《Witches》 Chapter 1 Chapter 1: The pale stretched out as far as the eye could see, rolling over hills and reaching out towards the distant horizon. It was endless. It glowed, light reflected upon its snowy surface from the ever dark sky. A contradiction of sorts, as how was it possible for the dark to emit light? It did however. A faint blue glow that lit the world just enough to see what was what. Along its surface lay woodland in interspersed patches, inky black against the infinite white. Forests filled with tall pines, dense enough to keep the snow out but not the cold. The cold was ever present. A permanent, unwavering feature of this harsh land. Kyich was its name, a mass of scattered villages and sprawling cities all fighting tooth and nail to see the next day. It was a southern land, which meant harsh weather, unforgiving cold, and darkness. For there was no sun in Kyich or any of the southern lands, the light cast by it never reached the bottom of the world. So the land was dark. Dark and cold. Its people lived with this knowledge, it was a hard fact to miss. But the vast majority were completely unaware that there was anything more comfortable than what they had - what they knew. This did not mean the people were miserable however, rather, and perhaps strangely, the people were happy. They knew only this life, a life of hardship caused, chiefly, by the weather. Through their shared struggle, bonds of family and friendship are forged as strong and unbreakable as steel. For human connection is fundamentally joyful, a metaphysical force left untarnished by the cold. By the dark. Yet the flesh that holds these bonds can be cut. And that which bleeds will eventually rot. ¡ª There was a speck upon this white world, a speck moving neither fast nor slow. Just as quickly as it could manage whilst being thigh deep in a snow drift. The speck was making its way towards a dark stretch of trees. It had been walking for some time - days perhaps. The endless drudgery of its journey weighing down heavily on both mind, body and soul. The speck¡¯s name was Venivik and his legs hurt. Hurt like shit. Not that shit hurt, he mused. In fact shit, or rather shitting, might help some of the hurt he felt. It¡¯d been days since he¡¯d last shat and his stomach was beginning to ache something fierce. He reckoned he was constipated, although he wasn¡¯t stupid enough to test the theory. Getting your arse out on the Pale¡¯s plains was a good way to lose said arse and more besides. The thought made him shiver. He was cold too, even bundled head to toe in wool - thick stuff they¡¯d sheared from their goats. Venivik was thankful the gods had thought to make goats, and given them wool enough to keep them warm. Without it he¡¯d be long dead, frozen standing perhaps. He¡¯d heard stories of people freezing mid stride, left there like some gruesome milestone marking a failed journey. The tree line Venivik trudged towards was becoming clearer now. It was a blessing from almighty Dzz himself that a forest now stood in his path. A tree was solid, reliable, not made of frozen water and could be made into fire. All in all, it was everything he needed right now. Besides a shit, that was. Even just a sturdy trunk to lean against would be bliss, to take the pressure off his feet. Funny thing was, they didn¡¯t even ache any more; they''d moved past that a long time ago. A mixture of numbing cold and exhaustion had made them sting. He could just about imagine the throbbing relief he¡¯d feel as he took the weight off them. Then the agony of putting the weight back on. Taking a break, making a fire, was all that kept him going at this point. And fear. Fear of what had happened, what he was running from. But also fear of the cold. He couldn¡¯t sit down, not in the snow. There had been points to rest throughout the journey, groves to camp the night in. But he¡¯d not wanted to stop moving and had no desire to stay the night in them. Instead he¡¯d opted for rest only when he was aching for it. For example with some creative spirit a sapling or bush that had fought its way free from the deep snow could be turned into a place to sit. A rock or boulder was more reliable, you could lay down upon it if you really wanted. Just not for too long, the cold would seep right into you. You never wanted to get too comfortable out here, it¡¯d be the death of you if you did. Mind you it¡¯d be a peaceful death. People say the cold somehow warms you up in those final moments, which was something that sounded awful attractive right then. Luckily - or unluckily - depending on how you looked at it; Venivik wasn¡¯t feeling particularly warm or comfortable at that very moment. Venivik reached the nearest tree and leaned himself against it, raising his right leg off the ground. The expected euphoric relief shot from his foot all the way up his leg. He balanced there, temporarily frozen, savouring