When Rain and Snow Fall - WINNER OF APRIL DARK TOURNAMENT 2022

When Rain and Snow Fall

The rain had been pouring for a week straight, and everyone in town had been having the same nightmare every night.

It wasn't the thought of a flood that had them worried, nor the drowning of harvestable vegetables still trying to grow - oh no. It was far worse than that. You see behind the image of a perfect community, one that not only was filled with love but thriving with possibilities too, there was a darkness. A palpable cloud of hidden pain; a history so cruel that everyone pretended not to know, but it hummed with every breeze that whipped through the cobbled streets. It was the foundation that their homes had been built on; the solid ground that not only lifted them up but protected them from the damp below, from the rotting of their skin. Thanks to it they could pretend to be kind, happy people, without a care in the world.

But the rain brought a chance for that to wash away.

Lucy Brittle knew that all too well - how many times had she been told the stories as a child? The boogyman who could appear at any moment, the devil rising back up from the stone below their feet. Stories that had slowly lost their warning, their urgency to prepare. It wasn't that the threat had dissipated, but rather that the length of time that had passed since the proclamation made it seem unlikely to happen. Were spirits even real? And if so, would the one they feared truly come out to punish them all if the weather told it to? Could it truly rain and snow at the same time?

The name used to be whispered so infrequently that it was almost taboo, or so Lucy had been told. Over time it had lost its menacing aura, its ability to widen eyes and dry the mouth. Now, it was a story told around the fire, a name giggled about when it presented an opportunity to entertain.

But Lucy had heard it clearly tonight, and now she could do nothing but stare out the window, breath held. Waiting for a sign.

Akronis.

She didn't truly know if she ever believed the story - that the place she loved so much could have only existed with so much evil behind it. Could her ancestors truly have done something so wicked? So selfish?

But she knew the truth - she had seen it in her dreams.

Yes. It was real. She had watched night after night, behind the lids of her eyes, the screams dragging her into grief.

It was three hundred years ago - a time that seemed shrouded in darkness and struggle. Her town hadn't been doing well, with barren fields and cold winters, her people had been dying. No matter what they did it was as if the land had been cursed, the community bound to end up in the ground or strewn off to some place else. This wasn't a place of abundance, but one of death. With their arms weakening and their will shaking, every person that died was an omen of what was to come. Why was it that they had been condemned to this fate - to live in the shadows while others basked in the sun.

They blamed who was different.

They all knew the rumours; the man with eyes as dark as the abyss and a soul that satan himself had his claws dug into. It was only his wife that could keep the fires of sin at bay, only she could control the monster that threatened to rise.

But the people didn't mind much at the beginning. He and his wife lived in a small hut at the edge of the community. Atop the hill where the water streamed down from, they lived quietly. Solitary even, tending to the area so the people didn't have to, and their water never ran dry. They weren't seen often, only when the woman would come down to the market for herbs, or other ingredients she needed. At first she went unnoticed, mixing in with the other pale faces that only bought what they could afford, she'd smile graciously and leave without a fuss.