Ivan the Horrible

Two: A Nightmare

The pile of firewood had grown since Ivan had finished unpacking. His hands were blistered, and sweat trailed down his neck. It was the one job he had. His mother and her husband had taken the first pile into town to sell. It was noon now, and definitely time for a break. Ivan stuck his axe into the stump where he split the firewood and headed into the warm cabin.

With all of the work he had done, he regretted his morning workout. Cutting the firewood was work enough and his upper body was feeling it now. Instead of snacking on some of the venison jerky in the pantry, Ivan simply washed his sweaty face then plopped down on the couch. Almost immediately he felt relief flood over his body from being able to relax. He closed his eyes to rest for a few minutes, but when he awoke, he realized about an hour had passed. Cursing to himself, Ivan hurried off the couch. When his mom came home she would expect another pile to be ready to take back to sell. Sure the pile was large as he left it, but he would never make enough to get his own place or buy enough material to build his own cabin. Ivan slipped his coat on and headed outside to continue his job, but when he opened the door, he wasn't in Alaska anymore.

He was home in Russia. It was pitch black outside, none of the lights or fire on. It was quiet too. No TV or music to fill the silent air. His booted footsteps echoed throughout the quaint house as he stepped inside.

"Pa?" He called in a confused voice. Not only was it eerily quiet, but incredibly cold. The heat had not been turned on, and in the dead of winter, it was cold enough kill. Ivan left the door open as he thoughtlessly wandered down the hall. Something was guiding him, and his legs felt numb with every step he took. A sinking feeling filled his stomach and heart began to beat faster. Something was wrong. "Pa?" He murmured again.

When he reached the kitchen, his body felt paralyzed. The yellow kitchen lights immediately reflected off the blood spilled on the kitchen floor. Ivan couldn't see what wound caused his father to bleed so much, but assumed that he couldn't have simply fallen and cracked his skull; not with this much blood on the ground. His fingers twitched as if to remind him that he was still able to move. Ivan brought his hands to his head and screamed in horror. All feelings in his legs left. He hit the floor with a thud as his screams echoed throughout the house.

The thought of regret settled over him. If he had gotten home from drinking with work friends sooner... if he had convinced his father to come to the bar with him... there were so many what-ifs. Seeing his father unmoving made Ivan realize that he was dead. Dead and never going to get up. As surrealistic as it seemed, understanding that someone is gone isn't really something anyone can prepare for. We all know that eventually our loved ones die, and we may except that reality, but to actually be confronted with death in such a harsh way, Ivan wished to vanish along with his father, for he would be left to navigate this world alone now.

His father's blood continued to pool. Tears had began to flood in Ivan's crystal blue eyes, but he could see through blurry vision that the blood was changing colors. Ivan inhaled, unsure of what was happening. He whimpered seeing crimson fade to black. Even though he was trembling and still felt a horrible shakiness in his legs, he stood up to examine the strange occurrence.

When he neared, a putrid smell greeted his nose. It couldn't have been the stench of rot, because clearly his father's body was not left for too long. With the chill in the air, the body wouldn't rot nearly as quick as it would if it were a different time of year. No, what Ivan was smelling was an Earthy smell, like he was lost in the woods. It was strong, and even though it wasn't particularly nasty, it was so strong it felt like the stench was coming from the inside of his nose.

The black blood began to move as Ivan stared into it. It writhed slowly, like snakes intertwining with themselves. Ivan jumped. He let out a startled cry as something began to rise from the pool of writhing black blood. A tentacle drenched in black sludge slowly unfurled from the pool. Ivan felt a scream rising in his throat, but couldn't make a sound. A knot was in his throat and body felt like it was on the verge of collapsing. The tentacle then shot forward, piercing him though the eyes.

Just before he could feel pain, the sound of the door slamming shut caused his eyes to pop open. Cold sweat dripped down his forehead. His entire body felt frigid. The fire was warm, but he felt cold from the vivid nightmare. His muscles were quaking and tears rolling down his cheeks. Ivan quickly wiped them away as his mother and her husband entered the cabin.

"Ivan?" His mother questioned. "You sleeping already?"

"Lazy boy!" Steven muttered as he headed to the kitchenette. Ivan stood straight, trying to hide the fact that he was still trembling. That comment from his step father was unnecessary, but there were still knots in his throat from the horrifying dream. He wanted to say something in defense, but Steven spoke up again, "Aida, you raised such a lazy son?!"

"I was just taking a break!" Ivan hissed under his breath once he had cleared his throat.

His mother, Aida, chuckled in a way that sounded condescending, but Ivan couldn't tell if she meant to sound rude or not.

"You are tired from your workout! You are strong enough! If you get any bigger we are going to have to widened the doorframes," she said and followed Steven to the kitchenette. They carried two large buckets of fish. Ivan walked over helped his mother with her basket. He caught glares from Steven, but didn't bother focusing on him too much. The intense smell of river fish hit his nose. It was strong, fishy of course, but that intense stench reminded him of the harsh woodsy smell still in his nose. The image of that black tentacle came into his head again. He turned away from the two and shivered. Trying to put the nightmare in the back of head as he headed back outside to continue working.

"Don't work too hard!" Steven muttered sarcastically. Only Aida laughed at his 'joke'. Ivan merely rolled his eyes. If his new normal was having to deal with a passive aggressive step father and nightmares haunting him about his father's murder, then Ivan found himself wishing to disappear even more so than when he first found his father dead in their home.