the moment of joy. Moments of joy had been few and far between in recent memory, so gods be damned he¡¯d savour what he could, while he could. He resettled the right leg and then rested the left in turn. He¡¯d seen snow birds do it before, some trick with the blood. A mixture of pain and pleasure coursed through his left leg, it felt like Dzz himself had come down from the heavens and kissed it. The right, however, felt like it had done a day''s extra travel. Venivik knew he¡¯d have to walk further, not too much, just till a clearing appeared to him. But with his body in its current state, it¡¯d be no easy task. Despite this, he moved. With both feet rooted in the deep snow, he hobbled onwards on leaden legs. The brief stop having taken a toll just as he knew it would. The trouble with rest was that you never wanted to get going again, to get back to the pain that a moment ago had seemed so commonplace but now seemed a torture the gods themselves would wince at. ¡ª Snap. The task of gathering firewood was second nature to Venivik. He knew what good kindling looked like, he¡¯d not even have to see the stuff, just by feel and sound alone could he pluck it from trees as he passed. Though his mind was working - a blessing in itself - he couldn¡¯t quite say the same for his hands. Which at this point were entirely numb, even gloved as they were. So Venivik skilfully, if not clumsily, set about his task. Everyone in his village, everyone he¡¯d ever known, had been able to make a fire in even the worst weather. This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. Even the rare rains that sometimes fell upon Kyich were no dampener on this talent. Wet wood, frozen wood, it all burned the same. For it was the words you said that mattered, not the material you had at hand. A prayer. A couple words whispered to the winds was the trick. Simple really but it had to be done, otherwise you¡¯d have no hope for keeping warm, no hope for a lasting fire. And without fire there was no way for the gods to watch over you whilst you slept. And in these woods Venivik wanted all the protection he could get. Yet despite the words he¡¯d say, he still looked for dry, good quality, kindling. Kindling always mattered, that initial spark to sing the words to, the tiniest of flames. It had to catch, something had to be given to the gods, some effort, some skill shown. It¡¯d be an affront to say the words to a dull spark - and there was never any good to come from embarrassing yourself in front of the gods. The ever present darkness grew only darker as Venivik delved into the forest''s bowels. The glow from the snowy plains had been starting to give him a headache. Yet the relief he felt from the surrounding darkness was fleeting - he felt uneasy, his mind unsettled by it. There were no forests this large near his village. Which meant he¡¯d never seen one like it, on account of him having never strayed more than a handful of miles from his home. He wished for that blue glow now, it felt reassuring to him given all the dark. But that would not be possible, for any light was eaten by the tall, dark trunks that filled this space. The great needled trees ensnared the light, holding it captive - refusing to share a single drop with Venivik. The further he walked the deeper the dark grew, till it was only possible to see a few strides ahead of him. In itself this wasn¡¯t strange, the forests at home got dark too. But something felt off with this darkness. These woods were alien. It was like the very trees themselves watched his every move. ¡ª Venivik knelt upon the ground. He¡¯d finally found a clearing blessedly free from snow. The frozen earth beneath his knee was deathly cold, but hard and firm. His studded walking boots gripped it well and he could expend less energy moving across this terrain. The trees around him were dense enough to keep the snow out and close enough to contain some small part of a fire¡¯s heat, whilst also distant enough to give him some space. A perfect balance. He just had to build the thing. Hauling a sack from his back, Venivik unsheathed a shovel. He used it first to clear the ground of needles and rocks. Then he began digging at the frozen ground. It was hard going but eventually the earth gave way, letting him get at the softer soil beneath. A small pit to shelter the fire from any wind, to contain the heat and allow it to alight quicker. He piled first some nearby fallen logs, they were nothing special but would burn regardless. Then he added the choice branches he¡¯d picked on his journey through the wood. They were long dead and reasonably dry, fit for purpose. Then he moved off to the side, and dug another, more important hole. At least it felt like it was at that very moment; his bowels were practically singing at this point. A burning, bubbling feeling had started up in his gut. It was now or never. Venivik