Never Trust A Red Pencil

CHAPTER ONE

1702, The Forest.

The heavy rain spilled down intensely on people’s rooftops, in the dark and brooding forest. 

Lucy Misol shivered as she made her way through it, the rain like cool metal pressed to her cheeks. The night sky seemed to swallow everything up, blurring the miniscule houses and it was almost impossible to see anything through it. But she needed to find her home – one of the many cobblestone houses with green metal for roofs. These houses were only for the poor. Only for the people who didn’t have enough money to go and live in the city. She didn’t mind; she didn’t want to be like the city dwellers: rude and filthy and treated people nastily. Although that left one question unanswered: Why did she dream about it every night?

Hunting that night had been tough. For one, she’d looked around her shoulder far too many times that day, just like she always did. The city people deemed the action illegal, and so she was cautious while hunting. Secondly the herd of deers had rushed towards her, their antlers like raised weapons, but she’d lifted up her spear and stabbed it into three of the deer, which explained why she now had two deer on her left shoulder and another hauled up on her right. 

Though she was fifteen, she was always the person to bring the food back home for dinner. It was her, since her sister, who was now nine, was too young, and her parents were making carpets, their job. She ventured into the woods every day, and each day was different — one day, she could hunt half a deer, a little catch, but others, she got lucky.

Today was one of those days. 

The more difficult task, however, was the return back home, the journey through the gloomy forest, where the tees gnarled and twisted into each other, making a large tangle of black nothingness. The moon just barely shone through the cracks of the bushes, and, if she squinted, she could make out the untidy outline of her home. A small grin cracked through her cheeks, a grin only used when the hunt was terrific, and everything just fell into place. Just like now. 

But as she sprinted towards it, even though she was as tired as a dying bird, she tripped over something, tripped over a bright  red object, a red bright as blood. She knew it was a stray twig.

What she didn’t know, however, was that the blood covering it was hers. 

She was falling down, so, so quickly, and she looked up to see one of the city people, dressed in their formal attire, but they were holding a knife. 

And by then, she knew who it was. The wool coat, the linen smallclothes, and she knew it was a guard. 

She vowed, in her mind, one last thing. 

I will always haunt you.

 Lucy closed her eyes as her soul left her body, white and pure, and was seeped into the twig like it was being fed to it. 

The present.

Rayn walked the streets of the city, the city where robbers stole, and murderers killed almost every few days. It was a terrible city, yes, but at least the houses were affordable, her mom had always told her. The people here were mean, and vile, and all the things Rayn was not. But, she still had to get to school so she focused on walking to the institution. The way to it was simple, really, and she just walked straight until she saw the colossal  square building face to face. The shadowy trees on the edge of the town loomed over everything, but they were especially close to the school, and it made Rayn too scared whenever she entered from the back entrance. The school air was utterly humid and gross, Rayn thought as she headed up the stairs to her dreaded class. She was just about to walk into the classroom when, from her peripheral vision, she caught the eye of the infamous school bully, Miranda. 

“Move,” the bully grunted, pushing Rayn away, and in turn, spilling the pencil case contents to the floor, into the hard, calloused walls. Rayn scowled and was about to say something in return, but Miranda had already gone inside the class. Rayn huffed and crouched down to pick up the things. 

She noticed a red pencil that definitely had not been there before, but didn’t dwell too much about it, and added it to her pencil case.

“Right,” Rayn’s teacher, Mrs Mei, called out to the class once Rayn had found her seat, “You’ll want to take notes for this class. Get your pens out, and begin writing.”

Mrs Mei pressed the play button on the video and Rayn put her new found pencil to use. Though when she did, the pencil started to do rather peculiar things. It began to write words against Rayn’s will, and a fog began to emerge, so she just stuffed it back into her pencil case and brought out a new one. Hopefully it would be better. And it was. But why was her hand stained red?

