The blood we spill

They looked up at his glorious creation. The human forest, he called it. The smell of death filled their lungs as the crows were feasting on the hundreds of corpses surrounding them. The smile on his face has always been repulsive to his daughter. Lady Hazel never really understood her father’s obsession with decomposing flesh on spikes. Although she hated every single second in this “forest”, she had to play the role of a supporting daughter, or she might have ended up as one of the “trees”. Her house’s reputation of vicious monsters begun a few years ago, during the battle against the Percival house that lasted for whole three months. A very large knight was smashing her brother’s skull with a hammer on one of the higher walls of the castle. While the bits and pieces of his brain were flying around, her uncle surprised him with a sneak attack. He kicked him and made him fall on top of one of the spikes underneath. Her father was fighting right where it happened. The blood of the fallen knight splashed his face. He observed the scene in awe as if he was hypnotized. He almost lost his head if not for the help of the noble, Lord Black. Later that night, once the battle was finished, little Lady Hazel saw through the window, her father dragging the corpses of the fallen soldiers behind the castle, allies and enemies alike. She was shocked to her core when she heard her mother scream with terror. She ran outside to see her crying on her knees with the corpse of her brother impaled in front of her surrounded by dozens of others. No funeral, no memorial, just a rotting corpse on a stick. Not long after that, her mother killed herself. This ugliness became the house’s sigil, as well as the house’s custom. Her father was the most feared Lord in the land and far beyond. Lady Hazel swore to make him pay one day, no matter the cost but the task was proving to be more difficult than expected. Only a handful of people dared to oppose his brutality only to end up in the forest themselves. So, she decided to play along. She brutalized and she impaled, she tortured, and she killed. She forgot what sleeping peacefully even felt like. If she even managed to shut her eyes, she only saw the things she’s done and the people she’s killed, and it was always the same dream. She’s sitting on a throne of bones and flesh, putrid, filled with maggots and her victims come and bow before her one after the other, over and over and over until she wakes up, sweating, with the putrid smell still in her nostrils. The worst part of her nightmare was the two hands of the pieces of the carcasses beneath her that had an unbreakable grip on her wrists so she couldn’t get up even if she tried to, forcing her to face her victims. Nevertheless, she didn’t lose patience. She knew, deep down, she’ll have the opportunity of a lifetime, she just didn’t know when, what or how, until one night, her dream changed. She was once again on her throne of flesh and bones and saw every one of them take a bow, in a row, and then again and again. Suddenly, one of them broke the cycle. He just stood there, like a statue. Surprised, she awaited. Unexpectedly, he spoke, which brought confusion on her. She looked at him with her big green eyes, in disbelief.

- Lady Hazel, stand up and come to me. – Said the mysterious dead man, with a raspy, tired voice.

The rotten hands released her wrists. She couldn’t believe what was happening. This nightmare she’d been having for the past three years always had the same realistic feeling, but this felt different. It felt too real. Stunned by this sudden change, she got up slowly and started walking towards him, feeling the squishing of the flesh under her boots. She stopped in front of him and stared him in the eyes. He spoke to her, and she felt his vile decaying breath on her face.

- The deeds you’re committing are horrible, but I know that you only do what you must to survive. I can put a stop to it, if you let me.

When she heard those words, her breath shortened.

- Tell me. – She said, desperately.

- There is a price to pay, my Lady.

- Look around. - She said, with tears in her eyes, looking at all the dead men, women and children surrounding them. – There is no bigger price than what has already been paid.

- Come find me in the forest of men. I’ll wait.

Her eyes opened, observing the shadows dancing in her room, enliven by the tiny flame in the fireplace. “That was new” she thought. She sat up on her bed to drink up from the cup of water on her wooden nightstand. Contemplating on what she just witnessed in her mind, she tried to go back to sleep but wouldn’t stop tossing and turning in her bed. She shut her eyes multiple times to try and forget about the dead man she spoke to a few minutes before but couldn’t. She tried to fight the urge to go into the dead men’s forest this late at night because she knew it was stupid. It was nothing else, but a dream fed with hopes, given by a thirst for vengeance against her murderous father. However, her gut couldn’t leave her alone. She had to go and see for herself that indeed, everyone in the forest was dead and she would have frozen for nothing, and she would have to feel stupid for believing in such bullshit as a living cadaver helping her stop her blood thirsty father. She stood up and quickly put her winter coat, her boots and took her sword, just in case. You never know who or what could be lurking in the dark. She started going down the stairs, as quietly as possible, mad at herself for giving all this effort, knowing it was for nothing. Once she was outside, she looked around to see if the court’s guards were around, but the bastards were once again in the brothel, drinking ale and fucking whores. Nothing better than a refreshing drink and a good pussy after a long day of being pushed around by a psychopathic maniac. The night was terribly cold. As she crossed the big yard, surrounded by the court’s walls and towers, illuminated by the faint torches on the walls, the snow was cracking under her boots. The graveyard forest was enclosed by a massive gate that made her fingers numb when she pushed it, revealing the glorious decaying forest. She has been in there, countless times and the only feeling she had was regret, disgust and despair. This time, what she was feeling, was fear. It embodied her. It became her. With twitching hands and a shortened breath, she forced her foot on the other side of the gate, welcomed by the hungry crows. Looking down, afraid to lift her head up, she kept walking across the forest between the hanging corpses. She had no clue of where she was going or who she was supposed to be looking for. All she knew was that she needed to keep walking. After a while, she has had enough. She lifted her head up, feeling less and less afraid. She started to wonder what the fuck she was doing and how could she have been so stupid. She turned around, ashamed by her foolishness wishing only to be in her warm bed, tucked under her cozy blanket. Suddenly, she heard a gasp behind her. The fear came back as she slowly turned around. The red eyes of the corpse above her sent a chill down her spine. It was staring at her, gasping for air, with holes in its face, dangling from the piece of wood like a puppet.

