon and cuts that in thin pieces as well. When it is all nice and sliced, he dumps it in the same bowl as the chicken.

After he finished the meats, he washes the cutting board and knife carefully, before starting on the bell peppers. He doesn’t know what else to do, and Sandra is still slaving away at the potatoes.

Sandra is making great progress, but potatoes are a long process. The peeling feels like it takes forever, but when that is done things pick up. It only takes a few minutes to cut the potatoes in small bits.

While the two are working on the food, Jack and Sam are trying to make a fire. At first, they are both chopping wood. They will need quite a lot for the fire to go for as long as it takes to cook proper food. After a while, Sam set aside his axe and takes out his knife. He collects a few of the firewood pieces and sits by the campfire pit. He starts to carefully cut small wood shavings of the firewood. They will need a good handful of these to get the fire going. While he cuts away, Jack keeps at it with the big axe. He cops more wood than he can carry, but he is sure they will get it all burned before they go to bed, even if they don’t need all of it for the cooking fire. When he has a good pile of wood, he starts bringing it to the fire pit, where he stacks it neatly in the corner. He then goes off into the forest to find some suitable kindling. Sam starts building the fire in a neat little pile, with a solid base and smaller sticks on top. After a short while Jack return with a handful of tiny sticks and some dried grass and moss. He carefully sets the grass and moss in the middle of the fire that Sam build. They then stack small sticks on top and builds around it with slightly larger pieces of wood.

Eventually Jack looks at Sam. “I think we are ready, don’t you?”. Sam nods. “Yeah, you do the honours”. Jack pulls out his fire steel and strikes a few sparks down on the bonfire. They land in the dry moss in the middle. Jack gently squeezes the moss to close a bit around the tiny fragile ember and blows on it ever so gently. After a second a small line of smoke rises from the embers, and shortly after a flame jumps up from the moss. It quickly catches the grass and the smallest of the sticks. Jack gently manipulates the kindling, to make sure it all catches fire, and after just a few minutes they have a big, nice fire going. They both make sure to feed it regularly with increasingly large sticks and logs, to get it to a good cooking state.

While the fire grows steadily, they all pitch in on getting the last of the food ready. They then gather at the firepit to look at the fire eating away at the wood, while they wait for it to die down to a manageable size. They spend the time talking about their day and share stories. After fifteen minutes the fire is about the right size for cooking and Jack places the Dutch oven directly in the fire.

They fetch the food from the table and start throwing it in the big cast iron pot, starting with the bacon and chicken. When that is browned, they add the onions and then about a liter of cooking cream and just as much water. When the stew is nearing a boil, they add the potatoes and the peppers, along with plenty of seasoning. Sam stirs the whole thing for about a minute. Then he places the lid on top, and they leave it sitting there.

While the stew is stewing, Sandra mixes up a batch of simple bread dough. It is mostly water, flower, and oil. When the stew has been simmering for about half an hour, Jack fetches the frying pan and put it over the fire next to the iron pot. Sandra starts frying the dough in small flat portions on the pan to make a stack of small bread loafs. Albert is grabbing the plates and cutlery from the toolbox and setting the table neatly. Or at least as neatly as he can, on the uneven tabletop. Sandra puts all the fresh bread loafs in a bowl and sets it on the table.

When the food is ready, they each grab a plate and fills it with stew from the pot, still sitting in the fire. It is too heavy to move, and the food stays hot longer on the fire anyways. When they all have a full plate, they sit at the table and pass the bread bowl around. Sandra looks around at them all. “Good work team. Dig in!”.

Written 24/02-2021

When I was a young boy, I had a most unusual friend. She wasn’t my only friend, but she was the only friend I truly trusted. We would play around for hours every day, and I would ride her back over the rooftops and above the city. We would travel to faraway lands and meet all sorts of characters. And wherever we came, everyone would bow to my friend and I. Pirates and kings and elves and wizards alike would fall to one knee when Serelarh and I flew by. We were the most respected pair in the whole world. And we were the best of friends from even before I learned to walk, and all the way through my childhood.

Unfortunately, there is this thing with dragons. The older you get, the weaker they become. Until one day they are no more at all. And then there is me. As I grew older, I started to doubt myself. I was never too confident, and as I grew older, and my time with Serelarh became less and less every day, I started to see dark creatures around me. It started one summer evening, when Serelarh and I had flown off to a beach in Honah Lee, to see the sea turtles burry their eggs. As the sun was coming down and we turned towards home, I spotted a shadow on the beach below us. Serelarh didn’t seem to notice at all, so I thought nothing more of it then.

It took almost a week before I saw another shadow. It seemed to be following me home, as I was leaving school. It scared me, so I started running, and as soon as I came home, I called Serelarh, and we flew off. It wasn’t long before we reached Honah Lee, and I almost forgot about the shadows, as we soared over the city. Then we heard the sound of canons firing not too far from the harbour. Serelarh quickly turned towards the sound, and when we reached the water, we saw that several of the king’s ships were firing at a large, black-sailed schooner. It wasn’t pirates, and I couldn’t see any flags, indicating where the ship was from. Even the ship itself was hard to make out. Every feature of it was black as the night, and that made it impossible to see if there were any crew on board, and if so, how many men. The black schooner was heading straight for the harbour at full sail. They didn’t seem to care that the king and his fleet were firing at them. They just kept sailing. Serelarh and I kept our distance to the schooner, but we circled around it to see if we could make out where it was from, or why it was here, but we couldn’t see anything but blackness on the deck of the ship. Then out of nowhere there was a loud rumbling as the schooner opened fire from two large bow canons. How could I have missed them? We looked on in terror as the first of the king’s ships was blown to a million pieces. Nothing was left of the ship when the smoke cleared. It was time Serelarh and I joined the fight. Serelarh turned sharply, and we soared towards the stern of the schooner. When we were close enough Serelarh opened her mouth and covered the backmost half of the ship in flames. As soon as she was done, I jumped to the deck and drew my sword. Serelarh went straight for the sails. The second I landed on the deck, I realized why we hadn’t seen the crew. They were as black as the ship. They didn’t have black skin. Truly I wasn’t sure if they even had skin. They looked more like shadows, than people. Standing, walking shadows. We fought them, Serelarh and I. It felt like hours, we were on the ship, fighting for our lives and for Honah Lee.

When the fight was over, and the last of the shadows had been run through, the ship seemed different. It was still dark, but it had colour now. Not just black. We were greeted as heroes when we returned to Honah Lee, but when I asked who it was we had fought off, Serelarh picked me up, and flew off, before anyone could answer. I didn’t understand, and it would take a few years before I would finally get it. During those years my trips and adventures with Serelarh became fewer and fewer, and more and more often we ran into the shadow people again. Every time we encountered them, it was a little harder to fight them. But the worst part was that I started seeing them at home as well. After the first encounter at home, on my way from school, I thought we had made sure the shadows would only exist in Honah Lee. But after a few months, I saw them again in my world. They weren’t as aggressive here at home, but they seemed to become more and more daring. At first, I would only just get a glance of a shadow on the street on one day and a feeling of being watched the next. But as time passed, they came closer and closer. I started seeing them more often and more clearly, and at one point I saw one in my back yard, staring straight at my window. I also started to understand better what they were.

By the time I was seventeen I almost never saw Serelarh anymore. The last few times we travelled together she seemed tired, and she couldn’t help much when the shadow people attacked the kingdom in Honah Lee again and again.

