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handkerchief-dyh · 1 month ago

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chapter 01: White Bodies And Red Eyes or all the spiders and sheep you can get

It hurts. Probably. Are you crying? Don’t cry. You’re not that weak, are you? Say it: Don’t. Cry.

It’s not that bad. It doesn’t even hurt that bad. You feel your arms, dipped in liquid pain. It’s a bit like that one time you pricked yourself on a needle. It broke in two, and the smaller part stayed deep in your finger until grandma got it out. No wait, it couldn’t have been your grandma. Maybe someone else’s grandma. Your grandmother is cold in a grave somewhere. Not here or anywhere near here, but somewhere. You are almost sure of it. Blood only appeared on your skin after the needle was pulled out. Yes, it’s a little like that. Except now you feel thousands of tiny needles sticking out of your body, waiting to be pulled out, only to see your horrified eyes reflect in red. No, no, no, no, no. The pain is more like spiders. Exactly, thousands of spiders cover every part of you- and the spiders have needles for legs. And all their little footprints leave red stains- oh, how messy. Wonder if soon you’ll be more hole than body and the spiders will have to move on…

God, it hurts so bad, you think, I can’t move. You wait. Waiting is always good. Waiting because, perhaps, eventually the pain will be gone and the universe will move on from your suffering. And it does. It gets bored easily and your pain is not worth it anyway. You don’t deserve it. Yet. Lucky you.

When you wake up, you don’t immediately recognize the air around you. This is not unusual, as the world is constantly changing and you never really wake up in the same place twice. You breathe slowly, you give your body time to adjust and feel all the little joys of existing in such a physical world as this. Alright, that’s enough, you mutter to yourself as you get on your knees and then your feet. Subconsciously, you run your hand through your hair and dust off your back. Bits of straw fall to the muddy ground. You look around. Sleeping in a hayloft apparently wasn’t the best idea. It’s too late to worry about consequences of your past self’s decisions now. You shake a bit. It doesn’t even occur to you, that an unaware passerby may mistake you for a wet stray dog. You look at your sleeves. They stick to your skin like a heavy quilt on a warm night, soaked in sweat and what you assume is rainwater or maybe the morning dew. You look up, as if you’re expecting the rain to still be hanging around over this foggy wet field, waiting for you to wake up. Oh, hey buddy. Sorry for that, didn’t realize someone might be sleeping here- out in the open, with no protection above or around them whatsoever, it’d say, and then magically dry your socks and fly back to Britain or whatever.

You walk down the gravel road towards what you assume are signs of civilization. You have not been on this road before; it doesn’t matter. You will most probably never walk here again, so why should you care to remember the boring and repetitive details? It’s cold and all you hear are your footsteps on the wet ground. You almost find comfort in the pattern. You don’t notice the large building before you until you’re nearly able to make out the silhouettes in the garden. It is an old house with thick white stone walls, that keep the inside cold and dark, yet strangely… safe. It’s more of a cottage honestly. The main building is surrounded by smaller wooden structures- perhaps a tool shed or a barn or something like that. The roof is rusty and a bit mossy. That’s quite nice.

You find yourself admiring the moldy ornament crawling through the dark wood, you almost touch it. Oh, how beautifully gross nature can be.

You are not alone. The thought flashes through your mind for a mere moment before you are consumed by crippling fear and a weight on your shoulders like a god asking why you´re here. You face your stalker. It's impolite to turn your back to a god. Next to the shabby iron gate stands a dog. It is a large black dog you'd see in a book about dark omens, if you'd ever read one. It's the kind of dog easily mistaken for a wolf, despite its fur being coal black and its soul being devoted to a sheep, a human. It stares at you, its eyes devoid of color, full of stars. It seems to… know. Whatever are you hiding, child? Hmm? The dog knows. They always do. The trance is quickly over. You blink. You'd almost forgotten what it feels like. The animal turns towards the house, the fur on the back of its neck ruffling up with every move. You look up and swallow. On the porch sits an old woman. She looks as if a dozen shawls and blankets grew a head and a pair of thin soft hands and found home in a white rocking chair. She doesn't seem to notice you, maybe she's asleep or busy remembering a past you would most certainly fail to imagine. The dog wags its tail and runs back to the barn. You watch it disappear between the various smells of wood and dirt. When you see it emerge, you inhale sharply. ‘It’s is not a dog anymore. It is a brown horse, waving its head around and enjoying the morning breeze. A small cloud of vapor forms around its mouth as it speaks. Wait. You shake your head. Speaks? Horses don’t speak, you tell yourself. You tell yourself a lot of things. Suppose there's not many people to appreciate your genius, huh?