- Lady Hazel. – It said with its raspy voice, like in the dream. – You came. – Its putrid yellow smile was the most terrifying sight she has ever seen.

- Yes. – She mumbled, shakily.

- There is no need to fear me, my Lady. – It said, with a mocking tone. – It has been your father and yourself who had made me into what I am.

- I am so sorry! – She cried and fell on her knees. – Please, forgive me.

- It’s a little late for that, my Lady. – He replied, coldly. – Stopping him is the only way for cleansing your sins.

- How do I stop him? – She asked, with a trembling voice.

- You can’t. – It slowly stretched its arm and opened its palm, revealing a strange key. – What lies in the room hidden inside your walls, might.

Lady Hazel slowly reached for the key, that looked like it was made from flesh, in the palm of the dangling corpse. When she touched it, it disintegrated and she felt a sharp pain in her chest, numbness in her limbs and she struggled to take a breath. She fell on her back and convulsed like a worm. The pain became so intense, she had to let out a scream. In the exact same moment, a lightning stroke, followed by thunder, camouflaging her agony, followed by a heavy rain. The pressure on her chest intensified and she started to scratch it, as if she was trying to rip her it apart, desperate for a puff of air. When she thought it was her last moment, the pressure went away, and she took a heavy breath, followed by a huge cough. She looked up at the corpse again, searching for answers, but its eyes went back to normal, and the life within it was no more. She looked at her chest, and noticed a pattern of blood vessels, resembling the key she saw in the palm of the dead man’s hand. The smell became unbearable, intensified by the rain. She never got used to it. The smell of death is something no one really gets used to. She stood up, still shaken up by the pain and went back to the castle. While she was walking towards her bedroom, the pain came back, making her fall on her knees, panting. A voice, as real as her sounded in her head. “Go inside the bathroom and fill the tub. Then lie down inside.” She knew the voice in her head had something to do with the engraving she had on her chest, so without hesitation, determined to end her father’s reign, she quickly went to her servant’s room. She knocked as quietly as possible until she came out.

- Lady Hazel, what is the matter? – Asked the servant, concerned about her Lady’s well-being.

- No time to explain. – She answered, hastily. - Please help me fill the bath. No need to heat the water.

Her servant followed her and they filled the bath up with water that they took from the well behind the castle. Thankfully, this long and noisy procedure didn’t wake her father up who was passed out drunk in his room sleeping butt naked with the town’s best whores. Lady Hazel thanked her servant, asked her not to talk about this to anyone and sent her away. Dusk wasn’t far, so she quickly locked the door and got inside the bathtub. The freezing water made her entire body convulse. She took a few rapid breaths and plunged into the water. After a few minutes, she couldn’t hold her breath any longer so tried to get out but couldn’t. The panic took a hold of her until she suddenly got up, like the invisible force that was holding her instantly let her go. Once she calmed down and got her breathing back to normal, she noticed there was a change of decor. The walls were covered in necrotizing flesh. Worms were crawling all over the place. She looked down, and the horror possessed her completely when she saw the bathtub, she was laying in was filled with blood. The smell was too much, even for her. She got out of the tub and threw up, hoping it was all just a dream. When she turned to face the door, she saw a big arm coming out of it with a hand with big claws, like it was waiting to grab something. The voice in her head came back. “Give it the key”. This sentence didn’t make any sense to her, knowing the key wasn’t physical. She thought about it for a while until she decided to get closer. Once she took a step towards it, the hand was twitching. Suddenly, the voice in her head shouted with anger. “Give it what it wants, you stupid bitch!”. The shout destabilized her, and she lost her balance, making her fall right into the door’s arm. The claws dug into her chest, making her choke on her own blood, and took her heart out. She collapsed on the ground, lifeless. The arm squeezed it as the blood was soaking the floor. The red eyes of the dead man from Lady Hazel’s dream came back to life.

- It’s awake. – He said with his raspy, tired voice. As he said those words, the ground shook and a giant beast emerged from the ground beneath the castle, leaving it in ruins as it rose. It opened its giant mouth to let out a war cry. It was here to kill everything that was breathing. - Devourer of Gods and men, deliver us from evil, for we are forever stuck in the forest of men.