Severed Souls(12)

Their bodies, arms, and legs—even their heads—were a chalky whitish color, as if they had rubbed ash all over themselves. He had never seen such people in all his life. He couldn’t imagine the purpose of rubbing white ash on themselves.

In the center, though, in the lead, were several darker figures. The contrast against the flood of pale figures behind them was striking and made them stand out all the more.

The dirty haze that Gerald had seen at first seemed to be something that enveloped the throng, as if it were being dragged along with them, or created by them. As they got closer it was an ominous-looking murk, an atmosphere of threat, oddly enough like they were inside their own dreary day and bringing it along with them.

Strange greenish luminescence crackled from time to time within that gloomy murk.

Gerald reconsidered his decision not to run. He wanted to run, or at least walk away and maybe go visit the woods for a spell until all the people had gone on their way, but since the darker figures at the center were headed right toward him, he instinctively knew that running would be the wrong thing to do.

Running from a predator provoked them to chase.

Only then, with that thought, did he realize that he knew these were predators.

He decided that his best bet was to keep his wits about him, appear friendly, and maybe offer the approaching strangers any information they might want. He was obviously no threat to them, so his best chance was to be helpful and let them be on their way.

He knew well enough that folks kept you around if you were useful. Despite his having no real friends, and no one in Insley particularly holding any favor with him, they tolerated him with a brief smile and a passing nod because he was useful. He had survived a long time simply by being useful with onerous tasks.

He became more alarmed, though, when he saw that the darker figures at the lead were going to come marching with all those following them right across his carefully tended garden of the dead.

He could see that one of the darker figures had what looked like a faint, glowing, bluish green light about him—as if he were half man, half spirit. Beside him was a figure that was darker yet. That one wore heavy, black robes. From what Gerald could see of his hands and face, the man’s flesh appeared dark with tattoos of some sort. Following behind him was another person all in red. He knew well enough what that had to be.

Gerald swallowed when he saw that the eyes of the man in the dark robes were fixed on him, and those eyes were red.

As he strode at a steady, easy pace, the spirit man walked with his arms down, his palms out. It appeared that he was the source of the dark haze, that it was being pulled along by the man’s hands. It was like he was dragging the grim murk along behind him the way a boat dragged a wake along with it.

Gerald couldn’t imagine what he was, other than one of the rumored beings from out of the darkest depths of the woods.

Against all common sense, Gerald finally decided to run. But as much as he intended it, his feet seemed rooted in place as both dark figures continued walking right toward him. He didn’t know if it was something they were doing to him, some kind of magic, or if he was simply frozen in fright. Either way, he was unable to move and had no choice but to stay right where he was as he watched them coming.

As the darker figures entered the far side of his carefully groomed graveyard, with the mass of whitewashed figures dutifully following behind, Gerald could see the ground near them begin to move. It didn’t appear to be the feet of the strangers causing the mud and clumps of grasses to shake and shiver. It appeared to be moving of its own accord.

It was then that he realized that it was not the ground in general that was moving. It was only the ground over the graves that was joggling, as if the dead beneath were agitated and pushing up at the soil from below.

All across the graveyard, as the dark haze dragged by the spirit man passed across the ground, the dirt over a number of the newer graves it touched began to heave and quake all the more.

Gerald looked up from staring at the incomprehensible sight and found himself looking right into the eyes of the two men who had by then stopped not far away from him. He didn’t know which man looked more terrifying.

One of the two appeared to be a cadaver dressed in garments covered with dark stains that looked to be dried blood. Gerald had seen enough bloodstained clothes on corpses, but he had never had one of those corpses appear to be alive.

More frightening even than that, the cadaverous man had a bluish glow to him. To Gerald, it looked like nothing so much as a spirit in the same place as the corpse. At least a spirit as had been described to him—he had never actually seen a spirit himself. Until now.

Together, body and spirit, there was no doubt that the man was somehow alive and aware of everything about him. He looked out at the world both with the glowing eyes of the spirit and the eyes of the corpse beneath it. As cadaverous as the man’s body looked, there was no doubt that he was looking, seeing, and comprehending.