Berry Picking

In comparison to the dragon they were fighting, the hero didn’t look all powerful and mighty. They had gangly brown hair and limbs that looked too long for them. They swung their sword towards the scaly beast, hitting its scales but ultimately doing no damage to the creature, their sword bouncing off the plates as if they were made of stone.

The dragon let out a war-cry of a screech and levitated into the air, beating its wings just right so it wouldn’t hit the roof of the cave. The roar echoed around the rocks and bounced back to the hero. They dropped their sword, falling to their knees as they covered their ears with their hands. Stalagmite fell from the roof of the cave onto the floor and shattered near the hero, shards flying onto them as they covered their ears from the noise and their face from the blast. A large piece of debris had lodged itself into the side of their torso. Blood seeped from the wound and dripped onto the ashen floor below them, slowly collecting into a puddle as the hero screamed in pain.

Dust was flying into the hero’s face as the dragon continued to beat its wings. Remnants of rocks, sailed in spirals around the dragon. The hero’s hair flew from their head as they lifted their face to look into the black pools that were the dragons eyes. They quickly lost contact as the hero lowered their head again, as quickly as it was lowered, their head rose from the floor, bringing their body with it. They positioned themself into a fighting stance, holding their hand to the wound on their torso.

Somewhere in the flurry of them standing up again, they had taken hold of their sword, pointing it once again to the dragon. The dragon had lowered itself to the floor once more and was now staring at the hero.

They ran towards the dragon and began swinging their sword once more.

My clothes were sticking to my body as my fight with the dragon continued. The linen shirt I was wearing was slowly becoming soaked with sweat as I swung my sword at the creature. My feet skittered on loose rocks as I dodged an onslaught of fire directed towards me. Thankfully my clothes were light, if I was wearing a suit of armour, I would’ve been too slow to avoid the beasts attacks. Or perhaps I would’ve been baked alive from the sheer heat of the cave.

After the fire stopped, I ran away from the boulder I had taken shelter behind and ran towards the dragon; but I had taken to long, my wound slowing me down, and was hit by the dragons tail and thrown to the wall of the cave. The pain was unbelievable. I briefly thought that my head was going to explode on the spot, surely the blunt forced had caused my brain to be damaged. It felt that way anyway. The shard in my side had broken and was no longer protruding from my skin but was now sinking deeper with every move I made. When I was thrown against the wall, I was sure I had heard a noise indicating a broken bone -probably a rib- so there was also that to deal with. My body was screaming in agony, but my mouth was tied shut. I would not admit defeat to the beast in front of me. I would die before that happened. The latter was seeming more and more likely.

The dragon released a small puff of steam through its nostrils as it stretched its body. If we were fighting in a bigger area or on the surface, I would’ve died as soon as I walked into a ten meter radius of the beast. But it was restricted in the cave. Its limbs were probably aching from the tight space and its wings were hanging uselessly behind its back. I couldn’t find it in myself to care, the creature was trying to kill me after all.

Its feet took a step back and knocked over a candle surrounding the runes on the floor. The dragon whipped its head around to acknowledge the disturbance but turned back towards me when it noticed the runes were not disturbed, it seemed to be smiling. Could dragons even smile?

I involuntarily thought back to the beginning of the day and the events that led me here.

Their mother woke them up as the cuckoo began its song. They groaned for a minute in their bed before rising and getting ready for their day. The two of them ate together as the village woke up. They made idle chatter about what their days will entail and what they would like to eat for dinner. They had the extravagant choice of meat and bread, or cheese and bread. They both agreed on meat and bread and went about their day. The hero’s mother took away their plates and began washing them. The hero bid their farewell and left the house.

They walked into the forest to gather berries. Their mother had warned them against it, there had been an unusual number of disappearances recently and their mother would not be able to handle it if their child went missing.

People had stopped going past the treeline when the disappearances had started. Children believed they had heard beast-like roars from the distance and soon enough, The Demon of Blought Village was created. The older occupants of the village had suddenly recalled a time in their youth when children were taken by a creature, or used as a sacrifice to the gods, or were turned into beasts with horns and snouts. It is funny how these stories never came up any earlier.

