Creature Comfort

Distant lightning pulsed over the mountainside moors, echoing through the valley. Thunder rumbled, like a guttural chant from the earth itself. Hugo stirred from his sleep. As the flashing strikes ignited the room Hugo sat up startled, strange shadows appearing across the bare stone walls. He then realised he had been awoken from a dream and sighed.

His uncle's castle was an eerie, impressive place, seeming to always be wrapped in a blanket of mist, cutting a stark grey silhouette of ancient architecture into the moorlands. The patter of lashing rain eased his mind and within moments Hugo was smiling in satisfaction. That was, until he heard another sound. The groaning of the metal from the front gates opening, his uncle cursing into the night.

Hugo got up from his bed and went to the window. His uncle was returning with a small cart-like trolley, pushing his way through the gates, unhappy as the ceaseless winds from the storm tugged at the tarpaulin he had tied down over the unknown items he was pulling behind him. His bright yellow raincoat cut a strange figure in the light of the moon and swirling storm. Hugo glanced at his watch. 1:36 am.

'What's the mad old fool doing at this time?' he muttered to himself with a smile, feeling the tug of satisfying absurdity. Soon his uncle had closed the gates and was making his way out into his tool shed; a large single floored space that his uncle often referred to as 'The Headquarters'.

Hugo was not allowed in unaccompanied, or without knocking. He disappeared inside just as lightning whipped across the sky once more, raising his head up into the stars with his usual inspecting gaze that seemed to pierce through all things - lies, emotion, future plans and fun. Half the time at least. Hugo ducked down, avoiding the dreaded scowl with a chuckle, withdrawing himself to his bed. His father had always said this day would come. What the family called 'The Mooring' - a tradition honoured by them for generations, one month following a quarter century on the planet. Hugo had always thought it a half joke, until his birthday and the stern grasp of his uncle had met his arm, the gaze ever present, more intense then than he had ever seen before. Birthday music had seemed to slow, only his words carrying weight.

'See ya in a month' he had said. His dark grey beard seemed to quell any sense of emotion in his face, his long slicked back white hair giving a no nonsense appearance. Hugo laughed at the time. Now, on night seven of thirteen he sat listening to the thunderstorm, feeling like a kid again in his imagination of what could be going on in 'The Headquarters'.

'Where us Dryden's learn how to be more than ourselves' his dad had said to him when asked what exactly 'The Mooring' was. Hugo had laughed again. As he began to fall into sleep, Hugo laughed for a second longer, and then his inner thoughts were drowned out by the thunder that seemed to call his attention. Beyond his humour, the sacred and strange lurked, patient, ready, waiting.

'Can always trust a young foolish man to waste the day away in sleep!'

Uncle Gavin stood in Hugo's room with an elbow resting on his fireplace, chomping an apple.

'Jesus wept!' Hugo shouted, sitting bolt upright. His uncle's voice had torn him from troubled dreams, ones of the clouds dipping low, pulling him into a dark path on the moorlands.

'What time is it?' Hugo asked, rubbing his eyes. Gavin simply continued to gaze at him, his expression somewhere between a smile and a frown as he chewed his apple loudly.

''6:45 am Gavin... I thought it was midday the way you yelled' Hugo said with a chuckle, slumping back down into his bed.

'Don't you ever sleep?' Hugo followed up as he propped himself up on his elbows and nodded towards the window, giving his uncle a hint that he knew he was up to something.

'I sleep when my jobs are done, not when it is dark or I feel myself a soft petal on a breeze like you young folk!' Gavin said with a wink as he threw his apple clean out of Hugo's window. Hugo scoffed. Despite his strange intrusion into Hugo's room he seemed to be in a good mood, relatively speaking, that was.

'Get your beauty rest... breakfast in an hour, and then I'll tell you what you're doing here' he concluded as he closed Hugo's bedroom door. Hugo sat up with a frown. It was unlike his uncle to accommodate his moods. Still, he would not question the gift of a little more sleep, and so he set an alarm on his phone and buried his head back into the pillow.

'Tonight marks an occasion for you that has been in keeping with our family for around a hundred years... you, tonight, will meet your called destiny, your northern star, the focus that will push you forward and put wind in them sails in the big mystery we call... life' Gavin said as he finished the last of his cooked liver. Hugo gazed back at him with a frown that he did not realise resembled the one he had often seen upon his uncle's face.

'But first my boy… first you must know that you will see terror... the way your heart responds... this will let him know what governs your soul' Gavin continued as Hugo sat there baffled still.

'I'm sorry, uncle... who's he?' Hugo responded as he finally took another bite of his now damp cereal.