“Oi! You deaf or sumthin?” says the horse. You look at the barn again. Right, of course. It's not the horse speaking, nor the dog horsing. In the doors stands a girl with a colorful poncho and a mean face. The big black monster gives you one last silent stare from behind her legs before merrily leaving your company for the back of the house.

“Ya look terrible,” continues the girl. She looks you up and down. You don´t look perfect, that's true. But frankly, she's one to talk. You take a defensive stance. Well maybe you should stop, you look pathetic. You open your mouth to say something instead, but your stomach is faster. It lets out a soft rumble. The girl seems to be thinking her next words over very carefully, before making a grimace, which, in hindsight, was most probably meant to be a non-threatening smile. Luckily, she quickly composes herself and says: “You're just in time. And lucky, too. Today's hot cocoa day.” Without sparing you a single glance, she turns back to the horse. You´re kind of flustered. As well as confused. Oh, but a hot drink sounds so delicious right now.

You, like most people, are used to being ignored, except in this situation, you start feeling sort of awkward. You haven't said a single word this whole time, you´re just standing on someone else´s property, being useless. You want to speak up, but the girl seems busy with her chores. You watch her footsteps in the mud. Before you know it, they disappear. She wipes her boots on the grass in front of the small steps leading to the house. There she goes. On the porch. Her hand on the door handle, her back to you. Now you´ll just stare at the door for a while, before coming back to your senses and leaving this place behind forever.

“Y´coming?” The words ring in your ears like music and your heart fills with cocoa flavored warmth. You rush towards the girl. When she opens the door, you can't help but look at the old lady, now almost a foot away from you. She's still rocking in that white chair, although the motion is almost unnoticeable.

You sit at a round table and wait for the girl to finish up in the kitchen. She sets two metal mugs in front of you and sits in one of the chairs. You look into your mug. The warm drink reflects your face - you don't notice. You look deep into the brown deliciousness, your tongue excited to indulge in a pleasure only mortals can truly appreciate. You look up at the girl. She's watching you. The cocoa immediately becomes more interesting again. “Thank you,” you mutter and quickly take a sip. Despite feeling like your teeth are going to melt, you hold the mug to your face a little while longer. You exhale. When it hits the table again, the metal makes a soft thud.

“Thank you.” you repeat. The drink is truly delicious.

“Glad ya like it,” answers the girl. “What do they call you?”

You think about it. Why? Don´t you remember your own name? Of course you do. You open your mouth, but it is a black hole. The cocoa soaked air fills your lungs and your words get lost on their way up. You see a spider between the floorboards under your feet and you think of the wet grass outside, and suddenly you´re cold. Your fingers wrap more tightly around the mug. You forgot what the question was. Was there ever a question to answer in the first place?

“Well I'm Sani. And I'm sorry, but I´m going to leave soon. I have things to do.” the girl says. She doesn't seem to want to interrupt you, but you are taking too long. She's exactly how you imagined she´d be. So far the only people you´ve seen here were her and the old lady outside - of course Sani´s a busy woman. Hell, she probably takes care of the whole house and the animals outside. You nod. You don't want to keep her from her work any longer. The wondrous feeling of warmth and overwhelming sweetness from just a minute ago is gone. You stand up and awkwardly follow Sani out of the house.

“You know,” you begin, “I thought maybe I could, I don´t know, help you out? I mean like thanks for- for the, um drink.”

Sani turns to face you. You turn red. You don't even know what she does, why would you offer to help?

“You don't need to help me with anything.” Ah, so there it is then. You nod. You should probably get going now.

You´re interrupted by a creaking sound from the other side of the porch. The old woman lifts her hands from underneath one of the blankets. Her thin wrinkly fingers sign something softly.

“Nana,” Sani shakes her head, signing back, “I can do it myself.”

Nana calls you closer. Her eyes look very kind and there's nothing you can say to her. You just stare.

“She says you are a nice kid”

“Thank you,” you whisper.

Sani sighs. “You ever worked at a farm? Or a ranch?” she asks, clearly hoping for an easy answer. You shake your head. This will be a long day.

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I failed :D

haha, i´m so incredibly sorry, but this is part one of episode 1. i expect to post part two soon.

once again. forgive me. BUT there´s some art coming too so look forward to that

anyway thanks and lemme know what you think

#Dyh #dirty yellow hearts #dyh chapter 1 #Writing #original work #original writing #dark content #dark fantasy #strangecore #Folklore #episode 1 #part 1 #to be continued

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