A prison called Life

Contains mentions of sexual abuse and physical violence

Rain pattered softly onto the gravel, the sky gradually growing darker. Trees littered the side of the path, leaves rustling along with the gentle brushes of wind. Everything seemed to stand still as time was stuck in a photograph. A crow called a warning to its kin; a danger was coming, it called, fly North or do not fly again. 

The Gumiho did not care for the birds nor their warnings, warnings that often left the tongue too late. A warning was only a preparation for Death. She did not care much for Death, nor was she afraid of Him. She got entangled in His affairs often, always grinning at him with fangs stained with red. The last time she saw Him was only a season ago- when he spoke to her for the first time. 

She had just finished ripping into the prey she had caught. Taking its heart into her hands, she feasted, blood spilling down her front. A dark figure had stepped out of the woods that surrounded her. She occasionally ran into Him- when her prey clung to life more stubbornly. 

“I am Death,” He had introduced himself, eyes hooded by a dark cloak. A long tail trailed behind him, fluffed up against the cold. The tall trees seemed to grow even closer together as a tension seeped into the air. 

She had eyed him momentarily before dropping what little flesh she had left in her hands. “I know,” she had said simply. 

The wolf, Death, had kneeled to the ground, dipping an elegant hand into the pool of blood that surrounded her. “Gumiho,” he said, his voice deep and quiet, “you gift me with souls, so in return I will gift you a secret.”

The Gumiho's coy smile reappeared. “I do not have much use for secrets but I will take what you give me.” 

Death stood before wiping his bloodied fingers on his cloak. “Most are scared of me.”

The Gumiho tilted her head, eyes shining brightly in the dim lighting. “I am not,” she said, when it became apparent He was not going to speak again. 

“No,” he murmured, “you are not.” The wolf stared at her, orbs glowing from inside his hood. “I do not know whether you are brave or stupid. I think of you as a fool, but you have been beside these trees since they were nothing but seeds in the soil.”

The Gumiho gave the trees an appraising look, pride glittering in her golden eyes. “They have grown well, as have I,” she said, a pleased hum in her voice. “One can be both brave and foolish. They are two sides of a coin after all.” 

Death let out a huff, a wolfish grin barely visible. “There has been a whisper in the wind that concerns you. Maybe, soon, you will not be brave or foolish- only afraid.”

She sucked the blood that caught on her fingers, mourning the time when Death did not speak to her. “I have also been afraid in my long life,” she spoke, her gaze drifting far away, “but I will always regret the act of running away.” She stared at the bloodied form below her. “I do not run anymore.” 

The wolf shrugged his bony shoulders. “Karma is about to leave his cage. He comes for you, no longer are you a hunter. In a few nights, you become the prey.” 

The Gumiho laughed, the sound echoing around the forest. “Then Karma will find his prey fights back.”

The wolf looked slightly surprised, much to her delight. “What are you afraid of?” he asked, his voice coated in curiosity. 

“Men.” She looked up into Death’s eyes, “there is nothing worse.”

Death shook his head, a small laugh of disbelief escaping him. “It seems I was right, only a fool would not be afraid of Karma’s wrath.”

The Gumiho had smiled, teeth on display, before turning to leave. “Then it appears I’m a fool,” she murmured before disappearing into the darkness of the forest, leaving Death with nothing but the weeping spirit of a man. 

Now, she looked down the gravelly path curiously, wondering where her wolf-ish companion was. But as the rain wet her hair and her clothes, Death’s face remained unseen. She tilted her head. “It seems Death is here for someone else today,” she hummed. 

Her ears twitched as she heard the sound of footsteps. A man was walking, blurred by the rain. He was tall and angular, a sword resting beside his thigh. She let out a soft sigh- her stomach was still full, a fulfilling warmth seated inside her. 

Before she had the chance to make her way home, her eyes caught on the other. His brow furrowed for a moment before he straightened- long strides taking him over to the Gumiho quickly. 

His eyes looked into hers for an answer- to what question she didn’t know. She felt a familiar thrum of hatred shoot through her body. When she was younger, she had known a boy who looked just like this. When she was younger, her fault was naivety. 

“Are you alright?” he asked, voice soft and alluring. At times like this, she knew what it felt like to have a gun pressed to your head. 

She looked up at him, blinking the rain out of her eyes. “Yes,” she responded, “I know this place well.” She had walked along these paths her whole life, and knew every blade of grass and dip of land. 

“I can walk you home,” he offered, “it’s dangerous to be alone at night.” The Gumiho stared at him, wondering what he would do if he realized many were afraid at night because of her. 

