A Curse of Gold

The wind began to carry a malicious tune of change in early September. By the last week of that month, the first delicate flakes of frozen water fell from the clouds, signaling the onset of winter. It was far too early, far too soon for the seasons to be changing.

Those who had long inhabited the land understood what was coming; they knew the perilous time that lay ahead of them. However, the unfortunate souls who had come in search of fortune were not interested in the mysteries surrounding the land. They believed the earth theirs to plunder, ravaging the soil of all golden flecks they deemed valuable.

Nora Tashka had felt the chill up her spine early that month. She watched as outsiders continued to pour in, seemingly oblivious to the strangeness of the weather. People of all sorts had come to this territory, each unique, yet all were searching for something. Some were running towards the tales of wealth; others were running from their past.

Most who lived here in the years prior had left when the slew of newcomers poured in. But a few, like Nora, had stayed. There was always trading, and she learned to protect herself from the filth that would occasionally surface in the town.

But this type of evil was nothing she could use blades or bullets on.

Nora sat with Wilford Huges at the furthest table from the door, keeping her eyes locked on its inswinging entrance. Noisy patrons carried on, drunkenly unaware of the sinking sun and the malevolent breeze blowing through the cracks of the walls.

"Did you find anything?"

Wilford shook his head at the girl, his leathery face turning into a scowl. There was no need for her to pursue the answers, not now.

With a quick nod, the duo stood to leave, letting the wooden feet of their chairs announce their departure. Nora felt eyes on her as she exited the small saloon, yet no one dared look at Wilford Huges. Not surprised, she followed closely behind his towering figure as they made their way toward their horses.

--

She noticed the figure as she rounded the trail directly off Main Street. Thomas Goodwin, the local preacher, had planted himself on the trail and directly in Wilford and Noras' path.

He stood squarely before their horses as if he was preparing to preach a sermon right there. He seemed sorely out of place, dressed in his Sunday best—but standing on the trail of muddied dirt and sludge.

Reigning their horses in, Nora and Wilford stared down at the man curiously.

"What can we do for you, Mr. Goodwin?"

Nora saw Thomas wince at the sound of Wilford's voice. He attempted to hide it, but she knew he was scared.

"Ah, Wilford! I have been looking for both of you. Where are you two headed?"

"We're heading out," Nora replied, "Why do you ask?"

Thomas lifted his head at the question. It was then she noticed the darkness under his eyes and the pallid color of his complexion. Thomas Goodwin looked unwell, downright sickly.

"I had a dream, about…well, about something just terrible," Thomas' voice waned and cracked as he continued, "I don't know how to explain it to 'ya. There was this, this entity. And it was just awful—killin' and eatin' everything in sight. I don't know how to tell it, but then…". His voice trailed off as he looked behind him nervously, fidgeting with his pristine white collar.

"Get on up here, boy." Wilford held his hand out to Thomas.

Thomas scrambled toward him, grabbing his hand and mounting the horse in a flash. He repeated his thanks many times to the pair as they began again down the path. Nora knew that Thomas must have been terribly frightened to get on the horse with such a pariah as Wilford. Sitting with sinners was spoken about by the religious but was never extended to Wilford Hughes. There was an unspoken but united prejudice against the man, of that Nora was certain. They were right that Wilford was a peculiar man. Some may have used words like eclectic or quiet to describe him. Still, others held harsher opinions of Wilford, claiming him to be evil, haunted by some spiritual malady they believed contagious.

In the townspeople's eyes, riding a horse with Wilford was akin to eating supper with a leper.

The trio cantered along the winding trail quietly, making turns and guiding their horses to an open clearing in the forest. Nora looked over at the preacher as he took in the strange spectacle before him, finding the familiar look of confusion and flashes of fear across his face. She had worn the same look when she first visited here.

Surrounding the small cabin was a combination of stacked rocks and lit torches, intricately spaced and designed. Stones standing over a foot taller than her horse's head with strange runes etched upon them; torches just as tall, with similar runes carved into their bark. The rock-like pillars and torches each stood at the edge of an iced-over body of water. A frozen pond covered the front of Wilford Hughes' cabin and barn, quiet and strong, like a glass protector.

--

The cabin was warm against the bitter cold of night, and Nora rubbed her hands together in front of the crackling fire. Wilford sat in a chair, grey eyes trailing Thomas as he paced back and forth.

