A Demon Whispers

The early morning light was blinding as she stumbled out of the forest, confused and cold. Her dress was ripped and covered in mud. Isabella walked into the early morning sun, scared and off-kilter, but not knowing why. Early morning was her favorite time to forage, but for some reason, she could only think about getting home as quickly as possible and sitting In the warm safety of her hearth. While returning to the path she usually walked, she looked down and realized her basket was gone. The familiar weight of it missing in her arms. But she was holding her foraging knife, covered in blood. Taking in more of herself, she was almost sick when she saw that it wasn't mud covering her dress but blood. It covered her hands and most of her skirts. The metallic smell was overwhelming, and with each breath, she could feel the sticky reminder that it was still wet. Her ears were ringing, and it didn't seem to be lessening.

Overstimulated and shaking, she began walking towards her home, praying no one saw her. If she could just get home, clean herself, and have a moment of calm, she thought, she could try to remember what had happened and get help if needed.

Was this her blood on her? It might explain why she was so exhausted and drained. As she hurried home, she felt her arms and torso for any lesions or pain; there was nothing. If it wasn't her blood, who was it? And then a flash of a memory slammed into her mind, a bear. Twice the size of her, standing on its hind legs, roaring at her with blood-stained teeth. She could almost smell the rot on its hot breath and saw the claws as it slashed at her in the moonlight.  

Returning to herself, she recognized the path before her. How had she gotten here so fast, she was stopped on the path in front of her house. Steadying herself, she took a breath. She was home. Isabella could feel the safe pull and noticed the warm glow of the candle she'd left burning in the window. But something was making her uneasy. She shouldn't go inside; she had to tell someone something was wrong, but she couldn't remember what. Anytime the thread of remembrance was in her grasp, it floated off like smoke. Shaking off the feeling of residual fear from whatever happened to her in the woods, she stepped up to her gate and through her garden. 

The dawn mist covered her garden, and the comforting scent of her herbs that had bloomed overnight welcomed her home. A soft wave of calm fell over her, and she knew in her heart that home meant safety and healing. 

Isabella was a healer's assistant in Willow Springs; she grew most of the herbs and plants her master needed to help the city and all its ails. She was proud of her work, but she couldn't grow everything. That's why she went to the forest earlier that morning when the moon had set, and the world was quiet, to forage the necessary herbs her master needed for a poultice they were out of. 

Recalling the task she was meant to do, she remembered her missing basket. Quickly, her mind shifted from the fear of her memory loss to the herbs she had failed to retrieve. Walking into her small stone home, she instantly felt the inviting warmth from her hearth. Had she left a fire going before she left? How had it stayed so well-lit all morning? As she moved to change out of her ruined dress and bloodied working smock, she looked to the large, simple wooden table that took up most of her kitchen space.

There sat her foraging basket. She swore she wasn't carrying when she came out of the forest. Not only was it there, sitting as if it hadn't been through the same traumatic morning as she, but it was filled with the bright purple and blue flowers she was meant to be foraging for last night. 

As she started to speak out loud, she couldn't utter the question on the tip of her tongue. Instead, she felt that familiar wave of calm come over her again, like the one she felt when standing in front of her garden. A small, convincing voice that sounded like hers but not, rang through her mind.

You just put those on the table, don't you remember? You retrieved the flowers you needed this morning and set the basket down as you walked in. Remember?

She knew in her core she didn't, but she felt her head nodding along with the voice.

"Of course, how silly of me."

A new memory pushed to the front of her mind, a fuzzy, dreamlike memory of a peaceful early morning spent gathering the blooming flowers and falling asleep against a tree. In the memory, when she woke, a rabbit was lying near her. Her mind replayed the memory and showed her taking the rabbit and killing it for a stew that evening. The second her mind started to question all the blood on her and the knife, that serene voice entered her mind again. 

Don't you remember? You skinned it and left it in the forest; you do not need such little fur, and it would just be another thing to do this morning to try and sell it. You left it in the woods. How could you not remember?

"But, there's so much more blood than a rabbit could…" Isabella couldn't speak the rest of the sentence. She tried, but nothing came out. 