squatted over the hole. It was cold, very cold but he persisted. The once covered skin prickled and protested as the cold air washed over it, stealing what heat it had retained. He definitely wasn¡¯t constipated, which was a relief. Although the frozen leaf he used to wipe up afterwards took some of that relief away. Getting up was a greater struggle than he¡¯d anticipated. With heavyset woollen trousers around his ankles he could just about move but was restricted. Venivik stumbled forwards, falling to his knees. Crack. The sound was loud, too loud. Like a snapping branch, only amplified threefold. Gazing slowly downwards, Venivik saw just that underneath his right knee a branch had indeed snapped. But the sound he¡¯d heard was too loud to be made by it alone. It was a small thing. Something else, at just that moment, had snapped a branch. A rustle of leaves broke through the silence. It was brief and almost impossible to hear, but he had heard it - it had come from somewhere behind him. Shit. He was frozen in place, out of sheer instinct. A survival instinct. For whatever had made that noise hadn¡¯t fled at his fall. Was it a deer, a goat or something else? No. A prey animal would have run at his fall, the thud he¡¯d made hitting the ground was loud enough to spook it. Whatever had made that noise hadn¡¯t moved off, he would have heard it without fail. Dread rooted him to the spot. Something out there was watching him. Its unseen eyes boring into him. A prey animal wouldn¡¯t act quickly, it¡¯d wait for him to make another move before deciding on its own. Venivik became painfully aware of the great woollen cap he wore. The benefits of wearing it were innumerable, it kept his ears warm, stopped the wind from making them ache. The only downside was he couldn¡¯t hear shit with it on, nor see a whole lot. Its oversized flaps blocked his peripherals, making him feel blind to the world around him. It was decided, he had to face it. Whatever it was. He didn¡¯t want to but he had to. The pain of sitting there, the unknown lurking behind him, watching him, was too much to bear. With as quick of a movement as he could manage, Venivik turned. He slipped as he did so, the ground was icy and with his trousers half way up his thighs he hadn¡¯t the best mobility. So tumbling onto all fours, Venivik gazed horror-stricken, in the vague direction he expected the noise to have come from. He¡¯d been correct in his guess. Movement, sudden but not unexpected, flashed before his eyes. A dark shape darted upwards and let out a piercing squawk. It was a bird. Truly terrifying, a horror beyond his wildest dreams. Standing, Venivik pulled the trousers the rest of the way up, his arse was freezing, so was his prick. It¡¯d take an age to warm them, so he made his way to the unlit fire and began to laugh. The situation seemed silly - ridiculous in fact. The feeling came at him, a wave of emotion that felt odd - his laughing strange to his ears, it sounded strangled. He¡¯d not used his voice in days, not spoken to a soul since he¡¯d left his family to go hunting. His family. The laughter tapered off into silence. Memories, forcibly repressed, surfaced in his mind. He didn¡¯t want to think them, he fought their very being in his head. But there was no fight left in him and now he¡¯d stopped moving he found they came despite his protest. ¡ª He¡¯d arrived back from the hunt, it¡¯d been decent. Four rabbits - plenty for his family. But something was wrong. Walking through the village he saw that doors had been caved in, brutally, as if by some great force. With some hesitancy, he¡¯d poked his head into the first home. It belonged to Velichy and his wife Mira, along with their two children. Inside, life had been going on as usual. Food bubbled away in cook pots, tables were laid for eating. Tools looked to have been in use only a moment ago, as if their owners had just stepped out for some air. Nothing looked out of place, as if there had been no reaction to their door being caved in. Then he saw smoke. It was coming from his own home. He¡¯d battled the fire, gotten inside but there had been no one. His home wasn¡¯t large, one main room and a sleeping area. It had been easy to search the place, even with the flames gaining in intensity. But yet again, there had been no one. He was sure of it. He¡¯d only been gone a handful of hours. He¡¯d waved goodbye to his father, everything had seemed so normal. Venivik felt suddenly sick at the memory of his father. He didn¡¯t know why. Didn¡¯t want to know why. But a part of him did, deep inside him. He could not access this memory, it was as if his mind kept it from him. Blocking him from thinking it - for his own sanity¡¯s sake. He¡¯d seen no sign of struggle. No blood. No bodies. Not even the animals, goats and chickens, remained. All was gone without a trace. However one thing stood out to him, more than anything