It was a few days before my eighteenth birthday. The shadow people had been coming closer every day for years now, and I hadn’t seen Serelarh in months. Then on this, seemingly regular Wednesday evening, Serelarh showed up in my yard, urging me to come with her. I was keen to get going, but before I could climb on her back, the shadow people were all over her. This was the first time they ever attacked here. Maybe because a dragon showed up, they realized that the border between the reality of Honah Lee, and the reality at home, was nothing but an idea. We quickly fought off the shadows in the yard. They were weak here, still. I mounted Serelarh and she took off faster than I had seen in a long time. We flew as fast as she could, her huge, painted wings pushing us forward aggressively. Only when we arrived in Honah Lee, I realized why she was in a hurry. The shadows were all over the city, and even inside the castle. I had never seen this many of them before, and the city itself seemed darker than ever, and its features were starting to blur. We didn’t even have time to assess the situation, we just dove right into the fight. It was the hardest and longest fight I had ever been in. We fought for what felt like days, but the shadow people just kept coming. I was up on the castle walls when I first spotted the old mill. It was completely black now, and so was the bakery next to it. I realized we were losing the city. But we kept fighting. The king’s men and I on the ground with every able man in the kingdom, and Serelarh in the sky, breathing fire from above.

I was so tired at that point. Somehow, I had found my way to the tower above the castle. Even here the shadows were outnumbering us. They were everywhere. As I looked out over the land, beyond the city walls, I saw darkness, so many places. It was not just the city that was being attacked. The whole of Honah Lee was infested and loosing. It was only a matter of time before the whole kingdom would be blackened. Serelarh had realized this too and swept by the tower. I jumped on, ready to go home. We didn’t stand a chance here. Serelarh turned towards home, but before we crossed the city wall, a black chain caught her around the neck, and she crashed into the ground, with a painful roar. I was thrown off her back and tumbled across the ground. As I got up Serelarh had gotten on her feet as well and dragged a large chain on the ground after her. I grabbed her neck and pulled myself up, as she went by. She tried to fly, but the chain was too heavy. She couldn’t take off, so she ran. As fast as any dragon can run, towards the city wall, to bring me home safe. We reached the city wall, but we were too late. It had been knocked down and shadow people were blocking our way. I didn’t have a chance to figure out what to do before Serelarh threw me over the shadow people and into the forest outside the city. The shadow people didn’t seem to care about me. They wanted the dragon. As soon as I was on my feet once again, I saw Serelarh being dragged off by the black chain, and before long, she was pinned to the side of the castle tower. I couldn’t do anything, but stare in horror as Serelarh, my friend through so many years, was hung as an ornament. And worst of all, was her wings. They were no longer painted and beautiful. They were turning black. Serelarh was turning black. She was gone.

I took off. I ran and ran for hours through the forest, towards the sunset. I could hear the battle still in Honah Lee, but I had to get out. Then, out of nowhere, there was my garden. I was home, finally. I went to my room and locked the door. I cried myself to sleep. Honah Lee was lost to the shadows and the darkness, and Serelarh was dead. And the shadow people were here, too. I could feel them staring at me as I went to sleep.

It has been a few years now and I have moved to my own place. I thought that would save me, but now I am sitting on the floor of my apartment, all alone, and the lights turned off. I am hiding my face in my hands, and trying to concentrate, as I fight the shadow people. They have grown much stronger over the years. Some days they win the battle, and some days I do. The only thing that is for sure, is that every day is a new battle. And every day, I consider surrendering to the shadows, before they attack. Going to sleep and never waking up. Letting the shadows drag me off to wherever they go at night, when they are not torturing me. But every day so far, I have kept fighting. Fighting for me. Fighting for Honah Lee. And fighting for Serelarh.

Written 27/05-2016

Screams were heard from the tallest tower of the castle as he flew around the long dark halls and bolted the large, heavy doors and windows shut. The storm was raging, and the violent rain was hammering aggressively on the doors and windows of their ancient residence. After all these years of fighting in wars, hiding from the public and trying to maintain a proper life, even with the villagers frightened of him and his powers, this was the first time in several centuries, that he, himself felt fear.

He reached the last window and stared for a second, out into the darkness, in admiration that even the full moon, in all her glory, could not overpower the blackness of this storm. Never had he seen the night sky so angry. He slammed the window shutters, and in that same moment a bolt of lightning tore across the sky. For a split second, that felt like a hundred years (Trust me, he would know) everything was lit up as if the sun had suddenly burst out of hiding and bathed the castle in light. The thunder that followed, made every window in the castle shake and every plate and glass in the cupboards rattle. The sound of a thousand canons fired at once, roaring over the land.

Another scream, followed by loud crying was heard from the tower.

No doubt the weak-minded villagers would blame him for this extreme and frightening weather. And he couldn’t help but think they might be right. Maybe he was to blame for the weather. Maybe this was a punishment for what he had done. Or maybe it was a warning of what was to come.

He had sworn so many years ago that he would never love another. He had sworn to himself and to the gods, to never again court a mortal woman. But then he had met her. She was perfect in every way. And not at all afraid of him.

He was the lord of darkness. A monster. A murderer. A creature of the night.

She was the incarnation of light. A flower in the wind. The first flake of snow in the winter. The sun breaking through a rainy cloud. Her smile could warm the heart of even the coldest of the cold and lighten the soul of even the darkest of men. Even his.

He ran to the staircase of the tower. He had to get to her before it was too late. He had to see her again. Of all the power and riches, he possessed, he cherished her the most, even though she was a free spirit and he had no rule over her. He would trade all his gold, all his powers and even his immortality, just to see her one more time. Little did he know that he did exactly that.

He had promised this woman his life. He had gone out of his way to protect her from his less than fortunate life. He had been honest with her and showed her everything, so she would never feel fooled or lied to. And she had accepted him. All of him.

He was running up the stairs to the very top of the tallest tower of the castle. The tallest tower in all of Transylvania, in fact. The sound of crying had faded away now. Had it not been for the rain lashing against the walls and windows, the castle would have been completely silent.

As he reached the top of the stairs, he was just about to open the doors to their bedroom. He froze solid, when the bells of the castle clock chimed loudly. The bells drowned out the sound of the weather. Midnight. This day should have been the 29th of February. This day should have been the day for the miracle. But the 29th never came. It was quiet from the room, which could mean only two things. Either the miracle had come early, or, what scared him more, it never would.

He slowly pushed open the heavy doors, not knowing what he should expect to find in the chamber. Then he saw her, sitting on the bed.

She was crying quetly. Cradling the tiny creature in her arms. She slowly turned her eyes to him. Through the gentle tears, she looked happy, though tired. She smiled at him, and then spoke, with her silk soft voice:

“Vino să-ți vezi fiica. Ea este frumoasa”.*

To this day, she still is.

Written 28/02-2019

*”Come see your daughter. She is beautiful”

#1: Tall Tales

In the time of ancient, the villagers would curfew themselves at dusk of every day. The families would huddle around the gentle fires in their homes, telling stories of the evil creatures and spirits hunting the forest around the village. The elders would take place in the large, comfortable chairs to tell their tales. The kids would gather under blankets on the floor. The stories were told and listened to, intently. Grand tales and secret whispers of the dangers that hide in the dark.

Every story would be unique, and every telling would be a new piece of art. But the lesson was always the same: Don’t wander into the Hollow Horn Woods, and don’t go out in the dark.

It was well known in the village of Marquisk that many evils were lurking in the woods. But one creature in particular was to be feared above all. He was known as the Vogresh, and described as a beast, unlike any other. Having the stature of a hunched over man but covered in fur like a muskox he was the most frightening creature you would ever see. Standing 12 foot tall, and with small, bright white eyes. Horns on his head like a ram. Claws on his hands and feet like a raven. Fangs like a hungry wolf. Growling and roaring like a bear.

