Body, Flesh, and Bones (Alcina Dimitrescu x Fem OC)

Prologue

Long ago we used to be worshiped. Before those claiming to be righteous and holy came; they burned our alters, raped our followers' minds, their bodies, and we were forgotten. Except for a few who continued to worship in secret but one by one they were found and burned in front of a false idol. Then there was one. Then there was you. 

"When I die, come here to this spot. Light a candle and repeat these words exactly as written. Bring something of mine, steal my ashes, and lay me here. Otherwise, I will never know peace. Remember dear, these are the ones you call to."

You were a little girl, only 6 or 7, when your grandmother told you this. It was the first day you went to church to take communion, and you rejected it; you turned it down so loudly that afterwards your father beat you until you accepted. You ran away to your grandmother's house just a couple blocks away and she tended to your black eye, your bruised wrists, and your fractured ribs. Then she took you out into the woods, deep where no one would see, no one would hear, and no one would find you. The elders, the priests, forbid going into the forest for they speak of evils beyond human imagination. Creatures that feast on those who wander, creatures of unholy nature. If they were to find you, you would be subjected to worst punishment than your father's beating. Yet here surrounded by trees, and whispers on the wind, you felt safe, not like in the church where you felt watched, scrutinized, and damned. For once, you are at peace. Your grandma knelt in front of a stone with unknown writing on it, but she knew the words and she recited them to you. She assured you; they are not the ones to fear. 

You began that mantra, whispering those names and prayer you've committed to memory. It was time to accept the things they told you to ignore. You saw them in the corner of your eyes, shadows that loomed and disappeared when you acknowledged its presence. If you stared too long in a mirror or the river, you could see them on the outskirts of your vision. You heard the whistles, clicks, and whispers when you shut the windows at night. You repeated the names whispered to you when alone until you felt the words glued to your tongue.

Even now, twenty years later, your grandmother's words echo in the back of your mind as you walk her urn down the aisle amongst the pews of people. Little do they know what she has filled your head with, even as you set her urn on the table next to the priest, you tell yourself your mantra.  Since that day you've hated this church, hated your parents for forcing you here, but you played the role assigned to you. That's what your grandmother told you; be the perfect daughter, and one day the time will come when your faith will be rewarded. As you sit beside your smirking father, weeping mother, and fidgeting siblings you do not shed a tear. You will not cry here. The funeral goes as planned, people speak of stories because like you, your grandmother was a master of disguise. No one knew about the two of you sneaking off into the woods, and no one ever would. 

When the funeral ended, you pick at your dinner as your family scarfs it down like they are starving. Your father finishes first and his silverware clanks onto his plate, grabbing the attention of the table. He looks right at you with a wide grin. You would rather face a pack of ravenous wolves than be alone in a room with him.

"Well, now that dear granny is gone there's no one left to protect you." You don't bother looking away, you know he's right. Your grandmother was the only one who kept you and your siblings safe from his wrath and the archaic views this village holds, "and that means, tomorrow, I will go out and find a husband for you. You're almost 30, you should have been married off years ago like your brother. Ania, you better pretty yourself up. I don't have high hopes for your sister."

"Harold, Ania just turned 18, surely we can-" your mother begins. 

"Shut it!" He slams his hand onto the table making your mother and your siblings flinch back. 

Ania, your sister doesn't look up from her plate, she knew this day was coming the moment grandmother got sick. Farkus, your brother, is only a few years younger than you and got married to his high school sweetheart. He says nothing either, only reaches under the table to hold his wife's hand. You excuse yourself from the table and head toward your room where you lock and secure the door. It takes a few hours, but you know the routine; Farkus returns to his home, Ania is in bed shortly after dinner, your mother too, and your dad drinks himself into a sleep within two hours. Then you do exactly what you promised all those years ago. You had swapped your grandmother's ashes with dirt and bone bits from various animals, and her real ashes are tucked away under your bed. You take the plain box and escape through your window; you have secretly marked each trail you've taken. You cannot take the same trail numerous times, otherwise someone would catch on. 

You arrive to the stone, the whispers just outside your hearing guide you through the pitch-black night. You strike a match and light a small candle before burying your grandmother's ashes adjacent to the stone and beginning your prayer. The wind picks up and howls in your ears, but you continue your prayer, you bow your head and rest your forehead onto the dirt. There, for the first time, you hear them. The footsteps crunching on the fallen leaves, they are heavy, they are many, but you do not look up. You repeat the prayer until the footsteps stop right beside you, and you hear the heavy heaving of breathing. As you open your eyes and sit up on your heels, the creature is still there only as a shadow in the corner of your eye. You stare forward at the stone, at the mound where you buried your grandmother as tears unleash down your cheeks. 

"It's up to me now."