Forever a Stranger and Alone

The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window.

At one point, the four who had gathered here each year deep within the woods had been friends.

At another point, they were a mixture of both friends and lovers.

Another still, long abandoned acquaintances and scorned lovers.

And yet another, on this night, fate had ever so kindly reunited them with the promise of a fun night out for the group of four who this year had no idea what they were to each other.

The world was falling apart, and without a better place to be, they each had forlornly gravitated back here to the comfort of what was familiar.

Well—the word fun in this case was entirely relative—for they would soon be unwilling participants in Creation’s darkest indulgence.

Around a fire they gathered, toasting s’mores as they chatted away about the years that had gone by and the time that had been lost. The memories that had been made and a future that had been broken.

It all started with the flickering flame, beckoning the Ashen One come forward.

Only one of the four could be the last one standing.

The unappointed leader who had once brought them all together was called Nawor, ever so haunted and lonely. His mind taken over by a demon who had wiggled and writhed into his very being, a parasite that could never be cleansed. Dreams of his had turned to nightmares under the guise of a fading hope, drawing him deeper and deeper into calamity.

The man with the deep blue eyes went by the name Melkon, who behind closed doors lived a life filled with a darkness and hatred which had consumed him like a black hole. Under the cloak of night, down dark alleys, he had committed unspeakable atrocities blacker than his heart. He now craved the feeling, fixated on the feeling, of letting his temptations loose on the ones he was closest too. Pretending to drop something, he leaned over to his right and could smell the flowery perfume she was wearing.

The once born puritan, innocent upon birth, only to be cursed immediately with her first breath of air into a desolate world. A former beauty who had been trapped in a house fire, an entire side of her face burned off to reveal the bones underneath and imbue with her a special kind of agony. Eventually she would decide to bare it all and let the world see her exposed face as they scorned her. Bestowed with misfortune the very day her mother had named her, Meroz.

The fool, who embodied the name with none of the good connotations that lingered around the moniker of fool, like the archetype of a naïve adventurer on a quest to become a hero. Instead, this fool was nothing but a drunkard and a bumbling idiot, a stain upon the already diseased species of humans who did nothing but eat and shit and kill and bully and lust for power. He lived with no regard for the destruction he left in his wake, just like some of the human scum he worshipped. Verdugo had wasted his talent, drowned in the deepest depths of depression, reduced to a life of constant delirium.

Every year they set up camp in the same place, not far from the cabin in the woods that had been abandoned for years. They had not yet noticed the light penetrating the dark sky in the short distance away. Soon enough they would not be able to resist its infatuating invitation. It called to them. To all of them. None of the four in the upcoming moment recognized the shock in each other because they had all been distracted by the same tormented voice suddenly arriving in their heads.

It spoke…

Naked and alone we came into exile. In her dark womb, we did not know our mother’s face; from the prison of her flesh have we come into the unspeakable and incommunicable prison of this earth.

Which of you has known themselves? Which of you has looked into a lover’s heart? Which of you will escape the eternal anguish of life?

Which of us is not forever a stranger and alone?

When each of them snapped out of it, they looked around the circle questioningly, none wanting to admit what they had just experienced out of fear of ridicule.

Verdugo, the fool, pulled a baggie out of his pack and held it up to the four so the burning fire could illuminate it for them all to see. Earlier a few of them had smoked, a few of them had drank, and they were now sobering up as the night was in full swing. On any normal night it was way past time for bed.

But this night only came around once a year.

And this year it would be an extra special night.

Nawor, the scourged, lit up a cigarette and took a deep drag, relishing the first puff as he leaned back in his chair.

Meroz, the cursed, looked upon him with disgust. It wasn’t the first time. She motioned to put her hand gently on the leg of Melkon, the wretched, who instinctively recoiled at the possibility of her maternal touch.

What comes around, goes around.

Mushrooms of the magical variety had been presented to the group. They had all dabbled with psychedelics at one point or another, but each of the remaining three who had been offered found reason not to partake for one excuse or another. The presentation was an offer needing no accompanying words. In an attempt to entice them, Verdugo, the fool, popped some into his mouth and began to chew and talk at the same time.