Many stories would tell of brave young men wandering into the forest to defeat the creature and free the village. And many stories would end with vivid images of these brave young men being torn and mangled. Their tormented screams would be heard far and wide as the creature tore the limbs from the bodies and the flesh from the bones.

Some stories would feature children, being stolen from the village, when wondering out, after dark. What the creature would do with a child was never quite clear. Some would say the creature ate the younglings. Others would tell gruesome tales of the creature collecting the nails, teeth, and eyes from the children, before leaving them to wander through the forest. Alone, scared, cold, blind and in excruciating pain. Until they would inevitably freeze or starve to death or be taken by wolves. For many years, these stories were told on, as truth from generation to generation. From elder to child. And everyone in Marquisk new that the stories were true, for they had all heard them, time and time again, for as long as anyone could remember.

#2: Lost Girl

Kaia is half sneaking, half running through the undergrowth of the forest. She promised her mother to go and pick the einen berries today, but she almost forgot. It will soon be dark, so she will have to hurry. No one is allowed outside after dark, so she has to be fast. Luckily, she knows exactly where the bush is, so she will have no trouble finding it. The trouble is finding it without attracting wolves or bears or angry forest spirits along the way. She is not really supposed to go into the forest to find berries, but there are only so many einen bushed around, and the ones on the other side of the pasture are too far away. She wouldn’t be able to reach them and get back home before dusk.

Kaia is the only one who knows about the bush in the forest, so she is sure no one else will have gotten the berries before she gets there. It is a sure thing. Get in, get the berries, get out. No one has to know where they are from. And as long as she makes sure not to get eaten, no one will bother asking questions anyway.

Just a little further now. She pushes past a tree and spots the bush. The light green leaves and bright white berries are unmistakable. They light up the ground under the bush like tiny lanterns. Exceptionally beautiful and extremely poisonous if they are eaten raw or fermented wrongly. But in the right kind of brew, they are both delicious and are said to have all sorts of healing powers.

Kaia kneels down on the soil by the bush, but just before plucking the first berry, she is startled by a sound from the brushwood not far from where she is sitting. She turns her head to see what made the noise, and a deer limps out between the trees. It is moving slowly and awkwardly through the forest. And it is bleeding from an arrow wound on the left side; arrow still sticking out. Hunters must have tried to get this one and failed. Kaia folds her hands in her lap, while she silently studies the deer, making its way towards a small clearing. It doesn’t appear to have spotted her. Or maybe it just doesn’t care. Maybe it knows it has only moments left on this earth. The deer stops in the clearing and tries to lay down in the grass. The wound from the arrow has mostly crippled the left front leg, so it takes a while before the animal is finally resting on the ground. Then it rolls on its side as if already dead. But it is still breathing. Kaia is watching the poor animal, and she has almost forgot why she is in the forest at this time.

A shadow glides over the clearing and Kaia remembers that she has to get the berries and get home. But before she has a chance to move, a creature moving silently through the forest emerges from between the trees and joins the wounded deer in the clearing.

Kaia’s eyes widen and her jaw drops, as she stares at the beast. She can only see it from the back, but she knows exactly what she is seeing. A creature, tall as a building, furry as a muskox, with horns, moving in the shadows of the Hollow Horn Woods. It can only be the creature her grandparents have told her about. They usually refer to it as Vogresh, or Rooftrellen the Fiend. It is always described as a demon of the woods that steals and eats people. Or mangles and tortures them. It is hard to say, since no one has ever survived seeing the demon in real life. And now Kaia is here. Looking straight at it.

The furry giant slowly walks to the deer. Kaia can still se the deer as the beast is bending over it. She doesn’t want to look at the horror that will surely ensue. She doesn’t want to see the evil creature mangle the poor deer and eat it raw of the ground. But she can’t look away. Her eyes are fixed on the clearing. She was always the curious one in the family and usually that is a good thing. But not now.

The creature reaches over and places a large, clawed hand on the deer. And then it speaks. Or at least it sounds like speaking, only there are no words that Kaia has ever heard before. The creature is almost chanting in a slow, deep voice. Something that sounds like words, but from a fairy-tale language, monotone, yet beautiful. When the creature falls silent, the entire forest does as well. Even the wind seems to give the forest roof a break from ruffling the leaves for a second. The creature has taken a step back, when suddenly a bright light shines out of the deer. A spirit rises, white and glowing, like the full moon. The soul of the deer takes a few steps around the clearing before setting of and disappearing into the forest. Out of the ground grows vines and roots. Slithering like snakes they fold around the carcass of the deer, and before long the entire animal has been swallowed into the ground, and no trace is left of it.

Kaia finds herself on her feet. She doesn’t remember getting up, but she is now slowly moving towards the clearing. The creature turns and starts to walk off, still moving slowly, as if to not disturb the forest around it.

Kaia realises how dangerous the creature might be, and she immediately ducks in behind a tree. She has learned to move silently through the forest, and now is a great time to do exactly that. The creature has not noticed her, and she has the opportunity of a lifetime to see it up close. The only human to have ever survived laying eyes on the Vogresh. When she steps out from behind the tree to follow the demon something crackles under her foot. She thought she was so careful, and yet she missed whatever it was she stepped on. She has frozen in her tracks, eyes fixed on the back of the large creature. She is holding her breath, waiting to see if the creature reacts to the sound she made. But it doesn’t seem like it heard her. It moves slowly in between the trees, and somehow it manages to hide completely in the thick forest. Kaia finally breathes out slowly as she starts moving again to follow the creature. She has only taken a few steps when there is another sound. Not from her this time, but from the forest to her right. Like a large branch is pushed out of the way. Kaia feels the blood drain from her head and fingers, as she turns to face the sound. She is staring into the face of the demon. It is only a few feet away from her. She never saw the creature clearly before, but now se can. The entire creature is covered in long dark brown fur. Even the face is completely hidden behind the fur, and the only distinguishable feature is the small, bright white eyes. There is no iris and no pupil. Just pure white. Kaia starts to freeze, and her legs start to tense up. She is ready to run at any second now. But she can’t move a muscle. The creature starts to lean towards her, as if curious to see her better. They are staring into each other’s eyes for, what feels like hours, before the creature finally shifts his gaze to look past Kaia and into the woods behind her. With a gentle humming the creature reaches past Kaia and starts drawing something in the dirt around her with his huge claw. For some reason she is not nearly as scared as she feels she should be. Maybe the fact that she is still alive and in no way mangled or tortured by the creature gives her a sense of comfort. Maybe she just lost the ability to be scared. At least that’s what she managed to think during the few seconds the creature spends drawing a circle of odd symbols around her. But when she catches a shadow moving out of the corner of her eye, turns her head and looks directly at a large grey wolf, she realizes, she definitely didn’t lose her sense of fear.

Her skin tightens all over her body, like it has all of a sudden become too small. Her father has made sure to teach her that of all the ways you can die in the woods, getting eaten by wolves is the second worst one, only matched by the Rooftrellen. And given the current situation, she is starting to question that notion.

It doesn’t seem like the wolf has spotted her yet, but wolves are excellent hunters. They can track their prey for miles if they have to and they are patient, even when hungry or stressed. They will hold of an attack until the entire pack is in place and the pray has nowhere to go and no way of defending itself. Kaia knows all the tricks to hide from wolves, but when they are this close it will not make much of a difference. Wolves will spot any movement. Kaia is standing still, like a tree. They can hear even the tiniest of sounds. Kaia is breathing as quietly as she possibly can, and intensely listening to the forest. Hoping she can hear if there are more wolves moving around in the woods. She hears something and she is trying to figure out what it is. Her fear intensifies when she realises it is her own heart, beating like a drum in her chest. How can such a small clump of meat make such a noise? Se closes her eyes, trying to calm herself. When she can hear her heart this clearly, so can the wolves; no doubt about it. Deep, slow breaths.

