Crimson and White [Closed]

Monolithic trunks pierced through the snow, stabbing upwards in lifeless silence. The sun was slowly falling, coloring the stark white with a myriad of shades and hues not at all befitting the deep grip of winter on this patch of wilderness so far isolated from the nearest civilization. A lone house stood in a clearing, in it a lone occupant, warm and protected by this singular opposition to unforgiving nature. In this evening quiet, there was tranquility.

The man was shut in, the heavy snowfall cutting him off utterly from outside contact. Any form of phone service did not extend this far, and the man did not know how long his isolation would last, whether it would be days or even weeks. He wasn’t overly concerned, like any sensible person with a homestead so isolated from civilization, his larders were well stocked. The man also had a small radio, his sole tether to the rest of the rest of the country and by extension, the world. In addition, a simple shotgun and a few boxes of shells, to deter wild animals, if necessary. Not that they, so untrusting of the artificial, would come this close to his home.

A few days passed, with little eventful happening inside or outside of the man’s homestead. The sun seemed bleak during the day, hardly offering its vital warmth to the land, and at night the stars were cold and distant, clinically beautiful but utterly alien. A brief thought crossed the mind of the man one night, observing these stars - how different they were, away from the hustle and bustle of civilization. Out this far into the wilderness, they didn’t sparkle and glimmer, like the gems they are oft compared to. Rather they stared, leered, accused, like ancient eyes glaring down from the heavens at this singular rebellion against the natural state of this ancient living world. The one exception, and he was glad for it, was the faithful path the planetary embodiment of his people’s hero, Ru-Yesham, the unifier, trod across the night sky. Though just as bright and stark white as the snow or the other stars, it seemed gentler, encouraging towards its sons and daughters to continue eking out their lives.

Unconsciously, the man took notice that the wind, like the stars, had changed. Though the winds always sounded strange and eerie in the forest, moaning and howling among the trees as it went where it pleased, unseen, the blizzard had turned its lonely dirge to a baleful howl at night, often bestial in intensity. Even when resting, the air itself felt more unwelcoming, heavy, ancient beyond human civilization. The man’s instinct was stirred by this, and though he could not say why, he found his gun closer at hand, his sleep lighter, his movements more careful.

Something in the woods awoke. Old, it was, older than the man in the homestead, older than the trees around it, older than even the branch of humanity that had claimed these cold, northern isles for their own. Some might claim it was as old as the ocean that isolated its remote home from the southern world, or at least the spirit of it. Perhaps the presence of the man, so foreign to this world, finally awoke it, or the cold of the snow staying longer than usual, or some inner urge unknown to anything but itself. Nevertheless, it stirred.

Ancient misshapen limbs cracked and stretched as the thing moved and came back to whatever semblance of life it had. While it was dormant, it had resembled a statue, a mockery of the human form in meditative pose, at once familiar in anatomy and frightening. It moved slowly, snow and other detritus gradually sloughing off its form and exposing more and more of its aberrant nature. Hands, perhaps more rightly claws, gripped into the frozen snow and beneath it, cold earth, and legs extended as it raised itself off the ground. Its size seemed impossible to determine, at once just larger than a human, yet also as large as any house or any of the titanic trees surrounding it, perhaps larger.

It did not stand upright, like a human, despite its vague resemblance. Rather it hunched, coiled and bent over, all four limbs planted onto the earth. A sinuous and thin body, to the verge of emaciation, suggested predatory hunger, and tortured, alien bones showed through cracked, flaking, ancient skin. In the already permanent twilight of the deep forest, it seemed to draw even deeper shadows around itself, obfuscating its body. Where its head should have been gleamed white bone, perhaps an animal skull, though it did not resemble any living creature, perhaps a deer, perhaps a wolf, perhaps human, perhaps something else entirely. And deep within the eye sockets of that strange skull shone sunken, hollow and alien eyes, lit by primal malice and endless hunger and gluttony.

And through all this, it uttered not a single sound. Even the surrounding forest, though muted and quiet from the cover of snow, seemed to hold bated breath, daring not to utter a sound while this entity woke from its slumber. No birdsong hung on the air, no crackling in the brush from small animals, not even the wind sang its ancient melody around this creature, seemingly in fear of the consequences.

Then it paused. Its body was as still as it was in slumber, but the thing’s head craned slowly towards the clearing, far away and obscured by the forest. It sensed an invader on its lands, its territory, its hunting ground. For a split second, a glimmer of intelligence shone in its maddened and hateful eyes, and it began stalking towards its prey.