****

The school day went by pretty quick, Rayn had thought on the way back home, and that it was fine, if a little boring. But she was walking back home, her legs tight from sitting in a seat all day, so this was healthy for her, to loosen her muscles a bit. But she couldn’t help when her thoughts kept drifting back to the pencil, and why it had started writing by itself. She would try it when she reached home, she told herself, wrapping her coat further around her body. It was a chilly October afternoon, and the temperatures were dropping like hot stones. 

Strangely, the walk was quick, like the day. She did not know if it was normal or not. She rounded the corner and rushed into the house, with its stained walls and messy couches. However, it was home, and home to everyone was different. Without saying hello to her mother or baby brother, she hurried up the stairs, too excited to try the pencil out again. 

Rayn sat by her desk, buzzing with elation — or was it nervousness? Shaking her head, she flicked her notebook to a free page and, once again, put pen to the page. And again, the pencil wrote by itself. This time, she didn’t stop it. 

CHAPTER TWO

I am Lucy Misol. You really want to put this pencil down. Rayn didn’t. But she noticed something forming. Fine. But you’ll regret it. I was killed in 1702 by a monster. An absolute monster that tripped me up and trapped me in this stupid pencil — so what you’re reading is actually the ghost of me. I’ll give you some information, but there will be consequences. She saw above her now, that a girl, Lucy probably, overlooked the page in the notebook, but there was no shadow. Rayn didn’t think the consequences would be that bad, would they? No, no, she just kept reading. The forest on the edge of the city is haunted. Do not go there if you do not want to die. You think the red on the pencil is naturally like that, right? No. That is my blood. Do you want to drop it now? Rayn did want to drop it, but it was like her fingers were glued to the pencil. She wondered if it was the blood. If you still haven’t let it go yet, you really are brave. However, I will continue. This pencil used to be a twig. A twig that had my soul trapped inside it. I do not know how it evolved into a pencil but I will tell you this. One of these people living in this city is a monster. More specifically, the monster that killed me. That is all I have to say. Be very careful once you put down this pencil. The monster will come at you. 

Lucy began to fade away, slowly, and suddenly mist appeared by the girl, gathering together. The mist formed into a white, cloth-like material, but when she tried to touch it, it would not let her. 

This is the monster that killed me. 

The ghost attacked her. 

Blood was spilled, her eyes watered, and everything came in a rush. Rayn stood up, but it was like something was controlling her, so she ripped open the door, and fled out, out of her room, out of her house, and towards the hazy forest. 

No.

Yet she stumbled forward, her eyes glazing over, and she passed over into the forest. Swarms of animals herded towards her, and she screamed, cried, almost threw up as the realization dawned. She was about to die. 

And she took her last few breaths, tears falling down, as the monster scratched at her heart and stabbed into it, like her claws were knives. She quietly closed her eyes as the darkness shrouded the corners of her eyes, giving in. 

Rayn Misol died.

EPILOGUE

It had been one week since Rayn died. Her brother, nor anyone, knew anything about it. It was like they’d forgotten all about her, on someone’s will. And in some ways, it was like that. The monster now lived in the empty forests, feeding off of deer, and cattle and, really, anything she could find. It was how she got the strength to control these citizens anyway. Rayn’s brother and mother forgot all about their daughter and sibling, like she never existed. The monster made sure of that. The monster eventually became bored, and tired. She craved something to do other than kill animals. She didn’t want to die, like all her other ancestors. She’d outlived her mother, her father, her grandmother, and even her great-grandmother.  Three hundred and forty-two years was the record she had held. And she planned to live until five hundred. It was the potion she brewed that kept her alive all of these years. A mix of deer bone, rotten cattle flesh, and a bird’s broken wing all mixed together with a splash of water, was what she ate for breakfast each day. It was horrific, but she would do whatever it took. 

But now she breathed heavily as she sat by a tree stump, a day’s worth of hunting over. It was all the same to her, these days; she needed something new, something interesting. Which was why when she glanced at the girl entering the forest, her eyes gleamed with curiosity. Another new adventure. 

THE END