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Servant

I am strong. I am Chosen.

By C.Z.Published 2 years ago 4 min read
21
Servant
Photo by Branimir Balogović on Unsplash

The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window. A single flickering flame was the only light in the empty building, sunlight and moonlight could not penetrate the inky blackness within. It had been so long since anyone had even looked upon the cabin, centuries even. Many had forgotten its very existence. That was their first mistake.

The trek to the cabin was long and arduous, swamp mud licked at my shoes, enticing me to sink further, further...

The forest spoke in many ways. The ancient hills held stories of war, blight, and long-dead gods. The rivers and ponds wailed with the voices of drowned souls. Even the moss whispered horrible stories of creatures ripping each other to shreds. They spoke to me. I was their chosen one.

I shivered as the sensation of being Chosen crawled down my spine. I had been so lost, so small and weak. Insignificant. Wandering the depths of the old forest was my only solace as my mind filled with dreadful things to do to humanity. If only I could reject them as they rejected me, make them feel the pain, the humiliation, the anguish...

A vicious wind whipped through the leaves around me, my friends agreeing with my very thoughts. We often had this conversation as I completed my ritual, hiking in and out of the woods daily. They loved to feast on my doubt and insecurity. They left nothing but the bones, consuming everything within me until all I had left was servitude to the Great Masters.

I was getting close to my destination. A small deer bounded across the path some ways ahead of me. A perfectly lovely little thing. It had no business being here. At least, that's what I thought until it turned towards me. One eyeball hung out of it's socket, bouncing about gaily against the creatures fur as it frolicked, chasing black moths through the pungent moss beds.

A grim smile crept across my face, I didn't even notice until my cheeks started to burn. It took all my concentration to turn the ghastly smile off. Did I want to smile? Maybe I did. The cruel nature of the forest was amusing, the way it played with the unfortunate beasts that wandered through it's tangle of branches. Beasts like me.

That day I had spoken to one of the Great Masters rolled in and out of my head in a dark grey fog. The sky had turned to charcoal, the air felt like sweat, sticky and foul, clinging to my hair and stinging my eyes. A shadow seemed to appear just out of my eyesight, hulking, shifting from one shape to another. The moisture clouded my vision and part of my brain begged me not to look closer.

"Weary and weak traveler." It labeled me, using the trees and rocks to speak. The voice boomed from all around, encompassing me. It had the texture of sharp gravel yet it smoothed the hatred I felt in my soul. It knew me. It wanted me.

"Wh-what are you?" My own voice sounded so tiny.

"You can not comprehend us. You may only serve," On the last word I felt it's hot breath swarm around me. I gagged on the scent, the image of a rotting carcass filling my brain. "Do you wish to serve?"

I sank to my knees, pushed apathetically by the breath that now seemed to come from behind me. I swallowed back the contents of my stomach and wiped my face with damp shirt. Speaking to this voice soothed the feelings of despair. I was being courted by a powerful being, seduced into servitude, and it tasted so acidic and sweet.

"I... I do."

A grisly chuckle erupted from the moss beneath me. It vibrated in my chest and my heart changed it's beating to match. Adrenaline surged through my veins, I ached to follow my new Master.

"There is a house here, where our last servant resided," The voice was loud, screeching in its depth. Warmth spread down the left side of my head. I reached up to my ear and my hand came back with dark blood on it. Something new and deep inside me told me to surrender the blood to the earth below. I did. A satisfied hum filled the air.

It continued, "There is a ritual. You will complete what our last could not. She was too weak. You will bring us back to our proper throne."

"Yes." I rasped. As soon as the word left my mouth the sky cleared and a single black ant crawled across my still bloody hand.

I am now on my last day of the ritual, a month long effort of bringing components to the cabin, the dirt floor inside that served as a prison door. I have the last ingredient with me, it hangs by my side. The body of squirrel runs up a tree beside me as it's head chitters at me from the forest floor.

I am stronger than the last. The Great Masters will reign once more.

I reach the cabin, older than the trees that surround it, and see that my single candle remained lit. The door creaks as I enter and prepare my circle in the dust and small bugs that inhabit the ground above the Great Masters. I draw the runes that were seared into my memory on that fateful day.

The last part. I take the final ingredient and unsheathe it above my head. A dagger, rusted and jagged.

"For you, Great Masters," I exclaim and, in one swift motion, I set loose my innards. I fall to all fours over the ritual circle, entrails covering the runes, blood pooling in the grooves. I feel nothing.

The ground shakes and I hear laughter, screaming, wailing, growling. I cannot stay upright anymore, the ground looks like an acceptable bed. I gaze out the open door, hoping to glimpse my Masters. The sky is once again charcoal and the air is thick with a scent so sickly and sweet that I would vomit if my stomach was still inside of me. My vision is going black and I feel myself slipping into oblivion.

"Well done," The walls themselves speak to me, lulling me to my eternal sleep.

I was stronger than the last. I was Chosen.

fiction
21

About the Creator

C.Z.

A slightly inspired, barely motivated, lover of fact and fiction

Reader insights

Outstanding

Excellent work. Looking forward to reading more!

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  1. Excellent storytelling

    Original narrative & well developed characters

  2. Easy to read and follow

    Well-structured & engaging content

  3. Compelling and original writing

    Creative use of language & vocab

  1. Heartfelt and relatable

    The story invoked strong personal emotions

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    Writing reflected the title & theme

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Comments (13)

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  • Tiffany Gordon about a year ago

    Incredible writing! Very well done!!!!👏🏾👏🏾👏🏾👏🏾

  • Babs Iversonabout a year ago

    Fabulous!!! Left some love💕💖😊

  • Julie Lacksonen2 years ago

    Fun read! Great job.

  • Whoaa this was fantastic and I loved it! Very captivating

  • Nice, good writing. I liked the vibe of the environment being used to 'speak'.

  • What a great story. Well done

  • Cathy holmes2 years ago

    Great story telling. Well done.

  • Gerald Holmes2 years ago

    This is so well done. Every line touch's the readers senses. Excellent writing.

  • Ashley McGee2 years ago

    Indeed! Very Lovecraftian!

  • Ali Howarth2 years ago

    Love this! Very well done.

  • Omar Al-Mahmeed2 years ago

    This tale is wonderfully written! You did truly capture the feel of a Lovecraftian short in your style and imagery; the tale also leaves me with hints of “Young Goodman Brown” in its telling, too. Good job!

  • Enjoyed the feel and writing and yes I got shades of Lovecraft, and a great image to draw you in.

  • Morgana Miller2 years ago

    This was fantastic writing and an absolutely chilling story.

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