❝ DEATH IS COMING.
BUT SHE DOESN'T FEAR HIM. ❞
For the people of Khaya's little village living amidst the woods is quiet, and even more, so it became since the creatures lurking in its shadows turned into mere fairytales. Little does Khaya know that...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
WHAT DEATH CANNOT TOUCH i. stories we tell in the dark
❆ ❆ ❆
The night the strange priest and his soldier came to the village of Lasow, he brought with him winter and fear.
Darkness started to crawl out of the woods to swallow the few tiny houses unnaturally early that day. Accompanied by a cold, howling wind that demanded admittance into the rooms to extinguish their fires, it forced everyone to stay inside. Snow came late this year—the first hint of snowflakes just appearing now, shortly before the winter solstice—but it promised to fall fast and merciless.
Yet, they could keep the cold well outside. It was too hot to be comfortable, even. To Khaya Raskina, the heat radiating from the oven mixing with the smell of baking bread and wet cloth and turning the air thick made the thought of fresh air nearly tempting. But she did not lay her embroidery down, get up and leave. Soon enough, she'd be happy for any bit of warmth. Maybe tonight she would already freeze and wish back these moments of glowing cheeks in the firelight.
While she and the other adults gathered around the oven occupied with work, the children stuck to the window and listened in fearful admiration to the crying storm outside. Their giggling and teasing swayed to Khaya, intermingling with the melody Majda hummed.
"You know what that means, Ulya? Karachun is out to find him a victim," Ilya said with a vicious smile. "And he prefers little blonde girls." "You're lying," Ulya screamed back. Still, her little fingers hastily shoved golden strands of hair under the scarf wrapped around her head.
"But don't you hear it? The wind cries your name: Ulya, Uuulyaaa!" "I hear nothing but your silly voice." But even while trying to sound confident, she believed to hear it now, too. What if Karachun's angry voice called her to come out? What if ...
"And when everyone's asleep..." Ilya paused, his brown eyes glowing reddish in the candlelight as of a demon. "... he'll crawl in and get you!"
The boy growled and jumped at her, making Ulya back away with a high screech.
Starting from the unpleasantly loud noise, Khaya lost hold of her needle. The tiny warmed-up metal slipped through her fingers, followed by a rather foolish attempt to catch it. Instead of fabric, it pierced Khaya's soft flesh with sharp pain.
"Ulyana, be quiet." Khaya's aunt shushed her children.
"But, mamma, Ilya—"
Her brother didn't let her finish the sentence: "She's lying! I didn't do anything."
However, to their dismay, Dorka did not care to hear who started the childish fight. She already knew their finger-pointing all too well and became tired of listening. "Enough! Stop it, both of you. Don't you see what you've done?"
