NOTE: Writing this story is a backnforth flashbacks and present time, I hope you won't be confused. If it's italized it means flashback and if not it's in the present time. Hope this answers the confusion. Thank you❤️
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Once upon a time, there was a woman named Marina and her son, Macelion, eking out a meager existence as commoners. Despite their poverty, they found solace in each other's company, their bond unwavering amidst the hardships they faced.
Marina's youthful appearance had long been the subject of rumors in the village. Whispers of dark magic and deals with sinister entities circulated among the superstitious villagers, casting a shadow of suspicion upon Marina and her son.
As paranoia gripped the village, Marina and Macelion became outcasts in their own community. They endured relentless harassment, their home vandalized and their provisions withheld by fearful neighbors.
When Macelion fell gravely ill, Marina pleaded for aid from the villagers, but her pleas fell on deaf ears. Desperate, she turned to the soldiers stationed nearby, offering herself in exchange for the means to save her son. But the soldiers, driven by cruelty and lust,
"Anything?"
They took tadvantage of Marina's vulnerability, leaving her broken and humiliated.
"Whore" they stated spitting in her face.
Despite Marina's frantic efforts, Macelion succumbed to his illness, his life slipping away as Marina watched helplessly, consumed by grief and despair.
She looked up to the moon and said 'what a beautiful moon you are, if only it wasn't tonight.'.
In the aftermath of her son's death, the villagers, plagued by guilt and remorse, sought forgiveness from Marina. But their apologies rang hollow, mere echoes of their earlier cruelty.
Marina's smile, once warm and genuine, now held a chilling edge as she accepted their apologies, her eyes gleaming with an otherworldly light.
....
"Marina, we're very sorry for what we did to you. We didn't mean to do that. Hope you'll understand our concerns with settling with witches." The villagers told Marina.
Marina looked at them and smiled, her eyes twinkling. "It's all in the past, my son's doing great now."
They will always see the child standing at the rooftop with his black Raven hair fluttering, his eyes black, looking at the moon. Often smiling or muttering something to himself.
Every time the villagers bring this up to Marina, she will only clasped her hands together tilts her head to the side with a smile and says, "Isn't our Macelion adorable?"
...
As time passed, strange occurrences plagued the village. The mutilated bodies of soldiers were discovered in the nearby woods, their remains bearing the marks of unspeakable violence.
Despite their fear, the villagers dared not speak of the horrors that plagued their village, lest they draw the attention of the malevolent force that lurked in the darkness.
"Have you heard? Soldiers were found dead in the woods! It seems like some beasts ambushed them."
"More like an assassination. I've been in this hunting business for years, and no beast has put their preys on a collar when killing."
"Ha! Told ya, they will found themselves in a dangerous situation someday after how they arrogantly act."
"But isn't it to brutal? Their eyes were plucked out, limbs torn apart, fingers cut and nails removed! You can't even recognize them anymore, it looks more of a torture!"
"They're dicks are cut-off! I think they deserve it, they always harass us women."
"Yeah, one of those is Mari---" they immediately covered her mouth with their palms with a gesture.
A boy came in to the tavern, with a bag full of fruits and vegetables. "Uncle! Delivery is here."
"Ah! Thanks child, where have you been? I've been expecting you since yesterday but you didn't come. Come here! This food is for you and your mom." The uncle pack a lot of foods in different containers giving it to the boy.
"Wait... Didn't we met Macelion in the same woods yesterday?"
"Uh-huh, he said he was teaching his pet."
"Glad he didn't encounter whatever they encountered."
"Yeah, that would be horrifying for a child."
...
"Should we even do this? The child is already pitiful!"
"Hush your mouth. Today is a victory; that wretched woman is finally dead. The boy is no threat to us now."
The two thieves moved through the abandoned house like ghosts in the night, their steps muffled by the thick layer of dust that coated the floor. Moonlight filtered through the tattered curtains, casting eerie shadows that seemed to writhe and twist with malevolent intent.
"Then, shouldn't we at least check if the boy is awake?"
"Are you stupid? Thieves have no compassion for their victims. The boy's fate is of no concern to us."
"But you know..."
"Silence! I heard something."
They crept through the darkness, their senses sharp as they navigated the labyrinthine corridors of the old house. Outside, the sky rumbled with the distant threat of a storm, adding to the oppressive atmosphere that hung heavy in the air.
"Damn, it's too dark in here. Use your magic or something to make a light!" one of the thieves demanded, his voice trembling with fear. But his companion remained silent, a shadowy presence at his side.
"Michelle?"
"Ugh... What's that foul stenched supposed to be."
He reached out into the darkness, his fingers brushing against something cold and clammy. With a gasp, he recoiled in horror as the moonlight revealed Michelle's severed head, her lifeless eyes staring into the abyss.
As the thief's frantic gaze swept the room, horror clenched his heart like a vice. The scene before him was a nightmare made manifest, a twisted tableau of death and mutilation that defied all reason.
Strewn across the floor lay the remains of both humans and beasts, their bodies torn asunder with savage precision. Organs glistened in the dim light, like macabre trophies displayed by some deranged collector. Among the carnage, he recognized faces from the village - friends, neighbors, and even loved ones, their eyes vacant and mouths frozen in silent screams of agony.
The air was heavy with the metallic tang of blood and decay, a suffocating miasma that seemed to seep into his very soul. Who could have perpetrated such unspeakable horrors? And for what twisted purpose?
In the midst of his terror, a voice pierced the silence like a dagger, sending shivers down his spine.
"Where are you going?"