Something tickles as it runs down her spine. She opens her eyes wide with fear when she realizes it is a droplet of sweat from the top of her neck. If there is one thing her farther always seemed to stress more than anything: Sweat stinks. And of course, wolves have the most superior sense of smell. Keeping your body odour as neutral as possible, can easily mean the difference between life and death. Even a single drop of sweat at the wrong time can attract a horde of wolves. Right now, is just about the worst time to start sweating, but she cannot help it. And even if she could, the damage is done. The sweat drop is out there for all the woods to smell. She knows there is not much chance for her now. The wolves will find her and attack. First, they will jump past her and claw at her, to see if she will fight back. When they realize she is no threat to them, one of them will grab her neck with incredible jaw strength and squeeze till she can’t scream anymore. It will shake her, violently, until her neck snaps. She will be paralysed. Lying on the ground, unable to move. Unable to speak. Only waiting for the wolves to kill her. They will start tearing her flesh from her bones. They will gnaw and eat at her. Eventually they will try to get to her heart. Chewing, clawing, and ripping at her chest to get through the ribs, before finally getting through and letting her die. It can take quite a while to get through the ribs, though. The strong bone cage, designed by mother nature to protect the heart and lungs from intruders and predators. The feeling of being eaten alive; sensing the frustration of the wolves as they fight to get through the ribcage; wishing to be dead, but unable to die.

Kaia has made it through eleven winters, fighting the cold, the dark, the scarcity of food, and all the other dangers the village faces, at all times. Now she will die alone in the woods, getting eaten by wolves. She is just a child, still. Much too young to die like this. Much to young to die at all, really. But the woodland creatures, be it wolves, bears or demons, won’t care about her age or size. They will kill her regardless.

These dark thoughts make Kaia turn her head, trying to stop the tears. Another wolf has walked right up to her. Only a few feet between them. She is startled and instinctually takes a step back, but something stops her. A large hand prevents her from completing the step. The Rooftrellen. Kaia looks from the wolf to Rooftrellen, back to the wolf and back again to Rooftrellen, back to the wolf again. The wolf is walking away. Like it didn’t even notice her. Strolling through the forest as if it were all alone in the whole world. The rest of the pack follows.

The wolves have gone. Kaia is still alive. Rooftrellen finally removes his hand from her back and starts to walk away. Kaia looks around to try and make sense of it all and realises why Rooftrellen stopped her from taking that step. It kept her inside the circle of symbols it had drawn on the ground. Curious to see if the creature will keep her trapped in the circle for good, she starts to take a step over the symbols. The Rooftrellen doesn’t even turn to look at her, but just keeps walking into the forest. Kaia sets after him. She is not scared anymore. The giant creature feels like a friend to her, more than anything. She can’t believe everyone in the village has thought him to be a monster for all these years. He is moving slowly and quietly through the forest. But even with his slow movements, his long legs make it hard for Kaia to keep up. The foliage crackle under her feet, twigs snap as she brushes past them, and she is punting loudly. She knows how to move quietly through the forest, but not this fast. She is not sure why she is following the creature further into the woods, but she also can’t stop. After several minutes he stops, and Kaia can finally catch up. She slows down as she approaches and slowly walks the last few feet to get close to him. It isn’t until he looks up at the sky, through the thick forest roof that Kaia realises it is almost dark. There is no way she will make it home before nightfall. In just a few minutes the forest will be swallowed by complete darkness, making it impossible to find a safe path, let alone the way out of the forest.

Rooftrellen looks back at her with his intense white eyes. Kaia has been told her whole life how dangerous he is, and yet looking this giant in the eyes gives her a warm sensation of familiarity. She feels safe with him. More than she ever did before. Like all the dangers of the forest are not important while they are together. She takes a step closer to him, wanting to grab his hand, but the creature turns away and starts pushing through the bushes and trees. Kaia still can’t help but follow. What else would she do anyways? She can’t be alone in the woods at night. She is not even supposed to be here during the day. Rooftrellen has slowed down since before, giving Kaia a better chance to keep up, without making too much notice. Squeezing past trees and through bushes. Gently manipulating the branches to let her through. Somehow Rooftrellen is moving through the thick forest with ease, in spite of his extraordinary size.

While walking with Rooftrellen, Kaia notice the darkness creeping in around them. The sun is steadily descending. It has almost disappeared beneath the horizon; casting the last orange traces of daylight high in the sky; slowly fading away. A familiar smell meets Kaia’s nose. Smoke, from the village chimneys. They must be close to home. Rooftrellen has stopped, looking ahead. Kaia stops next to him. She can see the glow of light between the trees, not too far away now. A small weight is lifted out of her chest as she realises, she made it home safely. She looks up at Rooftrellen. He is standing very still, leaning against a tree, staring towards the village. Kaia gently takes his giant, furry hand. He doesn’t seem to notice. She starts walking towards home, trying to lead the giant creature. She has to show everyone that he is not evil, and that they can safely move through the forest. He will protect them. The creature is hesitant, but Kaia is persistent, and he follows her for a few yards. As they move, Kaia loses sight of the light through the trees. At first it is just hidden behind a tree for a second. Then it fades away, and then it is completely gone. She stops confused. She knows she saw the village just up ahead, but now she can’t see it at all. She looks up at Rooftrellen and feels her eyes watering. A new fear is trying to grab hold of her. The giant removes her hand from his and looks her in the eyes. With a deep hum, almost like a sigh, he turns away from her and starts walking back the way they came. Kaia doesn’t understand. She is looking after Rooftrellen as he walks away. She wants to follow him, but for some reason she feels like she shouldn’t. The giant slowly makes his way through the forest and before long it swallows him completely and he disappears from sight. The sound of a door opening makes Kaia turn around on the spot. She is at the edge of the woods. There are literally only two trees between her and the dirt path around the village. Kaia’s mother is standing outside their house. This is likely the first time she has ever been outside after dusk. Their eyes meet, and Kaia runs directly into her mother’s arms. She has so much to tell, just as soon as she is done hugging her mother.

#3: No longer Lost; an ending

Seven winters have passed since that day Kaia met Rooftrellen in the woods. She has spent all that time trying to change the stories that are told around Marquisk. Most of the villagers didn’t believe Kaia’s stories at first. They said she was making it all up, to avoid getting into trouble for wandering into the forest, and for breaking the curfew. For several moons, she was wasting her time arguing with the village elders, with no luck at all. The old stories have been told for generations, and no one wanted to believe that they were all wrong. Eventually Kaia decided on a different strategy. She started telling her own stories to the village children, whenever they had time to listen. At first the elders had forbidden it, but over time they all gave up, and let her tell her tales. ‘She is just a kid; the others know her stories aren’t true’ was what they told themselves. But as time went on, Kaia told her stories to more and more kids, and they all listened intently.

Kaia would tell the story of the Vorgresh, formerly know as Rooftrellen the Fiend. A huge forest creature that was believed to be an evil demon but had proven himself to be no demon at all. She would refer to him as Rooftrellen the Friend. A protector of the forest, and all who wander through it. A gentle giant with awesome powers, who would help those who got lost in the woods. A guardian who would help the dying pass into the afterlife and set free the spirits of the creatures of the forest, when their time would come.
Of course, it is still forbidden to walk into the woods, and Kaia makes sure to warn her audience about the dangers of the forest. Even with Rooftrellen guarding you, there is no reason to risk getting eaten by wolves or bears.

Kaia’s stories have started to gather a significant attention, and lately more and more adults and even some elders have started attending her tales. They may be sceptical to much of what she says, but she has a passion and spirit that gives the stories such life that no one can help them selves from wanting to listen.