“C’mon. C’mon. This is the perfect time. It will be so cool! Join me, join me, free of charge, for my friends, of course! Come one, come all, enjoy some of these magical mushrooms. There’s a reason they earned the nickname ‘boomers.”

Two of them were contemplating.

Nawor, the scourged, asked the obvious.

“Why do they call ‘em boomers, again?”

Verdugo responded while making the mind-blown gesture with his free hand.

“Because, you know… Boom. Like a bomb.”

Then he was rudely interrupted by Melkon, the wretched.

“Put that shit away. I think I see something. Is that a candle I see flickering in the old cabin?”

Meroz, the cursed, was the first to get up and wander further up the path toward the cabin to get a closer look.

Nawor followed close behind with Melkon right next to him, firing off questions like when he first noticed it and what could it mean.

Verdugo found himself drawing alarmingly near a panic attack, equally because of the fear they may not be out in these woods alone and that he had just ingested a most-powerful intoxicant. There was no going back. Soon, whether he liked it or not, he would be tripping fuckin’ balls. He drew upon all the experience in screwed up situations and any mental fortitude he had left to keep his mind from fleeing to the brink of madness, telling himself everything would be alright and the flame would lead to nothing. He might even enjoy a quick reprieve inside, away from the never-ending swarm of bugs trying to eat him alive.

He would be the first to die. And then the bugs would be the least of his worries.

They were all walking towards the cabin in the woods they had long believed to be abandoned, until tonight, when a candle flame had summoned the four sinners.

Meroz had stopped to let the others catch up, watching the cabin intently for any signs of movement from within. The woods were still, not even the consistent calling of the owls or the bats offering pardon from the uncanny quiet.

She asked the group a question. A question she was also asking herself, having not yet made up her mind about how to proceed.

“So. Should we?”

Melkon was the first to step forward, barely hesitating to heed the eldritch calling of the voice who had come back in each of their heads once again.

There is no path. Beyond the scope of light, beyond the reach of Dark… what could possibly await us?

And yet, we seek it, insatiably… Such is our fate.

Up and up the trail they went until finally arriving at the front door. The cabin in the woods looked like what typical cabins in the woods look like.

Only one window allowed sight inside, and there wasn’t much to see. An empty room with a single candle on the windowsill, continuing to flicker this way and that like it was dancing to an upbeat tune.

Verdugo went straight up to the door and knocked. He was absent of bravery and anxious with nerves, needing to find out right this second who was dwelling inside and hopefully confirm it was no one threatening. While waiting, he looked out over the expanse at the rolling hills filled with trees… and they all appeared to be dead. The hills were rolling and waving and he could see all the minute details of one single living leaf hanging close by. He blinked his eyes. Then his vision returned to normal. It was starting. And this trip was going to be a doozy.

There was no answer at the door.

Twenty seconds passed and Melkon had had enough, pushing Verdugo aside as he started banging profusely on it to no avail. Then the two of them exchanged words.

“I don't think anyone's home.”

"Oh yeah? Ya think..."

The sarcasm in Melkon's tone sounded obvious. Drifting back into the shadows of night, Verdugo kept his head down, wanting to avoid conflict.

A second banging noise reverberated throughout the night coming somewhere from the side of the cabin. The four swung around to investigate, noticing right away the source of the racket. A whipping wind was catching on one of the double doors of the cellar, lifting it into the sky and dropping it back down along its hinge. A chain that had once shackled the door closed lay broken off to the side. Footprints leading from the woods into the cellar were obvious with nothing but the light from the stars and the moon.

Meroz spoke again, the same question she had posited before, just as fitting now as it was moments before.

“So… Should we?”

Her life was the most tragic of the four. Let’s just leave it at that.

None of them moved a muscle, and so she took the initiative herself.

“Let’s go you fucken babies. Live a little for once.”

Melkon grinned widely and agreed, following close behind her, planning out and visualizing in his head what would be happening between them later. Relishing in the knowledge of the despair he would soon inflict upon her. A greater despair than any other she had gone through thus far, although if her input was asked, she would not agree.

