💕Chapter 7: Shriekers - Part 1: The Forest

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Type: Fluff
Foul Language: None
Subject Matter: Slightly Gruesome
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Deep in the old forest so thick with pine sat a little old house above the ground. The outside bore an old bridge connecting to two old trees. There were rickety, old, spiralling steps leading to the ground of the old earth. Inside, the small old house covered with vines laid some old furnishings: an old mildewy couch, an old lumpy bed, an old splintering table, and an old creaking rocking chair.

The residents contrast the feeling of age as they were young, mid to late twenties. Unlike the heartless, cold, unforgiving forest, these two were quite the opposite. So full of love and passion for each other, optimistic and full of life, until one monstrously vile day.

The forest is filled with grim creatures. There are the common ones, bears, wolves, raccoons, and so on but then there's one other. A creature so barbarous, so savage, so cold, so grisly, and so unforgiving. They say it would tear apart anything in its path, harming itself to get a better handle. The sight alone could kill a man, a death by fear.

They say the creatures (or as some call them, the shriekers) can stand up to eight feet tale but they slouch down, bringing those height to a shorter six feet. They are humanoid with a prominent spine. Their skin hangs on like spider webs, barley clinging to the nonexistent muscles. Bone is all they appear to be. Some say it's the elongated limbs that get them, others the webbed hands. Maybe it's the fly-like face but for most, it's the cold, dead, black eyes. With a simple glance they have the power to suck your own soul out, leaving you to be a shell of yourself.

Or so the story says. Story after story, why yes there were many tales on the genesis of these creatures, one infamous legend tells us the truth; and this truth is where our tale begins, in the little old tree house in the old pine forest, with our young and glorious couple.

The first woman, as beautiful as she could be for living in the forest for quite some time. Her body was tan and toned, strengthened from the hunting and fighting that is a requisite of her life. Her hair (a dark brown even without the dirt,) was chopped sloppily short with a hand carved blade to keep its distance as she worked her life.

She sat at the end of the table, chopping squirrel meat into many tiny pieces. While her wife tended to the fire enclosed with stone as to not burn the house, though there were scolding marks from past mistakes.

She was stirring a pot which was suspended by a branch, inside bore various vegetables and boiling water.

The cooking woman had a similar appearance, as far as body type and hair, (though her's was dirty blonde and slightly longer), except she was missing her left foot which was stolen from her in a loosing battle with a creature. Her foot was replaced by a sculpted prosthesis, which gave limited movement but worked well enough for her to keep out of harms way and keep a safe life.

"Fawn," called the blonde woman attempting to peak her wife's attention "the water, it's boiling." She stated turning back to tend to the soup.

"I've just finished the last cut." Fawn claimed, walking over to place the meat carefully in the pot. It spurred and bubbled with the added ingredients but soon calmed once again. She bent down beside her wife and watched as the fire licked at the pot, full of a meal which consisted of hard work and dedication.

An inhuman aggravated shriek filled the night air.

"They're getting closer, Aspen, every day." Fawn stated calmly continuing her staring into the pot.

"Are they getting closer, or are there just more of them?" She speculated continuing to tend to their dinner.

"Both probably." Fawn sighed, combing her fingers through her hair, which proved to be a difficult task. "Remind me again why we moved all the way out here."

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