else. There had been no footprints. It had snowed that morning, a fresh layer. His were the only prints left in it as he¡¯d left that morning and his were still the only ones left in it upon returning. Humans can cover their prints if they had to. Granted it took time to do so, but it was possible. However even then, he¡¯d be able to tell, there was always something to pick up on. But there had been no trace. Not even the animals had left any sign of their existence. No hoof prints, nothing. Everyone had disappeared. ¡ª It was cold in the camp, Venivik had yet to light a fire, caught up in his thoughts as he was. Recalling those memories didn¡¯t help him, rather adding to the chill he felt. He¡¯d not been able to think back to the village, his journey had taken up every moment since then. But now, as he sat in front of his unlit fire, he realised there were holes - gaps - in the memories. He tried to delve the gaps but as soon as he did his mind filled them with something easier to stomach. It had been bandits. It was the only thing that made sense. Bandits had raided the village, killed everyone and left. It would explain the damage to the buildings and the fire. Although he was yet to meet a man that could tear a three foot thick door from its hinges, leaving it a heap of splinters. And the disappearances - they were made up in his head. It must have been gruesome. He loved the people in that village so his mind shielded him from the reality of it. People didn¡¯t just vanish, it made no sense. So it had to be bandits. This surely meant that they were all dead but it was better than the alternative. That his whole village, everyone he had ever known, had disappeared without a trace. Without a single print left upon the fresh snow. Venivik¡¯s arse had begun to tingle painfully. He was slowly freezing to death and no amount of reminiscing would warm him. He had to light the fire. Now with his mind focused back on the reality of his situation, Venivik began to shiver. His shaking hands made the task all the harder. Venivik reached into an exterior chest pocket, producing a flint, a steel and a handful of wood shavings. With a whisper of words, Venivik blew on the shavings. They puffed out in front of his lips, forming a small cloud that hung in the air. Deftly Venivik struck the long rock with the flattened metal, aiming the resulting sparks at the cloud floating before him. The cloud burst into flames, dropping into the pile of twigs laid out in the ditch he¡¯d dug. Within no time there was a fire, merrily crackling away, holding back the darkness of the forest. Venivik knelt before the fire, placing his hands upon his knees. Then he spoke with croaking words: ¡®O Dzz, mighty burning light. Tether this humble flame to that of yours, ever burning, strong and bright. Receive now my gift unto you,¡¯ Venivik tossed a scrap of dried meat, fished from his pocket, into the fire. ¡®Glory to you, O¡¯ mighty one. Hear me now, if you¡¯d be so kind; keep my flame bright, so that it may withstand this night. Hail, mighty Dzz.¡¯ The offering hadn¡¯t been much, even so it was more than he could spare. But it had to be given, it was only right, it was the only way to make the bloody fire last the night. Besides, what use was meat to a dead man? The area around Venivik¡¯s camp began to grow in brightness, as if the fire¡¯s flames were double the height they actually were. A warmth spread through his body, taking the chill from his bones. Without his god, Venivik would have been dead days ago, he was the only thing keeping him going. Prayers to Dzz whilst on the long journey kept him warm, kept the Pale¡¯s plains from overwhelming him. It seemed to Venivik that Dzz was the only real thing he had left in his life. It would have to sustain him. The warmth in Venivik¡¯s body fermented his exhaustion, gestating it, till finally it overcame him. He leaned back against a tree, it was the final piece in the puzzle. Sleep had taken him before he knew it. Chapter 2 Chapter 2: Venivik stood in a familiar forest, an unstrung bow in one hand and a brace of rabbits in the other. Far off in the distance, through the tall pine trunks, he could see what looked to be smoke. He took a single step forward and was suddenly standing upon a snowy hill - around him the trees had thinned out, standing solemn and isolated from one another. A well trod gravel path snaked its way down the hill towards a settlement. He knew this path the same way he knew the village. In the distance a building was aflame. It was his home. His family would be inside. They would need his help. Thoughts of them trapped inside flooded his mind - a part of him panicked. Yet as quickly as the thoughts came, they immediately became less urgent, like they were being filtered through a dense cloth - as if it was someone else thinking them. Spit. The noise startled him, it had sounded close, right