Sitting astride the red, glistening, mutilated remains that had once been my husband, she looked at me. Her white, clouded eyes, unblinking, locked onto mine. Her mouth drew wide into a cold grin. Her sickly pale face was red, wet with my Paul’s blood. It ran down from her mouth, forming droplets which fell, one by one, from her chin.
My lungs burned. Breathlessly, I scrambled backwards. I stumbled to my feet, turning, I barrelled into the trees. Fled from the undead abomination that had stalked us, running away from the scene of my brutalised husband. I didn’t even let myself begin to think about the children and what might have happened to them. I forced myself to cling onto the desperate hope that they were safe somewhere, that they had managed to find somewhere to hide.
The ground was uneven beneath my feet as I ran. My boots slipped on the wet rocks. Roots grabbed at my ankles. Branches whipped at my face, but still I forced myself onwards. Driven ever on by the horrific spectacle that I had just witnessed, pushed by a deep, primal instinct.
The trees around me became nothing more than a blur of brown and green. My breath was heavy and laboured as I plunged forwards.
She was chasing me, I could hear her. Not the sound of panting or heavy breathing that I would hear when playing chase with the twins, just the rhythmic splash of footsteps behind me. The occasional snap of a twig, a low hiss or an unsettling giggle that would turn my stomach.
Left and right I would duck and dodge, dipping under a low branch or jumping over a fallen stump. Through the trees, my lungs stinging, my injured leg burning a deep, searing pain but still I ran, desperate to lose my pursuer.
I dared not look back for I knew she was still there, the rustle of her woollen dress, the muffled scuff of leaves, whispered words from behind me, getting ever closer.
Suddenly something struck me from behind, a heavy thump into my back. It sent me lurching forwards, my arms flailing out to the side. My knees threatened to give way, to pitch me headlong into the rocky ground.
Claw like hands grabbed at my neck, dirty nails scraped at my skin. Legs wrapped around my waist, filthy, bare feet gripping me tightly. Her touch wasn’t just cold, it stung me with a deep frosty chill, a raw bitterness from beyond the grave. The repulsive stench assaulted my senses, a sickening scent, thick and putrid that filled my nostrils.
My voice shattered into a primal scream.
“You help me! You help me!” Her dry voice rattled into my ear.
“What are you, what have you done to my family?” My body trembled uncontrollably, the sound of my blood thumped in my ears as I shrieked those words.
“I am abandoned! I am forgotten!” The creature hissed as she clung tightly to my back. “The man, he wouldn’t help me. You, you will help me?” The creature’s voice hardened as it spoke the last sentence, her nails digging into my neck, piercing the skin. Her words were laced with threat.
The words of the old man from the inn rang loudly in my ears, ‘it’s the unholy resting place of the Children of the Sky’, ‘a Myling haunts the banks of that lake.’
“What do you want from me?” My voice quivered as I spoke to the Myling.
“Sleep!” Her rancid breath was cold on my cheek. “Sleep, rest in the holy ground.”
More of old Jakob’s words sprung into my mind, ‘The tormented spirit of a poor child, denied the rites of a proper Christian burial and cursed to wander for eternity. Existing as neither part of this world nor the next.’.
“A burial? You want to be buried?”
“Yes, burial. A burial in the holy ground.” Her grating voice softened momentarily as a giggle escaped her lips. The sweet sound of a young girl’s giggle, a chilling reminder of what this creature had once been. When she spoke again, her voice had returned to that guttural rasp. “Yes, and you will help me. Bury me!”
My mind raced, a manic jumble of thoughts and emotions. The rain pelted down on us, my thin fleece top clung to me. Lightning forked overhead, the loud crashes of thunder were deafening in my ears. I wanted nothing more than to throw this thing off my back, curl up under a tree and weep for my family. My insides felt torn, my body was cold and wet, yet I knew that I had to do as she demanded.
“What holy land, where is this holy land?”
“Church!” Fingernails dug deeper into me as it spat that word.
Of course, a church. The church back at Vettheim. My hands dove into my pockets, madly I fished around trying to find my GPS. My pockets were empty, I must have dropped it during the fall into the valley. Desperately, I looked around. Just trees, endless birch trees rising up the steep slopes of the valley. I was disorientated, I didn’t know where I was. How was I ever going to find my way back to Vettheim?
I started walking, my injured leg shrieking out in agony with every step. My torn trousers stuck to my skin, sticky and wet with my own blood. My heart thumped against my ribs but I pushed myself on. I didn’t know where I was going but at the same time, I did. I felt myself being pulled along by something unseen, compelled by something that tugged at me from deep within my subconscious. I didn’t need my GPS, the Myling was my compass now.
Trees, bushes and streams passed by in a barely noticeable blur. The cold, dead weight of the Myling on my back was a constant reminder of my ordeal. Her sharp, bony knees dug into my ribs as she clung on to me like a parasite. A soft whimper escaped my lips as I forced my body to press on through the driving storm that still lashed the forest.
Hours passed as I drove myself ahead, one step at a time. The gloom of night had begun to descend over the world. A frigid wind rose up, biting at my skin through my sodden, wet clothes which no longer offered me any protection from the elements. A dull throb had settled into my spine, my calves burned deeply. With every step, the Myling seemed to grow heavier, with every step I sank deeper into the thick mud. I shifted her, tried to hitch her up higher on my back but it never gave any relief.
The weight became too much to bear, I let out a gasp as my legs crumpled beneath me. Cold and wet, the dirt splashed up my arms, soaked through my trousers as I landed on hands and knees. The increasingly heavy mass of the Myling pushed downwards on me, causing me to begin sinking into the ground.
No, I had to continue. If there was any hope that I’d see my children again, I had to reach the church.
Through gritted teeth, I crawled forward, my knees grazed and bleeding from the sharp rocks that cut into them. My hands tingled numbly in the biting surface water. Tears stung at my eyes, sobs rising pitifully from my chest. Kirsten’s voice rose up as I toiled, a soft, haunting lullaby that sent a shiver through my soul.
Eventually, after dragging myself agonisingly through the dirt of the forest floor, the trees opened out and before me were the dark shapes of houses.
Vettheim!