‘Ha! I will answer all the questions that are worth answering, but that is not one I could elaborate on with words… some things are not for language, boy. Some are for experiencing’ Gavin replied. Hugo felt his appetite leaving him. Gavin got a notepad out and began scribbling out some kind of list, slamming it in front of Hugo. A bright yellow, crumpled page of three items. His ‘task list’ as it was written crudely at the top.

Walk the moorland straight, take the parcel I give you.

Empty it at the mark. Empty. No exceptions.

Go into town. Do not return until sundown.

‘You leave in one hour… grab a hold of yourself when you see it and remember, all is well, this is for your own good!’ Gavin continued. Hugo simply looked back and forth between his uncle and the sheet of scrunched paper.

‘I am to take the straights? Doesn’t that take well over two hours into town?’ he asked. It was the most coherent question he could think of at the moment, one not related directly to the strangeness swirling around him.

‘It takes three and trust me, you will be grateful for a chance to clear your head after the channelling my boy’ uncle Gavin continued. Hugo now dropped his spoon with a clunk.

‘The channelling? … I’m not being funny uncle but what the f-’ Hugo had begun to say, but looked up to see his uncle leaving the room, his shadow cast high against the high walled, grey stone corridor outside the kitchen. There was a parcel on the table, brown paper, with a neat bow.

‘Take that with you, meet my mark… I’ll see you tonight!’ Gavin’s voice echoed down the corridor. He seemed enthusiastic which was strange. Hugo sighed, and then looked at his watch. It was nearly 8 am. He would take the moorland path into town at 9, the parcel with him and get away from the weirdness for a while at least, he thought.

Hugo trudged. The potholed stone path that cut through the valley was covered in a layer of water that seemed to appear right when you weren’t looking where you were walking. Mist cut low also, never ending, cold despite the rising morning sun that barely pierced the grey clouds above. Hugo held the parcel under one arm, shocked at its density.

‘What the hell has he put in this bloody thing’ Hugo said through a half breath as he continued to walk. His feet were wet after nearly an hour and a half of walking, and he had seen no sign of a ‘mark’ as his uncle had said. The silence on this path into town was deafening, it rang in his ears both peaceful and ominous before being broken abruptly. A raven had cawed overhead. Hugo dropped the parcel with a wet thump and it slid for a second, miraculously undamaged.

‘Shit’ he muttered, picking it up slowly and strangely relishing the slight drop in pace. As he picked it up, Hugo spied something on the level of his feet, a little ways up in the mist. The skull of a ram lay on the floor. Mist swept over it again and again, seemingly kicked up in the wind that swirled around the large pool of water by it. As Hugo stood the crumpled yellow piece of paper flew from his pocket, whistling towards the skull. Hugo took up a quick pace and followed the paper, soon upon the skull as water splashed on the path around him. When he arrived, he sighed with a laugh and dropped the parcel on the floor, finally. The skull had a small cutting of thin grey wood next to it with an inscription reading ‘MARK’.

‘Okay…’ Hugo said as he bent to a knee and began untying the brown string around the parcel. Slowly, he peeled back the three layers of brown wrapping, opened an inner cardboard box and revealed a chunk of something bloody, wet and cold. In pure disbelief, Hugo reached into the box and pulled from it the weighty liver of an unknown creature, dripping with blood. He dropped it back in immediately, shaking his hands with disgust as he surged up to his feet.

‘Ah you’ve lost it Gavin!’ he shouted into the stillness of the air. Hugo looked around for a second, noting the sudden drop in any form of wind, anything that indicated life, movement. Despite the silence that was already present, this stillness disturbed him.

A voice echoed, deep, eternal from within the pool of dark blue water. It spoke no words. Instead a garbled mess of utterings that seemed ageless, bound to the earth rose. There was great pain. Slowly, the terror his uncle had spoken of reared its ugly head. From the middle of the pool of water a figure rose, the lifeless face of many men, changing constantly, eyes drooping and reforming on a skull that seemed to have eroded from the base of the dark hole in the waters it had risen from. This was a fractured being without a face and many at once, standing twice as tall as any man Hugo had ever seen. It was draped in torn robes, groaning, bones cracking, crunching as it moved forwards. Hugo froze. The being held out its hand as fingers shifted into a stump, five fingers, ten and then none again constantly. Hugo fell forwards as nausea overcame him. He had begun to see stars, blacking out but had managed to catch himself partially as he fell, shoulder thumping into the mossy ground near the pool. The being stood over him as he groaned, next to the parcel. Hugo looked up. The being was gesturing to the box. Hugo scrambled to his feet, retrieved a blood soaked liver from it, nodding as his heart thumped in his chest.