When it was apparent she was not going to respond, he tried again. “My name is Ji-ho. Can I have the honor of knowing yours?” 

“I have no name,” she bit out, “it left me long ago.” She had not spoken her name since her youth was stripped away. It reminded her of when she was younger. A name made her seem more personable, like she was human. She was neither young nor a person anymore, only a shadow. 

The man, Ji-ho, took this pleasantly. He simply nodded, an understanding look on his face. “Years ago I goaded a man in my hometown to fight me. He was good with a sword- and everyone knew that he could win any fight thrown at him. Wondering if he was greater than me felt like a challenge. I lost.” 

She nodded her head. “Man can never beat pride,” she murmured, “it is what breaks them.”

His head tilted slightly, a small smile on his lips. “When I was younger, pride was all I had. After I lost, I threw my sword down and vowed never to use it again. I felt unworthy of even being near a blade. Later, I realized that that was only foolishness. One loss does not make you unworthy. So I retook my blade, so it could help me win the next battle I fought.” 

“And did you win? The next battle?” 

Ji-ho nodded his head happily. “Yes. I would not have if I had not changed.’

The Gumiho stood, ready to retreat back into her forest. The sun had long left, and she had spoken to the man for longer than necessary. “I must make my way home,” she said hesitantly, “it is getting late.” 

“Before you leave, may I ask you something?” When the Gumiho did not make any move to leave he spoke again. “Do you understand why I speak of my past?”

She shook her head slowly. “I assume you wanted to have a conversation about your hardships.”

Ji-ho let out a laugh. “No, no,” he said, “I simply wanted to tell you that you are not unworthy of anything. Even if a battle you fought was lost.” 

The Gumiho’s mouth went dry. She remembered when a boy just like Ji-ho dragged her into her forest, stripped her of her youth, her name, her innocence. That did not feel like a battle lost. That had felt so much like murder, like a hand pulling her heart, eating it whole. Until she was nothing else but flesh. 

“We are the same,” the boy had whispered, licking blood from her throat. “When I drink your blood, I become you. You cannot escape me.” 

The Gumiho pulled herself from her memories, looking at Ji-ho calmly. “We are not the same. I wish you luck in your next battle, may your sword not falter.” She turned her back against him and vanished back into the comfort of her home. 

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The Gumiho brushed back her long, black hair before turning to the woman beside her. “Stop complaining,” she said huffing, “the forest is always quiet when you are gone.” 

The girl who went by the name Choon-hee let out a laugh that echoed throughout the clearing. “You never want to come to the village, though,” Choon-hee whined, “no one would even bat an eye if they saw you.” 

The Gumiho rolled her eyes playfully, hitting the girl lightly. “Maybe you do not care, but your village certainly would.” 

Choon-hee thought for a moment, looking at the Gumiho's ears. “Maybe we can hide them in a hat. Or behind a big, red bow.” 

“I feel that would be even more attention grabbing,” she replied, stretching her back as light shone into the clearing. “Besides, I am happy here and happy when you are here, too. I do not need to leave the forest. It is my home.” 

Choon-hee sighed before dropping the subject. “Fine. We’ll be having a festival tomorrow. I will bring you the best dishes I can get my hands on.” 

“Thank you, Choon-hee. It means a lot. Really. I think I would have gone mad by now if not for your visits.”

Choon-hee giggled, her face happy and pure. The Gumiho felt a twinge in her chest, a bittersweet feeling she did not understand. “So you admit you love me!” Choon-hee swooned, grabbing her heart dramatically. 

“I wouldn’t go that far,” the Gumiho muttered, watching in amusement as Choon-hee let out a betrayed gasp. 

“Fine! Maybe I won’t bring you food, I’ll eat it all by myself!” 

“Choon-hee, you wouldn’t.” When Choon-hee only turned her face away, the Gumiho shot to her feet in shock. “Say you were joking.” When the other girl still did not respond, the Gumiho pounced on her, tickling her sides until the forest rang with laughter. 

“Fine, fine, calm down! I’ll bring you some!” 

Pleased with this outcome, the Gumiho rolled off of Choon-hee to lie beside her. “Your family will begin to wonder where you are.”

Choon-hee huffed, closing her eyes. “They always complain about me running off anyway. They worry that I come out here to meet with a man.” 

The Gumiho giggled, turning on her side to look at the girl. “Well, they don’t have to worry about that,” she said, giggling when Choon-hee turned to glare at her.

“I could have any man in the village that I wanted to! There’s plenty to worry about.” 

She huffed. “Go home and come see me when you have food with you.” 

Choon-he stood, a small smile on her face. “You only want me for my food, how cruel. I’ll be back first thing tomorrow, don’t miss me too much.” 