Nawor decided he would take the last position, bringing up the rear. Despite feeling annoyed he was now on babysitter duty for Verdugo, it couldn’t be helped now. What’s done is done, as they say.

Up front Melkon had taken out a specific brand of lighter that would burn until it ran out of fuel, regardless of the strength of a breeze trying to extinguish it. Nawor carried one as well and made his way down the cellar at a much slower pace than the others, examining the carvings and symbols engraved all over the walls.

A putrid smell smacked each one of them in the face, enough to startle them and halt their progress.

Verdugo begged like a frightened child.

“I think we should turn back. I think we should turn back. Guys. We should turn back. I don’t like this.”

Melkon instantly shut it down.

“Shut the fuck up and quit being such a bitch. Let’s see where this leads. Finally some excitement in my day and you want to pussy out now.”

Nawor looked over at Meroz, looking to see her reaction to how this chaotic night was unfolding. He had a bad feeling about this and almost spoke up. To his surprise, she nodded her head and echoed the sentiment. He could barely make out her mouthing the words.

“Bitch.”

Then she turned and looked directly at him. He must have been looking at her some type of way, because in the briefest of moments her eyes had softened. He pictured her reaching her hand out, interlocking with his, facing this together.

She looked away, reading his mind.

He looked down, feeling if any of the four of them was a bitch, it was him.

The putrid smell faded as quickly as it came, replaced by a much staler air. Mist began floating through the chamber they walked down. It held a reddish-orange hue, but that was probably from the lighters causing the illusion of color.

The last step down ended, and ten feet later, the first step up began courtesy of another staircase.

Verdugo’s trip began to intensify. He breathed deeply, in and out, in and out, counting to four with each transition, trying desperately to calm his nerves. Failing to keep his gaze straight ahead, his eyes darted around, the carvings seemed to pulsate in the same rhythm of his speeding heart, the chamber feeling like it was collapsing in on him. This was the first time in his life he had felt this claustrophobic and he lamented the loss of his default state of near sobriety he was in earlier.

The staircase went on and on and on. Each of them felt like they had traversed many more steps up then they had down, but again, none wanted to subject themselves to ridicule for sounding crazy. Once upon a time they could share anything with each other without fear of judgement. Oh, how times had changed.

Through me you go into a city of weeping; through me you go into eternal pain; through me you go amongst the lost people.

The mist grew thicker and thicker. A bright light was seeping through the cracks of the walls, making the lighters no longer necessary. The flames had nothing to do with the reddish hue after all, for the mist had turned an even deeper red yet maintained a transparency darkening the mood more than it did their sight.

One by one, the four of them emerged from the cellar, back into the forest. Or so they thought. It didn’t take them long to realize they were no longer in the same woods they had only just left behind.

A giant clearing waited in front of them, occupied by a single massive oak tree reaching up far into the endless sky, its true height obscured by the outstretched arms of its endless branches and leaves, some falling slowly to the ground like they were in slow motion. Their attention had all been drawn up, and once the last leaf had fallen, the red mist had thinned briefly in front of the base of the tree, revealing a masked figure sitting with its back leaning against it and with its knees pulled up in front of it, the figure resting its arms on its knees.

Reality bending and eerie sounds echoed throughout the clearing, accented by a strange static white noise. The sounds were not loud nor sharp, more so piercing as they reverberated around in the four’s brains like a bouncy ball of sound had been unleashed in there. Many different noises from many different recognizable instruments, and many different sounds from other unrecognizable ones had begun playing once all of them had stepped fully inside of the clearing. The tone shifted from dark and upbeat to dark and melancholy. A wind chime weaved in and out along with a disturbingly deep cello.

Madness was not always relentless and intense, for oftentimes it drifted peacefully along like a leaf on a lake.

The strange music possessed an added weird effect like it was coming from under water when there was none in sight. A sinister humming which grew louder and louder in the background, only to fall in pitch at its peak and continue on its up and then down, down and then up cycle.

