Corruptable

Chapter 9

Chapter 9: When the Crypt Doors Creak and the Tombstones...Quack?

Sally looked on as the ambassador and Abigaile disappeared into the trees. Three ghosts followed them, and once they were out of sight, she took off to the right of the West Plot forest. She ran as far from the lantern lights as she could. She felt panicked and alone. She couldn't tell which was worse; being chased by those horrid ghouls or being abandoned but safe.

When she was far enough away, she started searching the graves. The deeper into the forest, the more spread apart they were. The older ones were cracked and crumbled, rotting with the trees. Every so often, she heard the sound of rustling leaves behind her. She turned to see only the empty stretch of forest she'd left behind. She could've sworn she'd detected movement, like someone crouched, ducking behind a tree. She watched for a minute before deciding it was only her mind playing tricks. She returned to her search, but couldn't shake the feeling she was being watched. She heard a creepy pitter patter cross behind her, but once more was greeted with nothing when she stopped to look. It was a sound too light to be a person, she thought. It must've been a squirrel, she concluded, foraging deeper. She kept an eye over her shoulder, but it seemed no matter where she looked, something would move in her peripheral. It was as though the whole forest was alive, mocking her anxieties.

She took a deep breath, and pulled out her purse. She began to do the only thing that could calm her. She took out her mirror and began fixing her makeup. Her eyeliner was running down her cheeks. She wiped away stray marks and picked a few leaves out of her hair. If nothing else, she could control her appearance. Her gaze was so firmly affixed on herself, she almost didn't see the shadow looming behind her in the mirror.

She gasped and swung her parasol, but once more in vain. She was beginning to realise she was by herself, but not alone. She heard something emerging from the bushes behind her. She closed her eyes and swung again. This time, her parasol was stopped by something. She opened her eyes and tried to scream, but a hand covered her mouth, preventing any noise from escaping.

Knowing if she let out a shriek, it would alert the Sinister Eleven, so she had covered her own mouth to mask her surprise when her parasol had gotten caught on a tree limb. Someone had snuck up on her, but it was no foul ghost, only a foul.

In front of her sat a little white duck, its foot caught in the bramble.

"Oh you poor thing!" Sally bent down to the duck. She felt a wave of relief and reality wash over her.

"You know you gave me quite a scare!" The bird looked more flustered than her. She approached it slowly. It backed away from her, chattering.

"It's okay, lil' fella, I won't hurt you" She kneeled and reached out her arms. The duck raised its wings and opened its bill, threatening.

"It's okay," Sally repeated. It started nipping at her hands, not hard, but enough to warn. It looked a little like it was playing the mouth harp on her wrist, occasionally biting harder. Sally ignored its protests as she pulled apart the bramble wrapped around its leg. Once freed, she pulled away saying,

"See, all better!"

The duck waddled out from the bramble and tucked its beak into its wings, then started picking at its foot, occasionally looking up at Sally.

"Yeah, see, we're all on the same team," said Sally, standing up, "You know, when I first heard you in the bushes, I thought I was the one in trouble!"

As she'd finished speaking, an arm reached around and grabbed her from behind. With the cold steel of the knife pressed up against her neck, she let out a sharp gasp as the duck began quacking in alarm.