The winter is on retreat as Kaia is telling one of her stories by the fire. Well over half the village have gathered to listen to her on this beautiful afternoon. She is walking back and forth, almost dancing as she is sharing her tales. Everyone is completely emerged in her magical narration when a young boy yelling from the edge of the woods interrupts the story. The fear and panic in his voice makes the whole village stop what they are doing and turn to look.

“Kaia! Kaia! They found him!”

Kaia is frozen mid-gesture as she looks towards the yelling.

“Kaia! The hunters found the Rooftrellen. They are hurting him!”

Kaia’s heart skips a beat, just as she sets of running towards the boy. Her bare feet are leaving long tracks in the dirt as she sprints towards the woods. Nolan comes tumbling out from behind a tree, as she reaches the wood line. He is on his knees, gasping for air after the sprint. Kaia knows a small party of the village men have been going out looking for Rooftrellen lately. They don’t believe her stories, and they think the creature could be a danger to the village. Despite Kaia telling them that Rooftrellen cannot leave the forest, they decided that they have to hunt and kill the beast, just to be safe. Kaia has had many bad dreams about the men finding her friend, but she never believed they could do it. The way Rooftrellen moved through the forest, she was sure no one could ever find him, unless he wanted to be found. But now maybe they had found him after all. And then what?

She feels tears start to blur her sight, as she comes to a stop next to Nolan. She is usually good with words, but not today.

“What happened?”

Her voice is trembling, and she can hardly breathe.

“The hunters. They wounded a deer and tracked it until Rooftrellen came to take it. Then they attacked with arrows and spears. I think they hit him. I heard him moan before he vanished into the woods. And they followed him. I ran here to get you. I don’t know what to do”

Nolan has started crying and Kaia puts her arms around him.

“It’s ok. You did what you could.”

She can feel him sobbing in her arms, when she realizes she is shaking. She is trying to control her breathing, but she can’t seem to calm down. Loud voices are heard deep in the forest.

“Get him, he is running towards the village!”

The hunters are nearing, and from the sound of it, they are still hunting Rooftrellen. Kaia looks up, in disbelief as the large creature comes crashing out from between the trees at the edge of the forest. He collapses on the ground just feet from Kaia and Nolan. Kaia is on her feet and by his side immediately. The large creature is breathing heavily, and as she runs her fingers through his fur, she feels something warm and sticky on her hands. She starts to cry again as she looks the creature in the eyes.

“Hello old friend. What did they do to you”

The hunting party appears from the tree line. They stop dead in their tracks when they see Kaia and for several seconds, they are completely paralysed by the sight of the young woman kneeling over the enormous creature, gently running her fingers through the fur. Ethan breaks the silence.

“Come on, let’s finish it”

Kaia flies of the ground to face him.

“No! Haven’t you done enough?!”

She is yelling and crying. Her voice is shaking, and her blood is boiling with anger.

“But we have to kill it. It could…”

The sound of Ethans jaw breaking under Kaia’s fist cuts his sentence short. The rest of the hunting party steps back in shock. Kaia has never resorted to violence. No one in the village thought she had a violent side at all. Ethan falls backwards like a felled tree and lands on his back with a hollow thump. Kaia is ready, just about to jump the next of the hunters when Rooftrellen gives a deep sigh. All the anger leaves her body, and she kneels back down next to him. He starts to speak in his deep monotone voice. His beautiful, ancient language that no one understands. Except, Kaia does understand. Not the individual words, but she understands what he is saying. He is telling her the secrets of the forest. He is telling her how the forest must be protected, just like the forest protects the village from the world around. He is telling her that a guardian has been chosen. He lifts his large, clawed hand and gently touch Kaia’s chest. She feels a warmth from him. He says it is his time to go, and her time to stay. She understands, but not really. She can understand what he is telling her, but not what it means. Rooftrellen sighs deeply and slowly. His entire body relaxes. Tears are running down Kaia’s cheeks as she leans in to look him in the eyes, only to see the bright white eyes turn pale grey. She buries her head in his fur, sobbing quietly. A silence falls over the village and the forest. The sound of the wind in the trees disappear and the birds quiet down.

After a minute, Kaia turns her face to the hunters who are still standing mostly paralysed by the fantastic scene.

“You did this. Are you happy now?”

She is whispering, but the hunters have no trouble hearing her. She starts to stand up, and the hunters all tumble backwards in fear as a bright light shines from the body of Rooftrellen where her hands have been. She looks at her own hands in awe as she starts to understand. The spirit of Rooftrellen rises, white and glowing like the full moon. And he soon stands tall looking at Kaia. Kaia is looking into his eyes, that are whiter than ever, for a few seconds, before he walks into the woods and disappears. The ancient creature is finally free.

The hunters all retreat another few feet, when vines and roots slither like snakes out of the ground and swallow the large corpse. In just seconds the ground eats the giant, and no trace is left of him. Kaia is feeling much calmer now. She understands everything and looks to the hunters.

“Who did this? Which of you killed Rooftrellen? Who murdered the protector of our forest?”

Each of the hunters paler than the next are in no hurry to talk, but Kaia patiently waits for one of them to regain the courage to speak.

“Not us. Asher got him with the spear. But a pack of wolves got Asher just as we were running after the monster. Surely, he is long gone by now. They looked really hungry.”

Kaia looks into the forest behind the hunters. She has a feeling Ashes is in there. She knows the wolves didn’t eat him all up. Without wasting another look on the hunters, she walks of into the woods. She is moving swiftly and quietly through the thick undergrowth. It feels so natural to her now. Like the forest is guiding her the right way. Before long she finds herself in a small clearing. Asher is on the ground bleeding from many large rifts and gashes all over his body. He is crying.

Kaia feels the anger coming back. Like a boiling river flowing through her body. This man killed her oldest and dearest friend. A beautiful, peaceful creature of the forest. She is just about to walk over to him, when a small bird lands on her shoulder and chirps cheerfully, like nothing is wrong in the world. A new feeling fills her body. A gentle calmness. Warm and peaceful. She hears the soft ruffling of the wind in the treetops and the birds on the branches. She feels the breeze on her face, and she can smell the first spring flowers blooming. She walks over and kneels by Ashers side. His body is shaking from the fear and pain, tears still streaming down his bloodied face. He looks up at her and catches her eyes.

“Kaia? I’m sorry. I didn’t know”.

Kaia gently puts her hand on Ashers chest and whisper in his ear.

“It’s ok, Asher. The forest will take care of you know. You are free”

Her kind smile and soft voice eases his pain, and he stops shaking. A warm feeling of blissful peace rushes over him as he breathes out for the last time. Kaia stands up, and watches as his spirit rises from his corpse and walks into the forest. As the vines and roots shoot out of the ground to take his earthly remains, Kaia looks around the forest. Her new home.

Written 01/03-2022

At night they walk through the streets. They look like regular people, but in reality, they are horrible monsters. When you see them, you won’t be able to tell that they are not human. They won’t hunt you, like other monsters. And they won’t mangle you or eat you flesh either. They simply walk around, carefully looking for prey. Only a few people know that monsters even exist, and even fewer believe that the Night Marchers are actually real. There are never any traces after them, other than a few people go missing over a couple of days. This is what makes them such excellent predators, and also what makes them so dangerous to hunt.

The lore, what little there is, tells us that the Night Marchers are immortal, never aging creatures. No one knows if they actually kill their victims, but it is said that if you look a Night Marcher in the eyes, you are bound to walk with them for eternity. Maybe as one of them. Maybe as their slave. It is impossible to say, since no one has been able to provide a firsthand account of the monsters.