The voice, still serene but with a slight edge, spoke again.

You know you're not the most skillful hunter. Skinning and killing are not your strengths. You're a healer, remember? It's time to get to your chores as a healer. These silly questions are wasting time. 

She nodded along with the voice, still feeling unease as she changed into clean clothes and mindlessly placed her bloodied clothes into the fire.

She saw the rabbit hanging on the hook by the hearth as she watched them burn.

"I think I'll make a stew with that tonight," she said with a smile.

She heard the neighbor's rooster welcome in the day; the sound startled her as another memory from earlier slammed into her. This memory was sharper and clearer than the dreamy one of her picking the flowers. She saw herself stabbing the bear that had begun attacking her, but she didn't feel its claws. How had she been attacking a full-grown bear, and it not touch her? 

She could hear a deep-throated laugh in her memory, but it wasn't coming from her. As she killed the bear, slicing and striking anywhere she could with her short foraging knife, she watched it fall to the ground as if wanting to die. In the memory, she watched the face of the bear almost smile. 

As the life left its eyes, she felt something slam into her chest. Searing and hard. It pushed her to the ground; she could barely breathe. Her head felt like it was about to burst, and the blood running through her body felt like molten lead, hot and heavy. She knew she was about to lose consciousness, but in the back of her mind, she thought she remembered hearing a deep, raspy voice whisper. 

Finally.

A scream threatened to jump out of her throat, but it felt like something or someone was holding her lips together. Coming back into her body, she felt that she was bent over her table; her head was being held down, and an invisible hand was holding her from speaking or moving. Frantically breathing through her nose, the panic became worse. She knew she was in her home and alone, but she knew something was holding her mouth closed and her body down. Before she could try and use her fingers to rip off whatever kept her quiet, she heard that sickly sweet, serene voice again.

Just breathe, Isabella; nothing is wrong. You just had a bad dream while you slept in the woods. You know you shouldn't forage in the woods by yourself. Master has warned you several times, hasn't he? You can be so foolish. It's time to get to your duties and go into town.

The voice convincingly had her calming down, and she nodded. "Yes, I'm wasting time. I should get going."

There was no one to notice her eyes glaze over as she succumbed to that voice. The voice that soothed her, the voice she assumed was her own, helping her make sense of the confusing morning.

She quietly got up from the table, dressed in fresh clothes, hardly noticing the stench coming from the fire as the blood-soaked clothes burned, and gathered everything she needed for the day. As she walked out the door, she looked out over her garden and the road to town and smiled.

"What a lovely morning it's been."

Isabella walked into town, greeting the townspeople as she went to her master's apothecary. She was well-liked and beloved in the city. Her parents had died when she was young from a sickness that had taken 30 other people in her small village. She was left alone and orphaned at the age of 9. Her prim and formal master, actually her uncle, had taken her in and taught her the healing arts. 

She was quick and intelligent, and everyone knew she was on her way to being the best healer the region had ever seen. She was lovely and sweet, always the first to help a neighbor if needed. At 23, the only worry the town had for her was she focused too much on her studies and the healing arts and wouldn't marry properly. Those comments were quickly silenced when the new town deputy was appointed. They instantly became an item. Nothing was set yet, but everyone in the town had preemptively kept their finest clothes ready for a summer wedding.

As Isabella turned the corner of the cobblestone street, she walked right into Jacob, the town deputy, her betrothed.

"Oh, Isabella! I'm sorry, but what a treat to see you this morning and have you run into my arms," He said with a wicked grin.

Isabella looked up and paled; she could tell him. She could tell him everything. Looking at him in confusion, what was she supposed to tell him? Before the words came out, she heard a soft voice bruh across her mind.

Shh shh. No one would believe you if you told them. You'd be crazy. They'd lock you up. Just remember what you actually saw. The unclear memory of her gathering flowers and falling asleep in the woods flashed in her mind again.

See, everything else was just a dream. You don't need to tell him anything. 

“Jacob…I… There's…something…the forest…so much…blood." Each word was like pulling a horse through mud. She tried to grab him and drag him towards the forest, but the internal battle she was fighting only looked to an onlooker like she was coughing and holding him for support.