He turned, his heart pounding in his chest, to find a figure lurking in the shadows. It was a child, but there was nothing innocent about the gleam in his eyes or the wicked grin that stretched across his face.
With slow, deliberate steps, the child emerged from the darkness, a gleaming knife clutched in his hand like a talisman of death. The thief's breath caught in his throat as he realized the true horror of his predicament - he was trapped in the lair of a sadistic killer, a monster disguised in the guise of innocence.
Panic seized him, driving him to flee, but the room seemed to twist and contort around him, its dimensions shifting like the fevered nightmare of a madman. With each step he took, the walls closed in, squeezing the air from his lungs and his heart.
And as he stumbled and fell, the child's laughter echoed in his ears, a chilling symphony of madness.
...
As murmurs of concern rippled through the tavern, tension hung thick in the air like a suffocating fog. The villagers, once a tight-knit community bound by camaraderie, now found themselves divided by suspicion and fear. The disappearances had cast a dark shadow over their once peaceful village, leaving them grasping at straws for answers.
"It's been months since Andrew and Michelle left, and now more villagers are vanishing without a trace," remarked one concerned villager, breaking the uneasy silence that had settled over the tavern.
"I've heard whispers that they've gone to seek their fortune in another city," another chimed in, her voice tinged with apprehension. "But given their ambitious nature, perhaps they've stumbled upon something more sinister."
Indeed, the disappearances had become a disturbing pattern, with each instance leaving the villagers bewildered and fearful for their own safety. Some attributed the vanishing acts to accidents or misfortunes, while others couldn't shake the feeling that something more nefarious was at play.
Amidst the growing unease, all eyes turned to one figure – Macelion, the son of Marina, the woman who had died years ago under mysterious circumstances. Though he had grown into a respected member of the community, his resemblance to his late mother only fueled suspicions among the villagers.
"Is it possible that Marina's curse has befallen us all?" whispered a superstitious old man, his eyes darting nervously around the room.
"Or perhaps her son has inherited her powers and seeks vengeance for her untimely demise," suggested another, his voice trembling with fear.
The mere mention of Marina's name sent shivers down their spines, evoking memories of the dark cloud that had once loomed over the village. Accusations of witchcraft had followed her every step, and now, with the disappearances plaguing the village, those suspicions resurfaced with renewed fervor.
But amidst the chaos and paranoia, one voice rose above the rest – that of Uncle, the village chief, who had long served as a voice of reason in times of crisis.
"Enough!" he bellowed, his words cutting through the clamor like a knife. "We cannot allow fear and suspicion to tear us apart. We must confront this crisis with level heads and open hearts."
His impassioned plea brought a temporary lull to the chaos, as the villagers turned their attention to him, hanging on his every word.
"I will personally visit Macelion and speak with him," Uncle declared, his voice firm with resolve. "But let us not forget the lessons of our past. Accusations and blame will only sow discord among us. We must stand united against whatever darkness threatens our village."
With his words echoing in their ears, the villagers nodded in solemn agreement.
...
"Are you sure nothing's amiss? Nothing you need to tell me?" the man asked, his gaze lingering on the back of the child hunched over his scribblings, the scratching of his pen a frantic counterpoint to the otherwise silent room.
The child turned, a smile blooming on his face – a smile too perfect, too polished, like a porcelain doll's. He looked up, his eyes wide and guileless. "What do you mean, Uncle? Is something wrong?" The smile wavered, replaced by a fleeting expression of vulnerability that seemed almost practiced.
'How could they associate this child, with his cherubic face and innocent demeanor, with the horrors plaguing the village?'
The older man's heart clenched with a mixture of adoration and pity.
'The boy lost his mother only months ago, and now they dare to taint him with their superstitions?'
He reached out, his calloused hand engulfing the child's small, almost unnaturally cold fingers. "Don't fret, child. With me here, nothing will touch you. I won't let them harm you. I swore it to your mother."
A flicker, like a trapped insect, darted behind the child's eyes – a brief glimpse of something ancient and knowing. But the older man missed it, lost in his own protective fervor.
The child slid off the chair, his movements too fluid, too graceful for a boy his age. He approached, that cloying smile reasserting itself as he embraced the man. "Really?" he whispered, his voice a soft, almost melodic hum.
"Hmm," the man hummed, patting his back in a reassuring rhythm.
"You promise?" The child's grip tightened, his small hands pressing into the man's back with surprising strength.
The man chuckled, ruffling the child's hair, but the gesture felt awkward, forced. He drew back to look at him, and the smile was still there, but now it was…wrong. Too wide, stretching the corners of his mouth into an unnatural curve. It didn't reach his eyes. It sent a shiver crawling up the older man's spine, a primal unease that he couldn't quite place, but he dismissed it as exhaustion.
"I'll silence their whispers. Pay them no mind. Just be yourself."
The child hugged him again, his face pressed against the man's chest, his voice muffled but insistent. "You promise? You really promise?" The repetition, the almost desperate need for reassurance, was unsettling. The older man's heart pounded in his chest.
What happened to her… I won't let it happen to her child.
"The sun dips low, Macellion. I must return. Eat the dinner I brought; your aunt is eager to see you tomorrow."
He released the child, stepping towards the door, and waved goodbye to the smiling boy. The smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.
The child waved back until the man disappeared from sight. Then, the smile dissolved like sugar in water, leaving behind a chillingly blank expression. His small fist tightened around the edge of the table, the knuckles white against his pale skin, his eyes fixed on the untouched food with a predatory hunger. A chilling gust of wind swept through the room, rattling the windows despite being shut, carrying with it the faint scent of decay and something else… something ancient and malevolent.
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JRS STORIES