After years I have finally managed to track one of them down. The trick is to follow the disappearings and start looking for the patterns. It has taken several months to catch up to the creature, and now I am finally getting close. It has been walking from town to town, never resting. I know I’m not far behind now. I tracked it to a small town a few miles off the nearest highway, but I haven’t figured out how to go the last stretch just yet. Tracking it to this town is one thing, but actually getting close enough to trap it or kill it is a whole other deal.

The sun is going down, and I’ve decided to take a walk through the town, trying to figure out how to get closer to the monster. Maybe I’ll get lucky and spot it. Or maybe I’ll find a way to track it more reliably than what I have been doing so far. Either way I’m going to learn all I can about this creature, so I can finally catch it. Or better yet kill it.

At first, I go to a large parking lot at the outskirts of town, by the main road. The creature would most likely have passed through here just a few hours ago. I don’t believe I will find much help here, but I have to start somewhere. From the lot, I follow the main road into town. There’s not much life here at this time. The shops are closed for the night, and most of the houses are already dark. The town has very little night life. I wonder why a Night Marcher would go here. They are supposed to hunt at night, but if there is no prey to be found they won’t have much purpose.

Further into the town I come across the town square. The area is surrounded by small shops, a few restaurants and bars and has a fountain in the centre. It’s been a long road coming here, so I decide to grant myself a few moments of rest. I walk up to a place called Brews and Bacon. Apparently, it is both a bar and a breakfast cafe. As I walk in, there are only about five people in the place. Two drunks at a table in the corner are arguing over a card game. Two middle-aged men are at the bar discussing some sort of business deal. And finally, a man is sitting alone at a table at the far end of the room. He is holding a newspaper, but he seems to be more interested in what everyone else is doing than the words on the pages. I look over at him as I walk up to the bar, and he quickly looks down and takes a sip of his coffee. A soft woman’s voice pulls my attention away from the strange man. ”Don’t mind him, he’s just curious. What can I get you?”. The young woman looks a bit shy for a bartender. She is about nineteen, her hair has a colour that reminds me of chestnuts and her smile makes me feel like I’m back home with my friends. ”Uhm.. A porter, please.” I answer. She nods politely, grabs a glass, and start filling it from the tap. Just when she places the beer on the bar, three very upset men walk through the door. The man in front is talking loudly to the others, with a hint of scorn in his voice.

”What do you mean ’he just disappeared’? A grown ass man don’t just vanish into the night without a trace”. The man behind him is shaking his head. His eyes are widened, and his eyebrows are pulled so far up his forehead that it looks as if they are trying to escape the big eyes. ”I’m telling you John. He was right there, I grabbed the rods from the truck, and when I turned back round, he wasn’t. And there’s no place he could have went. I swear, there’s something going on.”

The third man push past the first two to get to the bar, while mocking his friend. ”Sure, something is going on. You are losing your mind. He probably got tired of waiting for you getting gear out of the car and went for a beer somewhere. Anita! Three cold ones”. The bartender, whose name evidently is Anita, quickly starts pouring three beers. ”What’s going on guys? You lose someone?”, she asks jokingly. The one named John shakes his head and shrug. ”We brought Sam out for fishing in the pond, and then he up and Houdinied on us. Peter thinks it’s aliens that took him”. Peter leans on the bar. ”Not saying it’s aliens. Just that I don’t understand where he went.” Anita serves the men their beers. She puts her small, pale hand on Peters arm as if to comfort him. ”I’m sure it wasn’t aliens. But maybe a monster got him. Or the giant shark in the pond.” Peter isn’t amused but the other two laugh loudly, as Anita walks off to serve the two businessmen further down the bar. From all of this I can only assume that this is my one and only fresh lead in my hunt. I ask the men where I can find the pond and they tell me the direction to go.

As I leave the bar, I walk at a fair pace. The monster is unlikely to hang around the pond for long. It might already be gone, but this is the freshest lead I have ever had. I have to try my best to find any tracks it might have left behind. I can’t believe that it would grab someone out from a group like this, but maybe it is desperate for food in this very dull town.

I arrive at the pond and quickly walk around the area, and around the pond. I don’t know what I am looking for, but I have a strong feeling I will know when I find it. Maybe a clue or proof that a Night Marcher was actually here. Maybe some evidence of that guy, Sam, being grabbed from here. Or maybe I might even run into the monster itself. As I search the area meticulously, I start to wonder what I would actually do if I did find it. I don’t have a way to kill it or trap it. And to be honest I don’t even know if it can be killed at all.

I search the park around the pond for over an hour. Look through the mud, and up every tree. Not that there are a lot of trees. The park seems mostly barren. After going over the entire area a third time, I decide to call it quits. I found nothing out of the ordinary, and the fatigue is getting to me, so I start walking back to the bar. I can’t believe the monster wouldn’t leave any trace at all. There must be some way of proving that it is, or was, here. After having a few beers at the bar, I head back to my car to turn in for the night.

The next morning, I decide to go back to Brews and Bacon for some breakfast. When I get there, John, from the night before, is sitting at a table having a large brunch. I order the same and sit at a table. Anita serves it with her usual smile, and pours the steaming, black coffee. The door swings open and a young man walks in. I immediately hear John from behind me: ”Sam! Where have you been? Peter thought aliens got you last night”. Sam waltzes over to Johns table and pulls up a chair. ”I went to take a piss. But I had to go quite far to find a suitable tree, in that bloody park. When I came back you were all gone.”

This would mean Sam wasn’t taken by the Night Marcher after all. Maybe I was wrong all along. Maybe the Night Marcher walked straight through the town and on to the next. I can’t believe I wasted all this time, only to find that I might not be nearly as close to the monster as I thought. I’m drifting in my own thoughts when Anita comes over to refill my coffee. ”Something the matter? You seem a bit gloomy”. I shake my head lightly. ”No, I’m fine. It’s just”, I hesitate a bit before finally finding the words. ”It’s just a project of mine, that hasn’t gone the way I planned”. Anita smiles as she pours the coffee. ”Not to worry. It’ll be ok. Maybe this just isn’t a good town for a hunt.”

My fork freeze halfway between the plate and my mouth. The entire world is standing still for a second, while I process her words. I finally turn my head and look up at her and catch her gaze. As a cold, tingling sensation rolls down my back, I realize that this is the first time she has looked me directly in the eyes. And there is something wrong with her eyes. Like they aren’t human.

Written 12/02-2021

It is midafternoon on a Monday when I roll into the parking lot in front of the big office building. The sun is already descending, casting long, oddly shaped shadows from the trees around the lot. I park my car and walk up to the building. The door automatically slides open when I get close enough for the sensors to see me. Entering the building I find myself in a large open reception. Apart from a single piece of abstract, modernistic art on the wall furthest to the left, everything is completely white. The floors, walls, stairs on the right, the doors leading further into the building. All the same white, making everything seem to blend together. Even the large front desk is completely white. No logo or company name. I walk up to the desk to find a young woman sitting behind it, looking at a computer screen, typing steadily. She pays no attention to me, as I approach. I look at her nervously and start fumbling for the note in my pocket. “Hi, I’m here for an interview. I have an appointment with Mr… Uhmm.” I look at my note, trying to make out the name I scribbled down earlier, but she cuts me of before I can finish my inquiry. “Yes, Mr. Almbase will be with you in a second”. She never even moves her eyes from the screen, and her fingers keep dancing tirelessly over the keyboard in front of her.

Almbase. Now that she said it, it seems much easier to read on the slightly crumbled note in my hand. Before I have a chance to respond to her, a mans voice reaches me from the top of the stairs. “Mr. Christensen? Follow me this way please”. The man turns around and walks through an automatic door behind him. I glance at the woman at the desk one last time as I start making my way to the stairs. Her eyes are still firmly fixed on the computer screen.

