Haunted by the night

  I can remember it like it was just yesterday. It was an autumn evening and I was headed into the woods to search for ingredients for some tea. As I walked I listened to the sounds of nature around me. I heard the birds chirping, the bees buzzing, and all manner of life existing at once. Most people would see this as beauty, but I had lived long enough to know that it only looked pretty from the view I held.

  Surrounding me was a constant barrage of wars being waged. Ants against ants, plants against plants, creatures dying as they lived and living as they died. When I was younger, death scared me. But now, after all this time, death is nothing more than a facet of my daily life. I suppose that's to be expected when you're a lich.

  My name was Caitlin, and I ran a small tea shop. I had a fair few friends and none if any foes. I had lived this way for several hundreds of years, and as of now I was content with this life. Sometimes I would spiral and wish for my existence to end while others I couldn't be more glad for the life I had lived, but through most of my days a sense of mediocrity surpassed any emotions a normal person might have.

  Normal people were a concept so far removed from me that I barely knew what was normal these days anyways. I knew the basics but had no sense of the common folks ideals or aspirations. All I could piece together was what I found from the weekly newspaper. Rarely would anything of interest be seen on its pages but sometimes, sometimes something that truly brings emotions out would be hidden within the confines of the grayish papers.

  One such recent thing would be the disappearance of 19 year old Mortis Hopeman within the woods near my house. The townsfolk had searched the woods for days in an attempt to find any evidence of the boy, and unfortunately they found the worst kind of evidence a scared parent could find. They had found the skeletal remains of their son, devoid of meat, hair or clothes. But what's much worse was how his body was found.

  Draped in the treetops, his body was discovered to have been turned into a blood eagle. With no evidence as to who the perpetrator was, the townsfolk began to look into any suspicious individuals, which truthfully means anyone they disliked. Neighbors turned on eachother, families were divided, but most of all, the people looked to me. Seeing me as a witch of the woods, some believed I had been the one to commit such a wretched act against someone so innocent. They came to my home, torches and pitchforks at the ready, determined to enact a punishment upon me that I had no desire to claim. They wished nothing more than to watch me perish and suffer while doing so. That was, however, until the true killer was found.

  Crow Heartfile had been kidnapping, torturing, and killing people for well over 23 years. They would move from town to town, rarely staying for more than 3 years. They would spend a year getting to know people, a year planning, and then spend a year hiding in plain sight after they had committed the crime. Due to how limited communication was, people couldn't look into their past and see the true monster they were now living with. In order to prevent any evidence of the murder from being found, Crow had devised a plan to remove all evidence.

  They would first silence their victim getting closer to them over the years, causing them to slowly become louder and more energetic. They would take them to sporting events and cause them to become accustomed to the idea of cheering as loud as possible for their team. When enough time had passed, the victims' vocal cords would have a much harder time working as they did before.

  Following this, Crow would invite them out for a camping trip to either celebrate their team's win or take their mind off their team's loss. Once out in the woods, Crow would bring a variety of numbing agents with them. Alcohol, sedatives, anything they could somehow convince their victim to try would be used. Once the victim was asleep, Crow would restrain them, then slowly injure them until they woke up, leaving as many cuts and bruises as possible, as if they were playing a game of Jenga on a living tower.