The hero found the situation funny; it was purely superstition. A story for village elders to tell children to keep them from the forest. People had always been going missing in the forest, the trees were easy to get lost in and there was no villages near that you could take shelter in for the night if you lost your way. If you get lost for a minute, you get lost forever. But the village took normal disappearances and created a monster with wings and hooves.

Some time passed as the hero walked to the berry bush, they admired their surroundings. They always had liked the woods. Finally they arrived at the bush and began picking berries. More time passed and the hero lost themself in a daydream. If you had asked them what it was about, they wouldn’t have been able to tell you. It was pure dissociation. Muscle memory told them to stop when they knew they had enough berries and they turned to walk back to the village, when a noise made them stop. It wasn’t unusual to hear a noise in the woods, but this was different. This wasn’t the living trees or animals. It was human and it sounded like… Singing?

My memory is hazy from then, I don’t quite remember how I got to the mouth of a cave in the side of a mountain, I don’t even remember what mountain it was. But all of a sudden, I was walking into a cave with nothing more than the clothes on my back and a bag of berries in my hand.

Someone was in the cave, that much was clear. There were torches lit on the walls that stretched on for as far as they could see. They thought for a second before their feet began moving. It almost seemed involuntarily, but they didn’t stop it. So they kept walking.

It was a couple of minutes of mindless walking before anything irregular happened. Their feet were becoming sore from the walk to the bush, and then the cave, and then down into the cave.

They took another step but their foot hit something solid and they went tumbling to the ground.

“Shit.” They cursed. The word echoed from the walls, bounding up and back down the cave. An endless stream of Shit Shit Shit rang throughout the tunnel.

They moved their hands to lift themselves off the floor when something crunched under their palm. Their head whipped down and saw a yellow bone under their hand. They yelped and fell backwards, scrambling on their hands until their back hit the opposite wall of the tunnel. Something dug into their back, they looked to see what it was and was confronted face-to-face with a human skull. Another scream released itself from their throat and they jumped into the air. The fire light from the nearest torch barely covered the skeleton, orange waves flickered on and off the side of the skull.

For a moment, the only sound was the flames dancing in their cages, lapping at the iron like a wave on a beach. It was at that moment that the hero noticed that the singing had stopped. Afraid to breathe, they stood still, staring at the skeleton across from them and trying not to make a sound. After what felt like an eternity, the singing began again. This time however, it sounded malicious. The cave seemed to grow darker with each word.

For some reason, unbeknownst to themselves, they began walking towards the sound. As if in a trance, they found themselves at the opening of a cavern. It didn’t take long for the hero to locate the origin of the noise.

A man was knelt in the back of the room. In front of him were chalk markings, they looked like a distorted piece of art, melding together to make an image but being unintelligible on their own. The hero took a step forward into the cave, towards the man. They didn’t say anything, nor did they make a sound, but the mans head lashed towards them. It was then they noticed the black pools of the mans eyes. Black liquid leaked from the corners of his eyes and dripped into his open mouth, pooling there until it overflowed onto the ground. His hair was a mess, and his clothes were muddy and stained with the black substance. It was then that they noticed his hands on the ground in front of the chalk, grasping at the loose rocks. His veins were sticking out from his arms and were the same shade of black as his eyes.

The hero’s face contorted into a scowl as they watched the liquid pulse through the man- the demons body.

“Finally,” It said. “I was wondering when you would finally get here.” It’s voice was wrong. It was as If the liquid was constructing his throat, like every word it was saying was hurting it. It was demonic. It was terrifying.

Somehow, the hero found their voice. “What are you?”

They took a step toward the creature and got hit with a smell so vile and toxic they doubled over. They began retching and heaving onto the rocks below them.

“You probably already know. What is it they call me now? The Demon of Blought Village?” It stood from its place on the floor and walked around the runes, towards the hero.

As the monster walked closer, they could see more details of its face. The demon looked old. Lines weathered its face, but it also looked young, as if it was a stuck in a limbo between the two ages. They noticed that it was wearing all black. That seems fitting, they briefly thought.

“That’s impossible. You’re not- you’re not real.” They were still on the floor, but they had lifted their head to look at the demon.

“Do I seem fake to you?” It asked. They could smell it, feel its presence reverberating around the cavern. This thing in front of them, whatever it was, was real.