"Sit down, and we can talk now. It's safe here." Wilford's words seemed to take Thomas by surprise as he stopped momentarily and frowned.

The rhythmic footfalls stopped.“What is happeneing here, Wilford?” Thomas frowned, kneeling before the man's chair.

Wilford hit his pipe and exhaled slowly. Looking at Nora, they shared a glance, and she nodded.

"Well, we don't know what it is. We only know that it's old, and it's comin'. They've done tore up this land, pillaged it, robbed it. All in the name of gold. They spilled blood because of their greed. I'm sure you've preached on greed before, right?"

Thomas stared, wide-eyed. He nodded slowly, taking in the man's words.

"We've all had the dreams. Maybe it comes from the Lord above; I don't rightly know. Hell, I don't know if we're the only ones havin' them. Could be more, just keeping it to themselves. Anyhow, that's how I found Nora, and I'm takin' it that's how you found us?"

"That's right," Thomas nodded slowly and shuddered visibly, "I saw you and Nora in my dream. You two were standing with me, somewhere in the forest, maybe? I can't be sure, but that thing was devouring everything. Killing and eating everything in sight."

Nora recoiled, memories of her own dreams gushing through her psyche. The nightmare was more of a premonition, a warning. Yet she and Wilford had remained in this place, attempting to find this evil and vanquish it, if possible.

"It's a spirit, Thomas. It's a spirit of greed and hunger, comes when men take too much. That lets it in, and it corrupts. See, the people? Desire has them. It has them." Nora spoke quietly, watching the look of realization sweep across Thomas' face.

"So what do—"

A blood-curdling shriek tore through the night and Thomas' line of questioning. A woman, undoubtedly, possibly close to the cabin. The screams continued, ripping the ambiance of the forest apart.

Wilford was already on his feet and had dropped the barricade to the front door.

"Wait, aren't we going to help that woman? What are you doing?" Thomas whirled around, stuttering over his sentences. Beads of sweat pouring from his face, hands holding his head in panic.

Nora moved to the window, pushing the interior shutters closed. She paid the preacher no mind and ignored his carrying on; soon, he would know.

"That ain't no woman, Thomas." Wilford shoved the lanky young man toward a small slit in the shutters, barely big enough for the barrel of a gun to fit through. "Look."

"You're insane, Wilford Hughes!" Thomas protested, yet his body followed Wilford's demand. He peered through the small hole, which would give him a view of the cabin's front.

Nora knew what he saw across the frozen pond, beyond the safety of the rocks and fire. She was looking through a similar hole in the door with one hand on her gun.

Thomas' scream was short-lived, dying somewhere in his throat and morphing into a mere whimper. Nora knew he had now laid eyes on what stalked the woods.

She watched intently as the entity lifted its head to the sky and mimicked the cry of a desperate woman, looking directly at the face of the cabin with its milky eyes.

As it neared the rock pillar, she felt her breath hitch in her throat, sweat slowly making its way past her upraised brow. Closer now, she could see the horror before her in more detail.

Its head was large and grossly distorted, with a lipless mouth that held extended and jagged teeth. Its skull sat atop an unnaturally skeletal frame, with its pale skin stretching over gnarled limbs. The elongation of its arms and legs was only the beginning of its putrid appearance; the being was triple jointed like a wolf or deer with no hooves. It stood on six claw-like toes, quietly and quickly tiptoeing towards them.

Then, as if it had been set ablaze, the monstrosity recoiled from the rock pillar and screeched in its natural tone. It echoed through the forest like nothing she had ever heard. Like the screams of a thousand men and animals together, an amalgamation of things unnatural and forsaken.

"What do we do?" Thomas choked out, his voice barely audible as he pulled himself away from the hole in the window. He fell against the wall, dragging his palms down his face and eventually burying his head within the safety of his hands.

"We kill it." Wilford's answered as he took up staring out the tiny hole in the window.

The smell of urine hung in the air, and Nora wasn't sure if it was from the beast or Thomas. The damp floor answered that question, and she felt for Thomas, who was not ready to hunt and kill a beast. She knew that almost no one would be, but they would have to ready themselves for this fight. Wilford, the reclusive man who had been shunned for his strange ways.

Thomas, a preacher in a land of evil and greed.

And Nora, a native of stolen land.

These were strange days, after all. Perhaps the trio of outliers would be suitable for these days.