Ivan the Horrible

Four: Awaken

Ivan had apologized to his mother in the morning. Though she didn't truly accept his apology, she knew not to speak of his father anymore. The young man was busy checking his rifle, cleaning it and making sure that it was stored safely in a easy to access case beneath the bed. The door to his makeshift room was shut. He would've felt embarrassed if it wasn't but would've continued was he was doing anyways if there wasn't a door.

He laid back in the bed having packed his newly cleaned and armed rifle in the case under the bed. Next, he pulled the blanket around himself and closed his eyes as if he were sleeping. As fast as he could, he then shot up and grabbed the case from beneath the bed. In mere seconds he had the case open and rifle in hands. To be safe, he kept the barrel pointed down. Satisfied, he placed the rifle back in the case and headed out of his room.

Aida and Steven were huddled by the fire. Even though they were supposed to be working today, much of the town took the day off. All except the small, self-governed police force.

The entire village had changed that night. Nothing that horrible had ever occurred before. The occasional animal attack would kill a few farm animals, or maybe try to attack a hunter, but never had anyone died in such a terrifying way. They say the streets were covered in blood. Crimson staining the snow in front of the cabin. Those were a bit of over embellishments of what really had happened. Ivan took a deep breath as he remembered what his mother had told him.

"Ivan, we are all staying here in the cabin today. Someone was killed last night in town."

Ivan slipped on his coat and headed for the door. Aida perked up a bit.

"Where are you going?" She demanded to know.

"Just outside to cut wood. Even if we aren't selling today I want to make sure we have a good stack for ourselves," he replied.

"Okay, keep your eyes open and do not leave the property!"

"Of course, Ma."

And with that, Ivan headed outside to begin his daily duty of chopping firewood. His mind quickly began to wander as he repeatedly split the logs one after the other. Who could've done something so terrible to such a nice couple. In the short amount of time Ivan had reacquainted himself with the old family friends, he felt that they were truly kind souls empathetic to the fact that Ivan was dealing with great loss. Nobody was following them as they went home. Nobody was approached their table angry at the couple last night. Nothing seemed to make sense, but then again his father's murder didn't make sense either. The only thing he had heard recently from his mother was that police said they were struck multiple times with a weapon with a heavy blade. What exactly that meant, Ivan couldn't tell.

A couple hours passed. As the soreness began to settle over his body, Ivan decided to head back inside. The sun was dipping below the horizon now. Hunger began to twist his stomach in knots which caused Ivan to call it a day. He collected an armful of split logs before heading into the cabin and locking the door behind himself.

The cabin was dark. His mother and step father had went to bed early it would seem. Without work, there wasn't much to do anyway. Ivan placed the logs by the fireplace, then got himself something to eat. He relaxed on the couch by the fireplace enjoying his meal while trying to get the recent events out of his head. He thought of leaving. Maybe he shouldn't have left Russia, but felt he should live with his mother. A part of him hoped that she would welcome him with open arms. They disputed how he would make money before the move. Whatever firewood he could sell would be needed, as it was an important resources for everyone including travelers who didn't have time to cut their own. Only problem was, his mother wanted to keep a portion of what he made from the firewood as she would be the one who would go into town and sell it with her fish. It was a harsh agreement, but Ivan accepted seeing that he was living with them for free.

With his plate still on his lap, Ivan found himself dosing off on the couch. Right before he drifted off though, he heard a familiar voice speaking to him.

"I'm your father's murderer!"

Ivan's eyes shot open. He bolted up with a jolt. The plate feel and shattered on the wooden floor. Ivan jumped again at the sound. He rubbed his eyes frantically as they adjusted to the light.

One his vision wasn't so blurry from sleep, he saw that he wasn't in his cabin, he slowed his pace. It was deathly quiet again. The place he found himself in was a house, another log cabin like his mother's, but this cabin was similar. The couch wasn't near the fireplace and the hallway seemed to stretch further. There were mounted deer heads in the living room and an eerie feeling creeping over him.

"Your father's murderer..." Ivan heard a voice speaking to him. As if he were being pulled through the cabin, he headed through the living room and made his way down the hall. There was a draft coming from the end of the hallway. The back window must be poorly insulated. Nonetheless, Ivan continued forward, feeling his hands quivering as he followed a strange intuition.

"If you met your father's murderer, what would you do?" Ivan heard something whispering to him. Well... he thought it was a voice speaking to him. The voice sound like his own, echoing in his mind. Maybe he was having strange thoughts, or maybe something was trying to warn him about his father's killer.

At the end of the hall was the master bedroom. The old wooden door creaked lowly as Ivan pushed it open. He gasped seeing a large figure standing over the bed. Fast asleep, was Clara and Alexander, unaware at the thing looming over them. Ivan didn't know what to do. He wanted to scream, but feared what the tall black figure would do. It's face was obscured, arms at its side. The shadow seemed to understand that Ivan saw it. It slowed raised and arm. Ivan felt his heart beating faster and faster. His legs felt numb and sweat dripped down the back of his neck. The shadow pointed at the two sleeping in the bed.

"Your father's murderer. What would you do?" he heard again. Ivan was stuck in his tracks. He couldn't move, couldn't think, couldn't decide what to do. All he could feel was a shiver running down his spine, but hearing about his father again... caused a bit of anger to flare within him. This creature was pushing him closer to the edge by bringing up his father.

"Shut up!" Ivan choked through clenched teeth.

"Ivan?" a tired voice questioned.

"SHUT UP!" Ivan screamed again. Just as Clara began to sat up, something invisible slammed into her chest. As she began to howl in pain, Alexander flew up, but something struck him too. Blood spurted through the air as something continued to hit their bodies. All Ivan could do, was watch in horror.

"What would-"

"Shut up!" Ivan whimpered and sunk to the cabin floor. He closed his eyes and covered his face as tears began to trail down his cheeks. When he opened his eyes, he was back at his mother's cabin on the couch. He frantically gazed around the room to see if he was still dreaming, but the warmth of the fire signaled that he had woken up.

With a deep breath, he stood. His body was freezing cold. Sweat coated his neck and tears still in his eyes. He walked to the front door to double check that it was locked, then went to get ready for bed. That figure crept into his mind again. A tall and haunting shadow lurking... Ivan sighed to himself and tried to put his nightmare out of his head.