‘Is this what you want?’ in a cry of terrified anger. Surprisingly the demonic looking beast recoiled, seemingly hurt by the insult. Hugo could not believe he was not dreaming, and so tossed the liver at the being as hard as he could. The being caught it within its bony and corrupted grasp. He watched as its face contorted around the meat, consuming it in a swirl of mouths that chewed and gnashed. Blood sprayed as Hugo watched in disgust. Then, the being shifted, form meeting its frame for the first time. The constantly shifting bones locked into place. The face stopped moving, becoming whole. Now, instead a gigantic demon stood a tall, thin man, pale but not ghostly white. His eyes were sunken and yet kind. He had no hair on his body that was draped in black, tattered robes as he stood in the pool, half submerged.

‘Dear me boy, are these the manners of the young nowadays?’ he said, his voice of old English, his tone seemingly floating on the wind. Hugo was silent once more, before uttering his first sentence to the being that came out in husk, a baffled rasp.

‘What the fuck is going on?’

The being regarded Hugo sternly, unmoving for a second before doubling over in a laughter that sounded like it hurt, as if the very ground had begun to chuckle beneath his feet.

‘Right you are sir, I always forget the monstrosity that is my dormant appearance! Allow me to explain. I am the demon of dreams… sounds scary I know, but recent times have somewhat… ‘demonised’ demons, if you’ll excuse the turn of phrase’ the pale man explained. Hugo stood, blood upon his hands looking from the box to the pale face of the man who had just eaten an entire liver in front of him.

‘Allow me to continue… your uncle, your father and his father before him… their ancestors made a pact with me. Demons were used in ancient times, requiring a simple sacrifice, for a simple reward… I am the summation of the dreams the men of these lands experience, the telling's of their life paths… three for most people, sometimes one, sometimes… none. All I require, is the sustenance to live in my slumber here, becoming the wind, becoming the trees of the moors… think of it like a vacation, well the only vacation a timeless demon can have, afforded to me by… you, the Dryden’s. Now.. well now, you give me my fee, I allow you to pick your fate, your life path and… I return to slumber’ the being said gesturing towards the box at Hugo’s feet. Hugo said nothing once more, picked up the remaining liver and waded two steps into the water. The enormously tall being took it with a smile, and began eating, turning away from Hugo as blood squelched. Within a few seconds, the liver was gone. The being shifted once more, spinning into a black swirl, this time elegant, a movement on the wind, a sweeping shadow. Now, upon the water, stood a handsome man in a neat black suit, black tie, smiling. He had closely cropped blonde hair, eyes a piercing blue that could not be human, and a friendly smile upon his face. He glided across the water, walking as if in a summer ball. Soon, he stood before Hugo with an outstretched hand. Hugo shook it. Ice cold.

‘Your path is of two, very strong possibilities, my young Hugo’ the man said, his voice crisp, clean and polite. Hugo nodded, swallowing in fear.

‘That’s great… erm, what do I do now?’ Hugo asked. The man wheezed with laughter once more.

‘Cease fear boy I mean you no harm. Now, you have but to choose. Will you choose love, or honour? The love you may find, will bring you to its purity… I have scarcely seen a bond stronger, and I’m over two thousand years old, you know. Honour… well that’s a funny one. While you will be in love in path one… you will sacrifice everything for it, not one soul, but two, partially. If you choose honour, you will be your own man, remembered for your deeds, an example after you die to those who wish to rise. But you will never know love. These are your choices’ the man said. Hugo looked up at the tall, strange man.

‘After I die… seems pointless to choose something for after death… hmm. I choose love, I think’ Hugo said with newfound confidence, unsure of himself but no longer petrified. The being laughed again.

‘Are you sure?’ he said. Hugo nodded. The being placed his hand on Hugo’s shoulder and nodded with a wide, inhuman but friendly grin.

‘Very good choice my friend. I’d look out for a raven’s cawing, riding the last light home if I were you’ he said. The demon turned, walked into the mist that now somehow encapsulated them both, and faded into the wind, smiling in absolute satisfaction.

Hugo walked through the city, looking at the tourist traps, having a couple of pints, spotting no ravens and decided he’d hit his head, walking through the moors as he’d passed out. Some kind of fever had kept him up last night and now he’d passed out on the moors, hitting his head, dreaming. Must have, right? The sun was beginning to set. Hugo took one last sip of his beer and began walking home, through the alley way, up the main street before stopping. A book shop on the left down the stairs, a black bird, stuffed in the window catching his eye. A book would be good at the castle. Hugo hopped down the first step towards it and was distracted as a woman exited the shop, dinging the bell over the doorway. He caught his ankle and rolled it, and then fell down an entire flight of stairs, rolling over, and over and then stopping. His vision blurred, Hugo felt someone grab his arms.

‘Oh Christ are you alright? I just saw that whole thing’

Hugo looked up into the eyes of a woman with extraordinarily dark black hair, eyes of emerald, flushed with exertion as she tried to pull him up. Hugo stood, the pain leaving his body.

‘I’m fine, just got distracted as you came out of the bookstore’

She smiled, and Hugo smiled back.