I Remember, Once...

V.

While everyone, (or more accurately, everything?), was focused on those, strange goings-on, I put a great effort into bringing my hands together. At first, there was very little give. With a little more effort, I heard a faint cracking. It sounded, not much louder than the crackling of an open fire. Mustering as much strength as I could, I gave it one last effort to escape what  I was sure would be an ill-fated demise.  The branches finally gave, and snapped, sending me to the floor. The crone, still mid-chant, snapped around and glared at me, with undeniable vehemence. If ever there was a moment for the phrase “if looks could kill”, that was it. Its words trailed off, and the crone started to pant heavily. The sounds, that emanated from my colleagues, and the shadow amalgams, were nothing short of horrific. Like the sounds of a maternity ward, full of crying babies, combined with the sounds of sheep or goats being slaughtered. Piercing to the soul and chilling to the core. I cupped my hands over my ears, for a moment, in a bid to close the awful sound out. There was no use. It was as though I didn’t only hear that dread sound, but I could feel it as well. My head started to spin as the sound continued. As the room started to swim, with my vision blurring, I opened my mouth, to scream a silent scream. My hearing felt like my head was being held underwater, but accompanied by a constant, incessant, high-pitched ringing. My head swam, as I staggered about the room, searching for some way out. Despite the obvious risk of injury, and the possibility that I might end up in a worse state than the one I found myself in, I could see only one way to escape from this hellish place. I grabbed a chair and ran. Holding the chair up in front of me, like a makeshift battering ram, I bolted for the window. The window gave way, easily, and I went crashing out, into the night air.

I’m not sure what was more painful. The places, on my body, where the glass dug in, or the biting cold, as it struck my flesh. Whichever it was, it brought my body to an acute awareness of my surroundings. I dashed to the front of the accursed place. Scratching and catching myself, multiple times, on the twigs and branches of the surrounding trees. Each one felt like countless bony fingers, from many, bony hands, trying to impede my progress. I would not give them that opportunity! I paused briefly, outside the front of the building, to regain my bearings, then I dashed off into the forest, once more. The moonlight was failing, and I could not make out any signs of a track. The shadows were getting deeper and darker, and I feared having to plunge myself into that darkness. What if there were more of those creatures of living darkness, out there in the wilderness? As I ran, I did not know, nor cared, if I was being pursued. All I was concerned with, was getting back to the camp. My lungs were burning, and my feet were swollen and painful, by the time I found what could be loosely described as a road.

I must have come bursting out of the forest, looking like some kind of wild man, when I found that trail. Nothing more than a well-trodden, dirt-track, really, but it seemed to be following a downward path that followed the valley. If some kind of luck was with me, (I didn’t have much faith in that), this track would take be down to the river, and I would be able to find the camp. The farther I walked, the more and more my feet hurt. Although the track was well-worn and smoothed over by years of use, I had reached the point where each footstep felt like walking down a roughly graveled path. My pace was now more of a hobble, than a run. The feeling was being drained from my body, by the cold, to the point that myfingers were burning. Even thrusting them into my armpits, failed to stop the burning sensation. Staggering on slowly, each step was becoming like walking on nails. Looking back on the way I’d come, I could see the dark prints, of my bloodied trail. There was no telling how far I had walked, or how long it had taken me. Tearing off strips from the bottom of the robes, for makeshift bandages, I wrapped my feet. At last, some way up ahead, I could see the pale orange glow of a campfire. The tears that came to my eyes froze, to my cheeks. Blinking rapidly, to clear my eyes, I cried out, as I tried to run towards the camp.