The Bone Walkers

Bone Walkers

In some long forgotten, isolated parts of the world, where the living fear to tread and Nature has taken over once more, the bones of the murdered still walk. They have no remorse, no sorrow; they only feel hatred and the crazed need for vengeance, killing every living soul that it crosses, be it man or animal. Some have weapons; axes that they use to cleave a man's skull in two with, swords that they plunge through the heart with. Most think it worse when they don't have weapons, because then, they merely tear the flesh off of their victims' bones.

These are called Bone Walkers. No one has ever survived an encounter, except for one man. This is his story.

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This man's tale was a long time ago. Long before the Europeans came to the New World, when the Native American tribes still ruled it.

No one really knows what tribe he was from, what his real name was, or how old he was. There isn't a single detail about his identity, except he is sometimes called Istaqa, which is a clue that he might have been from the Hopi tribe, or maybe had been known by the Hopi.

In his tribe, whichever it was, Istaqa was the finest warrior they had. He could defeat anyone, and given the opportunity to duel an opposing tribe, he still came out victorious.

So, he grew arrogant, brash. He thought himself the greatest warrior of all time, and called himself so. The tribe was eager to see him leave.

One day he heard about creatures called "Bone Walkers" that had been attacking and killing people who wandered into a certain area of the forest. When Istaqa heard about it, he exclaimed, "I shall kill these beasts! You need not worry!"

The tribe, as terrible as it may seem, did not warn him about the danger. All of them had gotten fed up with him. They gave him the job because they knew it was impossible.

So, Istaqa took his spear to the woods, dressed in his finest clothing. He was sure he would come out victorious, because he always did. They weren't even people; they were bones! Why should he be worried?

He found the area of forest where the Bone Walkers were, and strode into it carelessly. It was getting dark, and after a while of searching, he started to get angry.

"Those fools put me up to this task in lies! They were hoping I wouldn't come back!" Istaqa raged, plunging his spear into the ground in frustration.

The sun was set, and all he could hear was the silence of Night, her dark hair obscuring his sight. Except suddenly, he could hear creaking.

Istaqa turned to find a skeleton grinning at him. It merely stood there, nothing holding it together except the occasional dark swirl of mist.

Another creak, and Istaqa turned to find another skeleton grinning at him. Terrified, he tried to tear his spear out of the ground, but it was too deeply buried. In desperation, he broke a tree limb off of a nearby oak.

He noticed the skeletons had stopped grinning. Their faces now held a fiery anger, as if the breaking of a tree limb has caused them personal harm.

They both lunged at him in unison.

Back in the village, the tribesmen could hear the inhuman shrieks coming from the forest.

When the sun rose, they spotted Istaqa limping towards them. He was missing an eye and half of the flesh on his leg, and his left arm was totally gone.

The tribesmen rushed to him, but he collapsed. Red stained his clothes and the branch he was still holding.
I said he survived the encounter. He didn't survive the injuries, however.

Istaqa was an arrogant fool, and he paid with his life for it. His spear is still buried in the earth somewhere deep in the woods.

They say that if you destroy nature around their lairs, the Bone Walkers will become angry with you and hunt you down.

No one has lived for more than a few hours after an encounter with the Bone Walkers. Be warned; arrogance and disregard for Nature will be the death of us all.