"Isabella, what's wrong? Are you ok? Blood? Let's get you inside and calm down." He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and walked her to the bench in the apothecary garden.

"Tell me what happened? You were in the forest? Were you attacked? Jesus, Izzy, I told you not to go into the forest alone. No matter what the old man needs."

Kneeling down in front of her, he took the basket out of her hands, only glancing at the flowers before he saw the bloodied foraging knife. Looking up at Isabella, her face was calm and serene, but her eyes were filling with tears, and she was looking all around as if searching for something.

"Talk to me, Izzy; what happened?" Grabbing her hands, he held them up to his mouth to warm her fingers, which had become icy.

Isabella could feel the bench beneath her and her lover's hands holding hers. She could feel his warmth and smell the rosemary by the bench. But she could only focus on the urgent need to tell him everything. Something wasn't letting her. Then, all of a sudden, she was pushed back into her mind. As if pushed into the last row of a theater. She could see what was happening before her and hear herself talking, but it was muffled. And it wasn't her saying these things.

"I'm fine. I just had a bit of a frantic morning after killing a rabbit. I tripped and fell and must have hit my head. I'm afraid I'm not fully myself this morning." She said, but it wasn't her. She could feel herself screaming for Jacob from the back seat she had been pushed to. Telling him it wasn't her, telling him not to listen. Yelling for him to go to the forest where they had met many times and find the bear. But instead, she could see Jacob relax and move to sit next to her.

Then, all of a sudden, as if someone had sat right next to her in her mind, Isabella heard that deep voice from the forest. 

If you love him, you will do as I say. You will go about your day and not talk to anyone about what happened in the woods. If you don't, I will make you kill this man, and I will have you watch. It will be slow, and it will be painful. Do you understand me?

Turning her head in her mind, she looked at where the voice was coming from and saw a black figure sitting next to her. It had the legs of a goat but the torso and head of a man. He was horned and covered in black fur. Its teeth were sharp and covered in decay and blood. Before she could scream, he covered her mouth with his, and she jolted to the present. Sitting on the pretty little garden bench at the apothecary, holding Jacob's hand. 

She could hear him talking, but she wasn't hearing. The sun was overly bright, and the smells from the garden made her feel sick. Looking to her left, she expected to see the creature, but nothing was there except her basket. Then she saw the bloodied knife. Feeling Jacob's hand in hers, she focused on that. She focused on what was real and turned to him.

"Jacob, I need to tell you something….this morning…I...can't...say...it...But I need to..." but she was stopped. She couldn't say anything else. She couldn't even open her mouth for air.

"What? What do you need to say? What happened this morning." He asked, that look of concern returning to his face.

What did I say, you stupid girl? The voice growled as if behind her.

Shaking the voice off, she tried once more. "I went to get those flowers for the poultice uncle needed this morning. And in the forest…." 

"Isabella, what are you doing?" Jacob was looking past her at something she was holding.

Isabella looked at her left hand and saw it moving towards Jacob's throat, the bloodied knife in hand. She couldn't stop it. 

Last warning, girl. The voice growled.

She blurted, "Nothing! Never mind! I'm Fine!". Still holding the knife up, she felt her control come back.

Holding back her panic, she tried to think of anything to explain her behavior so he wouldn't ask any questions. She needed to get away from him.

"I'm afraid I don't have time to wash this off; I'm worried it will rust. Would you mind washing it and bringing it over later tonight at dinner?" Isabella said, holding back tears.

Good girl, the voice rumbled in her mind. Now, go about your day. Don't try anything again, or anyone you do will die by your own hand. Do you understand? 

Mentally, she nodded in understanding and acceptance.

"Of course." Jacob grabbed the knife, looked at it, and then looked at her. "Are you sure everything is ok?"

"Yes. Just tired, is all; foraging all morning and not getting much sleep has taken its toll." Isabella said, trying to force a smile.

"Alright, well, I'll be over later tonight. Should I bring anything? What's for dinner." Jacob said, giving her a peck on the cheek.

Isabella stood, grabbed the basket, and made her way into the apothecary.

"Rabbit".