The Gumiho laughed. “You know I will,” she called at Choon-hee’s retreating form, the sound of laughter gently coaxing her into slumber. 

When the Gumiho woke, something felt off. It was early morning, a slight chill in the wind. The Gumiho pricked her ears, straining to hear if anything was disturbed. Choon-hee should be here. 

The Gumhio stalked forward, her legs carrying her quickly towards the edge of the wood. As she reached the gravel path a smell struck her nose, fire. Fear flooded throughout her whole body, sweat forming against her palms. Her eyes dilated and she ran, faster than she had ever run before. 

She had not been in her true form since the day she lost her name, but today was not meant for hiding. Her legs led her down, closer to the village, the smell becoming stronger. She slowed, slinking along the walls of the buildings. Her paws hit the ground nimbly, and her head tilted at the sound of jeering.

Hoping it was just for the festival, the Gumiho stuck her head out from the alley she was hiding in. The sight before her made her freeze, as if someone was holding her down. Forcing her to watch. 

Choon-hee, her Choon-hee, was tied to a pyre. The people of her village surrounded her, holding up torches that shadowed their faces. Choon-hee’s eyes met her, widening slightly, before hardening. She shook her head. “Hide,” she mouthed. 

The Gumiho could not move if she wanted to, could not tear her eyes away from what was about to happen. I am here, Choon-hee. In your every moment, I am here. 

“Do you know what you have done, demon?” One of the men called angrily, “announce your crimes and maybe God can forgive you.”

Choon-hee’s gaze did not waver. “I am no demon, only a woman. When I see God, it will not be me pleading for mercy.” 

The man closest to Choon-hee, a man with a bulky body and bushy hair, dropped his torch. Fire caught on quickly, consuming the pyre greedily, rapidly making its way to Choon-hee. She heard Choon-hee’s scream- a wail that tore apart every inch of the Gumiho's body. The man who had dropped his torch shouted something to the others, leading them away from Choon-hee’s burning body. 

The Gumiho raced to the pyre as soon as her body could move,running over to her love. “Choon-hee,” she sobbed, “Choon-hee, what happened?”

A figure appeared beside her and she whipped around. Ji-ho was standing there, solemnly looking at the burnt corpse before him. “She was brave,” he said after a few moments of silence, “Death will escort her kindly.” 

The Gumiho’s body sagged. “Your name isn’t Ji-ho,” she forced out, “is it, Karma?”

Ji-ho stared at her, his gaze softening. “There was a time where I was called Ji-ho. That time was long ago.”

“Is that why you told me that story? Because you knew this would happen?” 

Karma shrugged, a sheepish smile playing upon his lips. “No, that was not why I spoke to you. Though I can’t say I didn’t know what would happen.” His stare turned serious. “Run home, Gumiho. See what has become of it.”

A new fear swept throughout the Gumiho’s body. Of course, Karma would not only come for one of the things she loved. He would come for it all. As if sensing her thoughts, Karma stopped. “Remember what I told you, Gumiho. Stand up tall.”

Before the Gumiho could say anything in return, the man beside her was gone. “I’m sorry, Choon-hee,” she whispered, hearing the crows caw out warnings. “I’m sorry I could not protect you, and I am sorry I cannot be the one to lead you into your next journey.”

She turned and ran. Ran as quick as her feet could carry her, her body aching as if she had been hit. Her blood ran cold, wondering what sight would meet her when she would return to her forests. 

Fire once again filled her senses, stronger this time. It choked her, rubbing her nose and throat raw. When she finally returned, a scream ripped out of her throat. Her body turned back into a woman’s, falling onto her knees. 

Her forest was on fire. The trees she had nursed, the flowers she had tended to. Everything was aflame. Sobs broke past her lips, uncontrollable wails escaping her. Her body shook, tears flooding her face. 

“Please,” she cried, “please don’t.”

The fire did not listen, their flames unbothered as they flickered on. She sat there until night, when the fires died down. Father down, she could see trees that were uninjured, a stark image against the burnt remains of the others. 

She stood on wobbling legs, too tired to cry any longer. “My name is Chun-ja,” she whispered harshly, the sound like nails on a chalkboard. 

When nothing happened, she swallowed, throwing her head up, a sneer on her lips. “My name,” her voice came out as a scream, “is Chun-ja.” The world did not end, and she was still breathing. 

A breathy laugh left her, and she turned to look in the direction of the village. She could feel the lingering stare of someone she could not see, and she smiled. “Karma comes for everyone,” she crooned down at the town. “Your karma is going to be me.”