Before they could think twice, the opening behind them had shut with a wicked bang. The way back out through the cellar vanished into thin air. The creepy music dissipated and, in its place, came the rustling of branches, the sound of the four of them breathing, random noises, disturbances, and intermittent quiet.

In the center of the clearing, its back against the massive tree, a lone creature sat dressed in an orange and brown set of tattered clothes that hung loosely. It was hard to tell the age of this figure. It could have been old enough to be on the edge of early adulthood, or a bigger sized teenager, or a child. Frankly it was hard to tell by the way it was sitting.

The mysterious masked figure wore a mask that was a lighter red than the mist and shaped like a heart, with white also being a part of its dominant color palette. It had a translucent halo floating above it. Curved horns jutted out of the sides angled towards the ground. Its eyes were the most haunting of all. A second heart shaped pattern traced the outer edges of them, amplifying those haunting eyes as a focal point so that the longer someone looked into them, the more they'd feel drawn into something dark and dangerous.

It was an illusion. A sick and twisted mind game that all four guests of honor became entrapped by. Every time the four glanced away and back again the cycle would repeat. Its irises were perfectly round and off scale, too big for its face, encompassing three separate rings. The outermost was black, the middle a bright purple, and the very inside a singular black dot. Although designed with a unique color scheme, there was a distinct pattern evident that still made it look clean and precise.

Three of them stared ahead, dumbfounded at what they were seeing, hearing, and experiencing. Side by side they stood, except for Verdugo stumbling ahead, moaning and groaning, completely overwhelmed and on the verge of shock. He had locked eyes with the thing leaning back against the tree and couldn’t look away. From every angle he saw stick-figure looking creatures glaring at him, some even inside the oak tree itself popping out and then back in, others still watching him in his peripherals.

He couldn’t stop himself. Closer and closer he hobbled towards the center of the clearing until he stumbled and went down hard, pushing himself back up on one knee with one fist in the dirt for balance, never breaking eye contact. Taking the mushrooms earlier was a bad, bad idea. They had blighted his mind, amplifying every creepy detail of everything and everyone.

“Whaa—whaa—what is this? Who are you? You’re not real. I’m only seeing things is all.”

The lone figure tilted his head slightly to the side. There were no further visual cues to signify its emotions with its mask being static, but Nawor could have sworn he'd seen a split second of movement where the thing was smiling.

Melkon found his voice, somehow managing to speak clearly and coherently without it cracking, without betraying any signs of fear. After all, he was the alpha male, and he could not do with showing signs of weakness. He said aloud to the other two still standing beside him.

“You seein what I’m seein?”

They responded in unison, unable themselves to look away from the spectacle in front of them.

“Yeah.”

They watched Verdugo go forward, a frightening curiosity preventing them from trying to stop his advances, waiting for the proverbial pin to drop.

The sound of the voice from earlier came back, except this time the words were spoken aloud, addressing them all. Right here in front of them sat the one responsible for all those malevolent interruptions from earlier.

“My—name—is—HuHu Kid. I am so very happy to have new friends over to play.”

Melkon responded without missing a beat.

“No one wants to play with you, freak.”

The insult went ignored by HuHu Kid, but not from Meroz. She broke away from the trance she didn’t realize she was in and looked over disapprovingly, having been called that same thing many times more than she could count. Nawor did the same, thinking the name calling and antagonistic attitude probably wasn’t the wisest course of action.

The masked figure pointed directly at Verdugo whose legs had turned to jelly out of pure terror.

“Him first.”

Verdugo exclaimed aloud, pointing to himself with his thumb, eyes wide as his body began to shake.

“Me!?”

He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Couldn’t believe this was all really happening. Thus far he'd never experienced a bad trip and this situation took things to a whole entire level. He’d hallucinated before but had never seen things that weren’t actually there. Roots burst from underneath the earth and headed directly towards him. Blood sucking monsters with tree-like characteristics broke apart from the center oak with spider like eyes and sharp rows of teeth.