behind him in fact. He turned his head, searching for whatever had made it but saw nothing, only forest. Had he imagined it? It was unimportant - his family was in danger - he had to focus his mind on that. It was important to rescue them, he knew bad things would happen if he did not. But he could not look away from the dense, dark trunks. Something had caught his eye. There was movement deep in the forest. A shape slipped out from behind a tree, shrouded in darkness but for two eyes reflecting the dim glow of the sky above. From a distance it looked to be human - other than the eyes. There was something deeply wrong with the eyes. The figure was searching for something, smelling at the air and glancing around slowly as it did so. Then it stopped, becoming as motionless as the trunks surrounding it. With a sudden snap of its head, the two glowing eyes focused on Venivik, flashing in the gloom as they did so. Shit. What in the Almighty¡¯s name was it? The first thought that came to his mind was that one of the village folk was out for an early morning walk. But a part of him knew it wasn¡¯t a villager, that it wasn¡¯t even human - that a thing with eyes like that could even be thought to be human was simply abhorrent. It was something animalistic and unnatural. A predator. The thought had come from somewhere deep within. A part of his mind that dealt with dark things and all their numerous facets. Fear grasped Venivik, his hair began to rise, a crazed terror at the thought of that thing coming anywhere near him. He was helpless, frozen in terror. All he could do was stare back at it, unblinking. Then the thing shuddered, its limbs moving so quickly they looked to snap to different points on its body. It began to move forward, towards Venivik. Stumbling like a drunk, the figure slipped between dark trunks. Gaining in speed till it was moving at such a pace Venivik could hardly believe his own eyes. Its eyes, the thing¡¯s eyes, glinted in the dark as it moved. They were focused - unblinking - upon Venivik, with an intensity he could hardly bear. With limbs whirling in crazed movements, movements that couldn¡¯t possibly be contributing to its terrible pace, it came onwards. The sudden splintering of trees, caused by the creature''s dreadful amble, broke Venivik out of his trance-like state. He could finally move - and move he did. Turning, he ran. Ran as fast as he could, limited only by the heavy woollen coat he wore. But even that was no real constraint, the pure fear he felt - the gut-wrenching terror - had him thinking he could run straight through a stone wall and not slow an inch. But that thought led to another; the thought of what that thing had done to those trees back there. It wasn¡¯t possible - it couldn¡¯t be possible. It had turned them into a cloud of splinters and so many toppling trunks - nothing natural had such strength. He could hear it coming - louder now and clearly gaining on him. Venivik already knew it would catch him, it wasn¡¯t a question, rather a simple fact. It was just a matter of time. He had never seen anything move so fast. The creature let out a hoarse wail, the sound made Venivik feel sick. It was as if the thing''s throat was raw from hours of screaming. Bolting out of the tree line, his own heavy panting deafening him, Venivik ran like his life depended on it. His body screamed in protest, his lungs felt torn, his legs like lead weights. Chancing a glance backwards, Venivik saw that the creature had halved the distance between them in what felt like mere moments. Then a rock caught Venivik¡¯s foot bringing him down heavily on one knee. The momentum of the sprint carried him forward, sent him sprawling into a snow drift, both arms outstretched. Shit. He¡¯d gone shoulder deep in the drift, his body half buried in the thing. With a groan of effort he started heaving at his arms, trying to pull them free. But they wouldn¡¯t budge and his strength was beginning to wane. Finally - reluctantly- giving into his shattered body, Venivik slumped back into the drift. His cheek pressed against the snow, his breath coming in short, shallow, rapid bursts. If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. He was in a horribly compromising position; one leg in agony, the other outstretched at an awkward angle and both his arms stuck fast in snow, too tired to pull free, too panicked to coordinate his movements properly. The world had gone deathly silent. The loud crashing of trees being turned to sawdust had stopped. The only sound that remained was that of his own breathing. Venivik hoped that perhaps the creature, whatever it was, had stopped its pursuit and left him alone. He knew the thought was foolish however. It had no reason to stop chasing - it had caught him the moment it had locked eyes with him. Only one question remained. Where was it? Frozen with fear, Venivik led there staring