“I don’t-“

“It doesn’t matter now. I’m hungry and you’re awfully convenient.” The beast stalked back to the markings on the floor and begun to chant. The chalk begun to glow as it illuminated its face as the transformation begun. They were frozen in place, watching it turn from demon to beast. Watching its limbs extend and its face grow out. Watching the grotesque transformation and not being able to takes their eyes off. Its face contorted into a snout and bulging eyes, horns grew on its head, hooves grew on its feet, wings grew on its back.

It was true. Everything everyone had said about the demon was true. Every description the village gave was there. Everything was real and they walked right into its lair.

Their feet were rooted to the spot as they watched the beast- the dragon hover in the air.

For a moment, they knew they were going to die. There was no way to escape a dragon, and certainly no way to kill one. But then they thought of their mother on the farm, alone. They thought of the life they wanted to live and the things they still wanted to do. And so they ran back to the tunnel.

The beast was expecting this, however, and shot fire into the only exit. They leapt away and landed a couple of feet away. When trying to get up, they heard a familiar crack and looked down and saw broken bones underneath their hands. Looking up slightly, they saw the owner of the bones skull. But also, they saw a sword. It had a golden hilt and a ruby gemstone in the pommel. They took hold of the sword and stood up to face the dragon.

The debris in my side was pushing deeper into my body the more I moved. As I was brought back from the memories of things that had happened to me only hours before. I was caught on one specific aspect that I had almost forgotten about. The chalk.

Maybe there was some way to disrupt it and redo the transformation. With a new goal in mind, I tried to reposition us so I could get to the runes. But the dragon wasn’t moving.

After too many futile attempts, I gave up on moving the beast. It shot fire at me again and I jumped to the side behind a pillar. I knew I had a couple of seconds before I would have to move again so I tried to think of a new plan. Maybe I would need to more time.

I jumped away from the pillar right before the dragons tail swept through the stone. Broken rock went flying across the room, some finding space to lodge itself into my skin.

My entire body was hurting and there was ash lining my throat and my feet were blistering and my hair was singing from the flames. And yet, through all of that, I saw a new opportunity for a plan. The dragon was standing right above the runes yes, but the gap between its legs looked large enough for me to slide through. If I could gain enough speed to slide on the rock floor to the chalk markings, I would be able to rub them out. The only obstacle in the way was the fire breathing dragon. Easy.

Flame bounced off the wall as the hero prepared themself to possibly die. They took a breath in and waited for the dragon to shoot its fire. Once it did, after hiding behind a boulder, they ran as fast as they could straight towards the dragon, abandoning their sword in favour for speed. The beast looked surprised at the sudden turn of strategy and hesitated its next attack. The hero sped up and finally dropped to the floor, the water from stalagmite helping in the speed of the slide. The hero slid underneath the dragon and jumped up to run the remaining steps to the chalk. As they got closer to the chalk the dragon let out a howl as it tried to turn too fast and hit one of its wings on the wall of the cavern. They reached the chalk and pushed their hands into it, smudging the markings and ruining the runes.

For a horrifying moment nothing happened, and they thought they were going to die a horrible death. But then the creature let out a screech. It was unlike the ones earlier; this one was pained and weak. The dragon started pulsating as its blood ran too fast and its bones started breaking and bending. It was not long until the dragon was the demon again, black liquid seeping through its skin and eyes.

They stared down at the pathetic creature in front of them. They had killed all the people that had lost themselves in the woods, or perhaps they were lured in a trance like they were. It didn’t matter anymore. It was over. No one else would be lured into the woods by the Demon of Blought Village.

The creature in front of them was satanic. It had shrivelled up to reveal its true age, hair greying until almost translucent, face hollowing until it looked as dead as the skeletons littering the cavern.

Black liquid was seeping onto the floor as it struggled to breathe. It didn’t take long until the thing stopped moving entirely, body completely still, and the black liquid overtook it, spilling out from all of its pores until it was no more that a puddle on the ground.

They looked at the remnants of the demon as they sat down on the floor of the cavern, finally breathing, and attempting to tend to their wounds. After some time passed, they finally looked towards the entrance of the cave and saw their bag on the ground, probably still filled with berries.

They stood up, grabbed the bag, and began their walk home.