The creatures and roots lunged toward Verdugo, grabbing at his arms and his legs and his torso, yanking at him, trying to bring him down. Soon enough Verdugo lost his balance, plummeting face first into the dirt. The tree monsters wasted no time, immediately dragging him back to their domain. He dug his fingernails into the ground to try and pull away, but to no avail. He screamed in desperation, yet the others could do nothing except watch in terror. The full length of his cry cut short as the things ripped his body apart and consumed him, promptly merging back underground as soon as they finished.

Ten excruciatingly long seconds passed as the remaining three watched it all happen in shock. The sound of a gong rang out from everywhere and nowhere all at once. Verdugo reappeared from inside the tree, his body still trapped inside. His head slumped down, and his eyes closed.

Emerging from the tree came an all-new mutated monster with more humanoid qualities. Now Verdugo’s body was pushed outside the tree, freshly in the clutches of this new monster whose makeshift hands and feet were made up of thick branches attached to smaller twigs. One of its hands was holding Verdugo by the top of his head, the twig fingers inserted directly inside of his brain. Once the tree monster and its prey were fully detached from the oak, both of them burrowed underneath the ground, gone.

Verdugo, the fool, was dead.

Meroz screamed.

Nawor muttered something unintelligibly.

Melkon charged forward, trying to catch Huhu Kid off guard by attacking without hesitation. The red mist swirled by a few different spots scattered about the clearing. Immediately after, patches of dirt were thrown about as various creatures arose from their slumber around the oak tree, staring dastardly at the remaining three intruders.

These creatures had human bodies but inhuman faces. One was a bird with an abnormally long beak, arms outstretched like it was pretending it could fly. Another danced grandiosely towards its master to protect it, sporting the bug-like features of three eyes and a mandible. Each of them were armed with unique weapons all capable of inflicting serious damage. There were two others who wore cloaks to conceal their features stoically waiting off to the sides.

Huhu Kid remained where it was. Its bare feet stuck out ahead of it half buried in the dirt. It pulled up its knees a bit further up to its chest, arms crisscrossed over the knees in more of a relaxed position rather than a vulnerable one, off putting in its stillness compared to the creatures rushing to its defense and the incoming threat of Melkon’s charge.

Then came the laughter, a malevolent laughter, in a dark playful tone.

Meroz and Nawor both shouted for Melkon to stop.

But it was already too late.

Birdman converged on Melkon with plenty of time to spare, closing the distance at lighting speed. It swung its mace and connected brutally into Melkon’s back. The spikes on the weapon were hooked so after making contact it would be nearly impossible to pull it back out without tearing the inflicted area to shreds.

He didn’t stand a chance. He made no sound when his fate was sealed.

Melkon, the wretched, was dead.

Bugface and Birdman converged upon the dead body while jumping up and down giddily. They took turns tearing up the body. Birdman had gone straight for the large intestine, slurping it up like a piece of spaghetti. Bugface gnawed away at the brains once he cracked Melkon’s skull open and scooped it out with his hand.

Nawor felt like he was about to puke.

Meroz nearly collapsed but managed to keep it together.

They turned and looked at each other, and for a brief moment in time, the two of them were in their own little world.

Nawor wanted to reach his hand out, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

Meroz wanted to reach her hand out, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it.

The other two creatures who cloaked their appearance started walking towards the two of them. Each considered running, but where would they go? There would be no escaping this.

Life as they knew it was over.

The ground a few feet in front of them rumbled, a trapdoor of sorts opening as a pedestal rose above, both terrifying and elegant in its design. Upon the pedestal sat a chest.

Sorrow and Despair approached, their names revealed by Huhu Kid via some special form of telepathy. With mirrored movements, they stopped on either side of the pedestal. Each of them faced the remaining two companions.

Sorrow began shedding tears, her cry spawning a light rain to blanket the clearing. Despair reached over to offer words and gestures of comfort, then he reached over and unlatched the chest.

Inside was a heart, startling Nawor who reflexively took a step back after seeing the thing still beating. Even stranger still, three daggers impaled the heart. He looked around at each of the other three, not knowing what to do with himself, wondering why he felt sadder than he did afraid.