out at the distant skyline. He only dared to breathe, trying with all his effort to steady his breaths so that he might better hear the creature approach him. But it wasn¡¯t working, he was panicking now. And in his panic, he held his breath. However the sound of breathing did not stop. At this Venivik¡¯s body jolted, a sense of overwhelming fear making him go rigid. It was behind him. It was right be-fucking-hind him. Almighty save him, he was going to die. He knew it was behind him, knew he could turn his head and look at it. Face it like a man. But fuck knows he didn¡¯t want to. What would looking at it achieve anyway? It was going to kill him either way, he was sure of it, but why was it taking so long? Venivik¡¯s mind finally gave in - waiting for it to make a move was worse than death itself. As quickly as he could manage in the cramped position he led in, Venivik turned his head, looking over his shoulder. A stark white face loomed out of the darkness a mere fingers width from his own. It¡¯s mouth was impossibly wide, a gaping hole rimmed with blackened lips and lined with eerily human teeth. The expression it sported however was infinitely worse than its grotesque features. Upon its face was painted a look of great distress - of horror perhaps. A terrifying prospect, as what in the Almighty¡¯s name could this thing be scared of? Perhaps of itself. Of what it was, of its very being. Pure and primal terror laced through Venivik¡¯s body. As if he was specifically designed to fear this thing, to fear everything about it. From its wretched eyes to its pallid skin - to the way it breathed, the way it moved. With a movement quicker than lightning, the creature grasped his shoulder. The hand was dark and feathered with nails that bit through his coat and deep into flesh. He had to escape. Had to get away. Veniviik writhed at its touch, tried to tear away and closed his eyes tight. Anything to get away from that visage, that expression. With a jolt Venivik was dumped on his arse half way down the hillside. It took a moment to right himself, his arms were free of the snow, and his shoulder burned hot from those grasping fingers. Scrambling to his feet he began scanning the hill where he¡¯d just been, eyes scrutinising the tree line till they fell on the creature. It was still there, pale face staring down at him, dark body nearly invisible beside the forest. It¡¯d be able to close that distance in moments. Probably before Venivik could turn tail and run. He blinked and the thing vanished. One moment it was there, the next it was gone. However the creature''s horrified expression remained, burnt into Venivik¡¯s mind. What in the Almighty¡¯s name had it been - and more importantly, where had it gone? Was it going to just appear out of thin air like that, no warning, and attack him? The thought of another encounter turned his bowels, making him feel sick. With effort Venivik turned his gaze from the tree line and looked around himself. He was on the road and closer again to the village, the smoke rising from his home thicker now than last he¡¯d seen. Hastily checking behind and to the side of himself, wary of the creature, Venivik took another step towards his home. He was standing in the village centre now, with houses looming squat around him. In front of his eyes burned his family home. The fire was still young but grey smoke bellowed from between the tightly thatched roof. The fire had to have taken hold fully to smoke so much. It was a strange sight. Snow never melted from the roofs in the village, even in the warmer months. But now his own roof was yellow in places where the fire had fought back the thick snow, leaving it exposed - naked to the elements. It would burn to nothing, unless the melt extinguished it. Spit. Venivik turned quickly, thoughts of melting snow gone from his head. What a foolish thing to think about when that creature was still around somewhere. But he saw nothing. The buildings once so friendly and familiar, transformed now into hiding spots - shelter for the creature. Venivik waited in tense anticipation for that dark figure to slip through a door or from behind a wall. Sudden shouts, shrill and piercing, filled Venivik¡¯s ears. He recognised them at once as his mothers. Another shout joined in, a panicked rumble. It was his fathers voice, loud but muffled by the building. Then came a pounding of fists upon wood, accompanying the shouts like a desperate, uneven beat. He¡¯d forgotten all about his family with his mind trained on the creature. His brain felt like week old porridge. Coming to his senses, Venivik started forwards at a sprint, barging shoulder first through the round door to his home. However to his surprise it was unbarred and opened as it normally would, just with the added force of his body being thrown through it. He stumbled with the momentum of the charge and fell, sliding across the stone floor till a thick carpet caught and slowed him. The door wasn¡¯t locked, so why hadn¡¯t his family escaped? Venivik got to his feet, standing in the doorway. The main room was engulfed in an orange glow but the flames he was so sure he¡¯d find inside were nowhere to be seen. His family were also absent from the main room. ¡®Father? Mother!