Page 5 of Tainted Serenity

Alive.

Maybe if I repeat those thoughts in my head, they will eventually become true. In spite of this, I can feel the bitter lies on my tongue, leaving a sour taste in my mouth. I push forward harder, blood rushing in my ears until a hardthuddingenvelops my eardrums. Trees create an imposing wall on either side of the path as I continue forward, the gravel crunching under my bare feet as each of the sharp edges presses into my feet along with the freezing ground. The adrenaline coursing through my veins makes it harder for me to notice the pain; my feet somehow becoming numb instead, along with my abdomen.

All I can care about is getting to Grey before it’s too late.

While I fight my way forward through the woods, the night creeps on, unleashing its full range of terrors as it does so. It feels as if the trees writhe unnaturally and as if unknown eyes fixate on me, judging as I run forward. Somewhere in the distance, crows caw, guttural sounds that tear through the forest with an unsettling force. It’s not just one crow but several, and their croaking cuts into my ears. The moon illuminates them, casting a silver-like glow over each turn the crows make as they descend closer to the ground.

An icy feeling washes over me, as if skeleton-like bony hands are reaching for me, ready to drag me underground. The cawing of crows means only one thing.

An omen of death.

Branches from the trees reaching out to me rip against my skin, tearing through the flesh until I’m sure blood coats me. Farther on, the path seems to come to an end, and I make one last effort to force my shaky legs forward. The lactic acid takes over, causing my legs to buckle as I stumble forward before regaining composure. My insides burn from the lack of oxygen when my lungs are incapable of dragging in proper breaths.

A hideous tree looms over me ahead, its trunk thicker than all the others and a much darker shade in contrast to the white blanket of snow. Sections of the bark have been torn off, as if a wolf has been here with its sharper claws, taking out its aggression. I force my aching legs to come to a halt, desperately trying to get the rush in my ear to subside so I can listen to my surroundings. It is as if my heart hopes to hear the whisper of his voice to reveal his presence.

With a hesitant step forward, the branches break underneath my sore feet, and the adrenaline starts wearing down, bringing an immense shock of agony through my stomach. The intrusion of pain makes it hard to focus on anything else, but I grasp onto the way the wind howls and whistles through the frozen trees.

I wish this could be a massive, twisted prank, but I know better than that. This is my reality, full of agony and aches, where pain and brutality weave into my very marrow.

An unyielding reality that leaves no room for hope, and hasn’t done since I was seven years old and witnessed my dad’s corpse.

I limp around, squinting my eyes in an attempt to discern shapes through the shadows. Having reached a standstill, I silently pray, pleading to hear Grey’s voice and see him come forward to tell me it’s all a joke. But he doesn’t come. My eyes stumble upon a pit in the ground, one that is unusually large and sticks out more than the surrounding earth does. My legs act on an impulse, taking me forward before my brain has time to perceive what is happening.

A maelstrom of emotions swirls within me, making my head an utter mess as I reach the pit, immediately diving into the soil in an attempt to frantically scoop it away.

Shallow breaths escape me at the same time as Arthur’s words reverberate through my mind, the image of the buried doll reflecting in my memory. As I keep digging, soil cutting into my nails, an unsettling sense of apprehension washes over me, much like a wave crashing upon the shore.

Something is wrong.

Everything in the forest falls into an abrupt silence, like the lull before a devastating storm that will ruin cities in its wake. The previous crows seem to disappear into the distance, the wind no longer rustles the leaves in the trees, and I feel as though my breath has ceased. I dig, though I barely notice the gritty texture of the earth underneath my finger as I work in a frenzy. A dreary heaviness settles over me at the realization that Grey is there, buried underground and slowly suffocating to death.

Then I feel it.

Something soft to the touch meets my sore hands under the soil, but the moon hides like a coward behind the trees, making me unable to see anything. My fingers itch with the need to rip away the skin from my already aching bare feet, but I refrain as I hurry to remove the rest of the texture covering something. I am certain it’s his body I will find—dead, precisely like the doll ought him to be. Panic builds inside my chest, pushing out the emotions forming tears in the corners of my ears. I refuse to let the tears fall, letting them cling to my eyelashes like lonely drops.

With a final steady grip, I get a hold of it before using my last bit of strength to pull it up. It’s much heavier than I anticipated, and I fall on my butt in the process, yanking the wound on my stomach. An agonized cry leaves my throat, the lonely drops falling down my cheeks at last.

The sight in front of me has my mouth falling open, discomfort filling every inch of me.

It’s a fucking doll.

Raven-red hair cascades down his face in a charmingly unruly manner, partly falling over his eyes. My hands tremble as I survey its face and eyes. They aren’t eyes at all; in fact, they are replaced by sewn-on buttons, giving me a shiver through my marrow.

The doll slips from my fingers and lands on the earth with a quaking thud, causing a tremble to ripple underneath me. But then I realize it doesn’t have anything to do with the doll; it has to do with footsteps coming closer, along with a chilling, sinister laughter that seems to emanate from somewhere deep in the forest.

“Oh well, my dear child.”

Arthur appears, his chest rumbling from laughter, while he stares at me with a darkened gaze. My mouth opens as I glance at the doll one last time, dumbfounded and not quite understanding what it is I’m looking at.

“What the fuck is this?” I scramble, trying to stand up, so I’m not at such a disadvantage with Arthur Grimhill in my vicinity.

He gives me a wide smile, showing his crooked, yellowed teeth with an amusement filling his appearance, which only fuels my agitation.

“What the fuck?”

My eyes follow his every move as he comes closer while holding his hands behind his back.

“I guess you will never know where Grey is or if he’s dead or alive.”

---