I had expected the door at the top of the stairs to lead to a hallway or a big open office space, but instead I find myself in a small conference room. The walls and the floor are clinically white. There are no windows, but the entire ceiling is made of square light panels, bathing the room in a very evenly distributed white light. In the middle of the room is a large table. A middle-aged woman is sitting at the table reading a light-grey dossier. I’m assuming it’s my application and her notes on it, but there seems to be quite a few pages. My resume and application for the job both fit on one page, so I wonder what the rest of the pages are. The man is making his way around the table to sit next to the woman. He adjusts his chair slightly before looking at me. “Mr. Christensen, my name is Mr. Almbase, we spoke on the phone, briefly. This is Mrs. Hughes. Please take a seat.” He is gesturing to a chair at the table opposite himself and Mrs. Hughes. I hesitate for a moment, but finally sit down and look at them. As soon as I sit down, Mrs. Hughes closes the dossier and looks me straight in the eyes. “Help yourself to a glass of water should you feel the need.” I only now notice the decanter and glasses at the end of the table. “But for now, let us just get right into it, shall we? First of all, what motivated you to apply for the position at our company? And what is it you think we do here?”.

I must say I’m used to quite a lot of small talk at the beginning of this kind of meeting, but apparently that is not how these people do things. The honest answers to her questions would of course be that I have no idea what they do at this place. And my motivation is mostly that I currently do not have a job, and I need one to pay my bills. I cannot tell her that though, which is why I’ve been practicing a better answer for this kind of question. “Well, I found your job posting and looked up your company. From what I could read, this is a very nice workplace, with plenty of opportunities for both personal and professional growth. It is my understanding that you do research and development in a broad range of areas, mostly to do with artificial intelligence, augmented and virtual reality. You also have several fairly extensive research projects surrounding neuroscience and psychology.” Mr. Almbase is nodding slowly, but Mrs. Hughes is just staring at me, through her big square glasses. Neither of them seems to have anything to say, so I continue: “The job posting didn’t have a lot of detail, on the actual job. It was mostly a description of the benefits and the achievements of the company. I would like to know more, so maybe you can tell me about the position? What will I actually be doing here?”.

Mr. Almbase glances at his colleague, whose eyes are still firmly fixed on me. She shifts slightly in her seat. “We will get to the specifics of the job soon enough. The job posting suggested you should read up on a few specific terms. Please explain those to us, to show that you have fully understood the concepts.” The job listing did mention a few terms that I had read up on, however briefly, to get an understanding of them.

“Ok, it mentioned confidentiality, meaning anything I hear or see here is to be kept secret. I cannot tell anyone about the work that I or anyone else does here. It is a practice used mainly for protecting corporate secrets and classified information. It also mentioned psychological evaluations, where a professional psychologist makes a medical assessment of a persons’ mental health. It is used to form an indication of whether a person is likely to be able to handle whatever job they are supposed to do and whether that person is mentally healthy in general. Finally, it mentioned hazard pay. My understanding is that that it is a practice of paying someone a handsome bonus for doing dangerous work. I think it is mainly used for people working in mines or war zones.”

The two interviewers look at each other for a short while, before Mr. Almbase nods slowly. Mrs. Hughes turns to me once again, reopens the dossier, glancing over one of the pages, and then looks back at me. “Very good. Now if you could please tell us in just a few words why you believe you would be the right choice for this position.” She looks over the rim of the square glasses and folds her hands over the now closed dossier.

As I still have practically no information on the job I applied for, I am not sure what to say to this one either. However, she and Mr. Almbase both seem to expect an answer. “Yes, of course. I believe I would fit this role nicely, as I am a great team player, but I am also greatly confident in my own work and not scared to take responsibility for various tasks on my own. I go at every assignment with great enthusiasm and a professional ‘can do’ attitude. I have some experience as a team leader, but I am also very compliant when working as part of the teams working force. When working on my own, I find great pleasure in working towards the best result that I can possibly produce. In case I get stuck in a task or need more information, I will not shy away from asking a more senior colleague or searching for answers in the company documentation or online. I am very skilled at estimating the time to complete a task, and I deliver on time. It is important to me to live up to both my own expectations, and the expectations of others.”

I must have nailed it pretty good. Mr. Almbase is nodding faster than usual. “Very good. Now, do you or any of your immediate family suffer from any chronic or hereditary illness or infirmities?”.

Without letting the rapit change in topic throw me off, I answer, “No sir. Both I and my family are healthy as can be.” Mrs. Hughes quickly flips to a page in the dossier, circles something on the page and turns the file, to show Mr. Almbase. He is staring at the page for a few seconds, then turns to me. “Allergies, phobias, depression. Stop me if I mention something you suffer from or have suffered from in the past. Recurring nightmares, suicidal thoughts or tendencies, self-harm in any way, anger management issues, impaired vision or hearing, back- or knee-pain, inflammation of any internal organs.” He stops for a second. “No? None of the above? Impressive.” He looks back at the dossier on the table, then looks at Mrs. Hughes. “I believe he might be.” He mutters under his breath.

Mrs. Hughes closes the dossier again and leans onto the table a little, as she turns to me once more. “This all seems very promising Mr. Christensen. If you feel the same way, we would like to offer you a contract right away. If you sign it, you will start tomorrow morning. We will show you the rest of the offices and your work area then. Your starting salary will be a fixed rate of four thousand five hundred dollars pr month. On top of that we have a standard hazard compensation program, that is paid as an hourly rate. The rate is one hundred and fifty dollars, pr hour, multiplied by the HCP-score of the project to which you are assigned. The HCP-score is of course closely tied to the type of project and the risks it involves. How does this sound?”.

I am completely stunned at the fact that she just offered me a job out of nowhere. No consideration period, no second interviews, no thorough background check. “That sounds, good, I guess. But what would an HCP-score usually be for a project? And what risks could it involve? I feel like that is something that is quite important to know before making a decision.”

Mrs. Hughes smiles slightly. “Of course. The HCP-scores vary greatly between projects. Currently the lowest score for a project is at zero point six. The scores can be anything above that really. The type of risk it involves will also vary and can be anything from watching a film design to trigger epileptic seizures to handling hazardous objects or materials.” While she answers my question, she carefully plucks a sheet of paper from the dossier and pushes it towards me. I read through the contract and quickly decide to sign it. When it is signed, I hand it back to Mrs. Hughes, and she tucks it back in the dossier. “Thank you for your time, Mr. Christensen. We will see you tomorrow.” She folds her hands on the table and smiles at me. Mr. Almbase stands up, quickly nods at me, then at Mrs. Hughes and leaves the office. A bit confused by the sudden end of the interview, I get up and leave as well.

It is an early Tuesday morning as I roll into the parking lot of my new workplace. It feels great to finally have a job again, but I am a bit nervous, as I have no idea what I am going to be doing here. As I walk up to the doors of the building and they slide open, I see Mrs. Hughes standing in front of the big, white front desk, where the young woman is still sitting, typing effortlessly. I smile at the two women. “Good morning.”

The young woman ignores me completely, still fixated on the screen. Mrs. Hughes smiles slightly, “Good morning, Mr. Christensen. Follow me please.” She quickly walks off to the left towards a white door, that she opens with an electronic keycard. I follow her through the door into a long corridor. The walls and floor here are just as plain white as the rest of the building and the ceiling is entirely made of the same light panels as they had in the conference room. Along the corridor there are several doors, all requiring keycards to enter and all with small signs describing the department they are hiding. Apparently, this place does everything from animatronics to experimental medicine. I pause at a door marked ‘Long Range Cognitive Stimulation and Manipulation’. To me that looks like a fancy way of saying mind control, but that seems absurd.