¡¯, Venivik called out. Silence but for the sound of burning wood answered him. The bedroom door remained closed, Venivik started for it, ambling across the room and pushing hard against the door, he had to get to them. But to his horror the door didn¡¯t budge. Cold fear swept through his body. There was nothing to lock the door with on the other side, nothing to bar it with. ¡®Father! Mother!¡¯, Venivik yelled once again, as he rammed the door with his shoulder. Venivik¡¯s eyes began to sting from the smoke that was now filling the fireless room. His yelling continued, interspersed by coughing and his attempts to break down the door. Finally a plank gave way beneath Venivik¡¯s efforts. It had splintered inwards and he was able to get an arm through the door. Clumsily fishing around on the other side, Venivik felt a bar of wood with his gloved fingers. Straining he pushed it upwards, felt a jolt as it fell to the ground and the door began to swing open, his arm still stuck through it. Venivik stumbled with the door, legs pumping wildly in response to his fall, causing him only to fall quicker. Finally he came to a stop, arm still jammed through the broken plank. Glancing around wildly Venivik took in the hazy room, but could see no one. He¡¯d heard his family''s voices - he was so sure of it, how could they not be inside? Venivik slumped against the broken door, his body drained, a sense of hopelessness beginning to settle. He had heard them, he couldn¡¯t have imagined it. His head lolled backwards, thudding against the broken door. As it did so his sight fell upon the room''s ceiling. They were on the ceiling. His mother, father and sister were on the ceiling. They lay against the rafters but were not tied nor hung in any way he could see. They were simply laying there, as if upon the floor, the room having been flipped upside down. Their faces were pale, looming through the smoke that filled the room. His fathers throat was slit and drained of blood. He was white as a ghost. How could it be, he had been shouting just a moment ago, banging his fists, yelling for help. But there wasn¡¯t a drop of blood left in him. He¡¯d been drained like a butchered pig. Hot tears suddenly prickled at the corners of Venivik¡¯s eyes. He couldn¡¯t bring himself to look away. Instead he gazed into his fathers lifeless face, a face belonging to a man he¡¯d spoken to only a couple hours ago. A man he loved. Then his sister¡¯s eyes met his, lifeless and milky - eyes once bright, now blinded. There were tears in those unseeing eyes. They did not move, they looked like they belonged to a corpse. But that was impossible - she couldn¡¯t be dead, she had to be alive. ¡®Kaja?¡¯ Venivik muttered his sister''s name weakly. She gave no response. ¡®Kaja please!¡¯ The words came out as a desperate yell this time, his voice breaking as sobs racked his whole body. His mothers head moved suddenly, jerkily. Her eyes were clear but did not seek him out. They focused not on him, rather off into the main room. ¡®Mother!¡¯ Venivik yelled in surprise and horror. He¡¯d have to get her down. He¡¯d have to get them all down. There was a ladder in the shed outside, he just needed to get it. Needed to move. But his body lay there stuck, his limbs disobeying him, unable to do anything but stare at his family. Tears continued to fill his eyes, he needed to help them. Had to get them down. Then his mothers arm began to move in the same jerking motion as her head had done. It was as if she was battling some great unseen force as she performed the action. Arm outstretched, his mother began to uncurl a single finger from her tightly fisted hands. The finger pointed out towards the main room. Her face began to twist in horror - she was trying to speak but couldn¡¯t move the correct muscles in her face to do so. Then a desperate, gurgling, scream sounded from her lips. He¡¯d never heard its like before and never wanted to again. However the struggle his mother was going through to make the sound was far worse than the sound itself. Like she was giving all her strength to make it - a pure effort of will. It was a warning, but he¡¯d seen it too late, caught up in the sight of his family as he was. Venivik¡¯s head snapped towards the main room - to where his mother pointed. His whole gaze was filled with the face of the creature. It¡¯s two oversized orb-like eyes staring deep into his soul. Mouth agape in horror. Venivik did not scream, he did not move. His body was unable to do so. His mind had stopped working, lest he go insane.