WNADC Chap 4 - The Corpse-Worms

         As she faded back into consciousness, the young girl wondered if she was dead.

         Did it really matter? She was taken away, and she felt buried. What had happened? She could feel nothing…

         She remembered the sunny day, the cheerful birds, the wispy clouds, and the clear stream running into the shallow end of the lake. She remembered the diamond-sparkling waterfalls, the cool mossy bank in the shade, and the laughter of children splashing in the water.

         She only rarely played with the other children, especially not in the water. She had to remain content splashing her hands and feet in the stream while looking for frogs and rocks. As she got older, she began drawing and then painting while sitting on the shaded, mossy bank. A strange prophet had found her talent one day when he sat with her in the shade as he passed through the town. Her pale skin could not take much sun. Either way, she was usually alone. At times, one of her sisters or brothers would play with her a while, yet it was mostly out of pity. She was weak and sickly, while all the other children were strong and hardy.

         She was technically an only child. Her brothers and sisters were from her parents’ respective previous marriages. Their spouses had died, and they had fallen in love and married. It may have been for the best that she was their only child together. There were three miscarriages before her, and she was no grand specimen of genetic design.

         The children had been playing ball in the water. She believed the game was called Penguin or some other name of a water creature, but she didn’t really care. It kept them out of the little stream with its sparkling waterfalls, smooth rocks, and cattails, and these were her favorite things to draw. She had just begun to sketch the cattails when something in the light changed. A cloud must have floated over the sun… it would go away in a moment. But it didn’t. A shiver ran up her spine as she looked into the sky and realized that there were no clouds. And something was wrong with the creek. It no longer looked so beautiful and wholesome and ideal to draw.

         She felt a sudden breeze across her cheek and heard a whistling sound and a surprised squeak. The ball barely whistled past her head and crashed into the stream before bouncing into a wooded hollow.

         “Oh-my-gosh-I’m-so-sorry!” her sister gasped in a single breath.

         “It’s okay. I’ll go get it.” She turned and took one step towards the hollow. Her heart caught in her throat with a sharp pang of dread. The shadows in the hollow seemed so dark and ominous. Somehow, they even seemed malicious, as if they wanted to reach out and drag her in. But she was silly for thinking this. It was just her eyes playing tricks on her; those were normal shadows under normal trees. She felt like her fear was silly, but it seemed like so much more. The birds had fallen silent, the squirrels had run away, and there were no dragonflies or bumblebees in sight.

         The children behind her began to whisper furtively, and she felt a clutching at their heart. Did they see it too? No, they were just wondering what was taking her so long. She was just being silly. It was just a wooded hollow. She had been there just yesterday.

         She began to stumble forward towards the ball hidden in the trees. The other kids laughed and splashed as if they had never stopped. Had they stopped? Were those whispers those of the others or were they something else? She glanced back and realized that the kids seemed to be paying no attention to her. They had just ignored the ball after ensuring her safety, hadn’t they? What were those whispers?

         She found herself propelled forward. It was as if she was seeing from her own eyes but could not control her own body. With each step, the yells of the children got more and more quiet. Surely she wasn’t that far away from them. Why couldn’t she hear them anymore? But she couldn’t look back.

         Why couldn’t those kids see the shadows? Why didn’t they feel that awful, cold wind that bit into her, cutting straight to her bones? Why couldn’t they smell that awful stench?

         What was that stench?

         With a start, she recognized it. She had only encountered that scent twice before. Once, she had been with her sisters and brothers on their way home and had spotted something amiss in the ditch by the path. Once, she had followed the men after they stopped some creatures from desecrating the graveyard. The source of both had been the same.

         It was the smell of a rotting corpse.

         Why couldn’t she stop? She wanted to run away badly. She tried her hardest and could not even slow her step. Why couldn’t she cry out? She tried, but her voice made no sound. Her throat felt dried-out and desiccated. The kids behind her had paid no notice of her. She had no help. Nobody would be there to save her now.

         Each breath she drew took more and more effort. The air rasped in her dry throat and through her tightened chest. Each step took all of her might, for she was not going to give up without a fight. She wanted to run into her house and hide under her father’s bed. Her father could help her. Where was he? It was almost time to go inside; it had to be. Surely he would be along soon. However, as she reached the hollow, her father’s powerful arms didn’t wrap around her to protect her. Her brothers didn’t come yelling with their guns, and her sisters didn’t come, worried as to her safety.

         She was so alone…

         As she stepped out of any possible view into the hollow, she managed to pause. What was that ringing in her ears? Could it be just in her head? No, it was the alarm bell! The town was being attacked! She had to go find the others and get to safety. Why couldn’t she move!?

         A cold, rough hand closed over her mouth and a strong, bony arm wrapped around her. The stench became overpowering as she felt herself pulled into unseen arms. The shadows in front of her moved, and she saw another figure clearly. She swooned, blessed unconsciousness falling over her at the sight of that man.

         The sight was horrible; it was impossible. The man was hideously desiccated and mauled. His skin was peeling away, his flesh was dried and hardened, and his teeth were petrified and filed into horribly carnivorous points. His eyes were rotted away, but no, his eye sockets weren’t quite empty. Coal-red sparks burned in their depths behind a haze of writhing maggots that spilled over his cheek, and worms ate through the side of his cheek, making his face into a mocking, wicked grin.

         But where was she now?

         She tried again to move and realized that she could, if only a little. A soft buzzing flowed through her body, as if her whole form was asleep and trying to wake up. She moved a little more, but stopped quickly. Had she touched something?

         She moved again experimentally. There was definitely something there, yet it was all around her. Her buzzing nerves would not let her get a good feel of what was around her. She tried to open her eyes but stopped when she felt resistance. She was buried. No, she was swimming. However, she was breathing. How could she be swimming, buried, and breathing? Something was wrong.

         Her nerves continued to awaken, breaking into a more painful buzzing. At the same time, her ears began to buzz as she regained her hearing. What was that awful sound? It was almost a wet sound, as if someone were slurping soup. And whatever it was that she was in seemed to encompass her. She realized that she was bent into a fetal position and tried to straighten herself out. The substance around her allowed her to bend into a crouch, though she had no concept of gravity. Was she dreaming? The buzzing in her limbs died down a tiny bit to allow her nerves to feel.

         She wished it never had.

         She was buried and drowning at once. She knew it now. It was wet and gushed under her touch, and it was all around her. The slurping sucking sound did not leave with the buzzing of her ears. The sound only got worse, and it seemed to have some kind of rhythm to it. The rhythm seemed to coincide strangely with a sudden spoken sentence. What did that man just say? Who was he, and what was he doing to her. She opened her mouth to scream but only felt that horrible, disgusting substance enter her mouth. She tried to spit it out and realized that it was already filling her throat and nose. It was what she was breathing. What was it? She had no point of reference. What was slimy, squirming, wriggling, gushy…?

         If any god was left, let it save her, for nothing else could... She passed into unconsciousness again to dreams of rotted corpses clutching at her body as she was buried and thrown out to sea. She knew what it was that was around her, or at least, she knew what it felt like. What horrible person would do this to a child? What did they hope to gain? And the sucking… what was that awful sucking? She felt it drawing something out of her. Maybe it was drawing something into her. Maybe it was both. But there was no denying what she felt.

         The flesh of corpse-worms.