Sorrow wiped the last tear with a finger and the rain had stopped. The red mist slowly dissipated from the clearing to unveil clear skies and a rainbow in the distance. Birds could be heard chirping just like they do during mundane mornings in Spring. Huhu Kid was gone, nowhere to be seen.

Sorrow drew one of the daggers from the heart and held it close.

Despair followed suit.

Without looking to her side—maybe deliberately or maybe not—Meroz seized the opportunity and grabbed the final dagger.

Nawor looked around, suddenly feeling left out of whatever game they were now playing.

Not even a glance towards him came from the woman he cared deeply for next to him. The feeling was not mutual. So he turned his attention elsewhere and addressed the two strangers.

"If you're going to kill me, do it already. I'm tired. I'm just real fucken tired. Tired of it all."

Despair brought his hands up and unveiled the hood. None of them saw this surprise coming.

A nearly identical second Nawor looked directly at his counterpart. He had the same of almost everything with only very minor differences to indicate it wasn’t so much as a clone but a different version of himself. Unless of course this appearance was nothing but an illusion. He slowly backed up while trying to process the newest development in a set of very, very strange series of events that felt as if they would soon be coming to a close.

Sorrow brought her hands up, revealing to be a different version of Meroz.

The real Meroz, or at least the one who hours before was enjoying s’mores around a campfire, displayed no emotions nor any discernible reaction to indicate in any way how she felt about the reveal. She was usually the type that wouldn't hesitate to speak if she had something to say.

Inside a aforementioned open chest, the heart continued to beat devoid of three daggers now in the hands of others.

Sorrow and Despair delivered a speech, alternating between speakers after each sentence.

“There are other worlds than these. We extend a most formal invitation to partake in making our Master's vision of ruling over the one true reality. A certain... quintessence... is needed. Thus why this ritual before you is happening. Your emotional bond with the other one will allow you to harvest his heart most effectively. Nothing can be done for him. Doomed, doomed all along he has been. Wicked he will turn when you do not reciprocate his advances. You do not need this betrayer by your side any longer. The ritual has already long been set in motion, and your deliverance shall be the final catalyst for its completion."

Meroz spoke next, remaining even-keeled.

“And what, exactly, is required of me?”

They did not answer with words, but rather their eyes, looking first to Nawor, then while raising their daggers, to the heart.

Nawor looked around in absolute horror, leagues beyond what he felt witnessing the deaths of Verdugo and Melkon before. He was supposed to have a grand destiny to fulfill. A life to live. A partner to love. This couldn't be real. It just couldn't be. He brought two fingers to his wrist, then to his neck to double check, unsurprised at what he felt. Or rather, what he didn't feel.

“No—No, no, no, no, no. Wait. Please, no. Why. Why me? Why does it have to be me who suffers.”

Nawor pleaded, but it would all be for naught. At this point the only thing he could do was shut up and preserve the last ounce of dignity that he might still have. His pain felt heavy and unrelenting.

He had no heartbeat. How his heart had been taken, he did not know. Any last words, he could think of none. This life was nothing but pain. So true it was, there was no reason to say it aloud. He did not accept his scourged fate, but it came nonetheless.

Despair went first, plunging the dagger back into the heart.

Sorrow did the same. Each of them overjoyed to be spilling fresh blood.

Meroz completed the ritual holding nothing back, right after looking directly into Nawor’s eyes for the first time in a while and mouthing the words.

“I’m sorry.”

With a final flash of red mist, Nawor's quintessence drained from his body and funneled inside the chest. His entire being gone like the wind. Sorrow motioned towards Meroz, the cursed.

"Devour him. Take from him, everything."

Meroz grinned madly and reached down to the now glowing heart. She took a bite from it, smearing blood on her face. Red energy engulfed her like an aura. She felt no regret.

When Nawor, the scourged, awoke, everything was dark. He had no comprehension of how much time had elapsed since what happened in the forest and beyond. In trying to open his eyes, he realized he had none. No body to control, either. Cruelly, he had been reduced to nothing but a floating consciousness.

And then it began. His eternal damnation.

His pain was absolute. His misery forever. His prayers and cries for help ignored. He could do nothing but wallow in sorrow and despair.

“Why me?”

The End