“Mr. Christensen, your department is in here”. Mrs. Hughes has stopped in front of a door and has opened it. I quickly make my way to her and read the sign on my department: ‘Classified Experiments’. I pause for a second at the door, but Mrs. Hughes is already walking down the hallway behind the door. I follow her and the door closes behind me. The walls on both sides of this narrow hall are covered in many more white doors, but these have no signs or even numbers. I wonder how anyone would ever find anything in this building. A few meters in front of me, Mrs. Hughes has stopped in front of a door. When I catch up, she looks at me with a serious frown. “All right. This is your office in here. When you go in, you will find a file on the table explaining your task. Follow the instructions carefully, to ensure the best and safest results. Good luck.” With those words she pushes the door open to reveal a large square room. In the middle of the room is a table with a dossier on it, not unlike the one she was reading from the day before. I go into the room, and she closes the door behind me. The room is completely white, like everything else in the building. I hesitate a bit at this odd start to a new job, but after a few seconds I walk up to the table and open the file. There is a single sheet of paper in it. On the page is my name, today’s date, the company address and phone number and then a description of my task. The description is short, and easy to understand, and yet it makes absolutely no sense.

‘Task description: Stand in this room. Do not lay down or sit on the floor or the table. Do not touch the walls. Do not move, turn, or flip the table. Do not attempt to leave before a representative from the company asks you to. Leave the file on the table when you are ready to start.’

After reading the description a few times, and checking the file for more pages, I am still very confused about this new job. But what truly scares me is the last line of the page in the file.

‘HCP-score: 86’

With the hazard compensation payout being one hundred and fifty dollars multiplied by the HCP score, that means I will be paid twelve thousand and nine hundred dollars pr hour to stand in this room. I look back at the door and realize that there is no door handle on this side. I put the page back in the dossier and throw it on the table. I am ready.

Written 15/02-2021

A cold January morning, Jacquelin and her father are walking through the snow in the eastern end of the old forest. The sun is gleaming through the big, twisted tree crowns, that are cowered in snow and ice. The air is cold, to a point where it almost bites the skin, but they are both wearing plenty of layers to keep them warm. Jacquelin is playfully jumping back and forth between the trees and playing in the snow, while her father is walking behind her, carrying their skates.

When they get to the forest lake, Jacquelin is just about to run out on the ice, but stops right at the edge, when she remembers that her father has to check if it is safe first. She looks back at him with big anticipating eyes. He laughs through his beard, “Easy now girl. We’ll be on the ice soon enough.” He throws the skates in the snow and picks up a thick, sturdy branch. He slowly moves out on the edge of the iced over lake and pokes it with the branch. He carefully walks with small steps further and further out on the ice, as he checks for weak spots. When he is about ten meters out on the ice, and has found no thin patches on the ice, he turns to face his daughter. He lifts the branch over the ice and stamps it down with great force. The ice immediately responds with a characteristic song, roaring through the forest. Jacquelin is on the lake shore with wide eyes and her jaw almost dropped to the ground. She has heard the song of the ice a few times before, but the astonishing tunes that it produces always fills her with wonder and amazement. Her father joins her back on the shore and they strap on their skates. As soon as her skates are on, she run out on the ice. She quickly gains speed, and before long the cold winter air ruffling her hair and making her eyes water, makes her feel like she is flying, as free as the birds, high above the forest.

Her father is taking a slower and more conservative approach. He was once as young and spirited as his daughter, doing speed laps around the lake, pushing his skills to the limit. But these days he prefers a much smoother and gentler ride over the vast frozen surface. He lets the ice, and the skates guide him, and he goes where it feels natural to go. To him, skating has become meditational, feeling every bump and beautiful imperfection in the ice. Getting to know the surface of the lake like a friend, while being hypnotized by the magical and spiritual songs of the thick, sturdy ice. At the south side of the lake the sun is casting the shadows of the trees over the ice in curious shapes. He decides to follow the edge of the shadow for a while as he soaks in the magic that is the nature around him.

Jacquelin is running across the ice as fast as she can. She has to squint her eyes, to see where she is going, but she doesn’t care. When she cannot possibly build any more speed, she decides to try her stopping skills. She leans back, and forces the skates sideways, cutting long, deep tracks in the top layer of the ice. After just a few feet, she comes to a complete stop and immediately pushes off with all the strength her legs can muster. In a matter of seconds, she is sprinting across the ice in the direction she just came from. She is getting very good at controlling the skates and changing direction. Most of the other kids from town has no chance to keep up when they are skating together.

She slows down a bit to look out over the vast ice plain. Her father is at the other end of the lake, gliding over the ice, entranced by his own thoughts. She smiles and sets off to join him. It doesn’t take her long to get close to him, and she decides to go in a big arch around him before taking his hand and skating alongside him for a while. Neither of them say anything. They just enjoy the songs of the ice below them, the breeze, gently ruffling the trees above them and the odd snowbird chirping away in the distance.

They skate around the lake for hours. Dancing and doing pirouettes. Drawing on the ice with the skates. Trying to skate perfectly synchronously and trying to make the ice sing as beautifully as possible. They race and play games.

Until all of their games are interrupted by the ice making a sound that cannot be described as singing. It is more of a snapping sound, followed by a deep roar. They both stop dead in their tracks and look at each other. Jacquelins eyes are widened with fear, and she can hardly breathe. She is fighting to stand as still as possible and not disturb the ice under her feet anymore. “Dad?” she whispers. Her father is standing a few feet away. He knows he is completely powerless to what happens next. If he tries to go to her, he could disturb the ice. Even reaching for her might shift his weight enough to make the ice open up and eat his beautiful daughter. He doesn’t have a chance to finish his line of thoughts before the ice gives way under the young girl, and she disappears into the cold dark water with a scream. For a second, he waits. She knows how to get out of the water. He taught her this. If only she still has her senses, she will break the surface and crawl on to the ice on her own, and they can go home safely. But she doesn’t come to the surface, and he knows it is a matter of seconds now. He dives into the hole after her. The ice shards hurt as he crashes through them and into the icy water. Every muscle in his body automatically contracts, as the lake closes around him. He forces himself to open his eyes. It is hard to see anything under the ice. Not a lot of light is getting through the thick, frozen surface. Despite the darkness and the water hurting his eyes, he spots his daughter deeper in the water and starts pushing down through the horrifying blackness to get to her.

He fights vigorously to get through the water, but it is hard to swim with all the heavy clothes he is wearing. When he finally reaches her, she is heavier than he had imagined, and pulling her up through the water is even harder than swimming down. He pulls her up to where he can put one arm around her lifeless body, before kicking as hard as he can, trying to gain momentum towards the surface. He is running out of breath. The ice-cold water is burning his eyes and, in his mouth, and nose. It is hurting his skin all over the body like thousand knives cutting away at him. His muscles are trying to cramp, and he can barely get them to function. His lungs are screaming for air, and he has to fight every nerve in his body to not breathe in the icy water.

He feels like it is taking hours to get to the surface, but finally he starts to see the light from the ice more clearly. It never occurred to him just how fast a hole in the ice can freeze over. When they reach the point where they went into the water just minutes ago, the large chunks of ice are already firmly trapped in newly formed ice on top. He tries to push the ice out o the way with no luck. He pulls himself together and with all the force he can conjure he pounds the bottom of the ice. It doesn’t break. He tries again. Still no luck. He attempts one last time, but his arms fail him. He can no longer move, and he slowly loses grip of Jacquelin. He looks at her. She seems to have woken up, and for a few seconds he stares into her beautiful, sad eyes.

Written 03/03-2021