Vices

A fierce hurricane trapped two writers within the confines of a cabin in the middle of the woods. What was meant to be a weekend retreat spiraled into seven days of Hell. The rains have yet to cease. The winds howled while the thunder pounded the walls of their feeble sanctuary. Productivity wasn’t even an option, deadlines weren’t the slightest thought.

The skies were just as black during the day as the night. Time stood still, jeopardizing the sanity of the two writers. They were naive to think this cabin would spur any kind of creativity, especially during this time.

Who can pen a single word while Mother Nature screams in your ear and pounds on ones’ front door? 

HE - What more can be done? 

SHE - The last resort. 

HE - Are you sure it will work?

SHE - What other option do we have?

They took a bite of inspiration from the Earth, then sat in front of the glowing fireplace. The writers embraced a silent meditation, focusing on the crackling flames. Minutes felt like hours. The anticipation got stronger and stronger at every movement. Joined hand and hand, they waited to enter an unknown realm of imagination.

The room got hot for a few moments. He ignored it, but his body and hands started too sweat. After a while He unlocked his grip to wipe it onto his shirt. With his eyes remaining closed, He gripped her extended hand once again. Only this time, He can’t seem to locate it. He opened his eyes, only to realize that She was gone, vanished without a trace. He stood up and called out for his companion. 

A knock at the door? He questioned what he thought He heard. There was nothing outside but fierce winds and the Devil’s tears. He waited, until the knock was heard again. He walked to the wooden door, filled the empty cabin with the creaking from the decaying floors. He reached the door, and opened it with the slightest caution. No one. Not a single soul for miles. Just the empty abyss of darkness, blessed with the holy waters from above. He looked into the distance, to find nothing. In a huff, He closed the door to return to find his lost partner.

As quick as He turned his back to the door, it knocked again. He remembered the investigation beyond the cabin. No one in front or beside for what seemed like forever. It was impossible for anyone to be so quick in that they would rush to the door to aggravate the writer in a matter of seconds. He contemplated the possibility of something inhumane that could reach a level of speed no mortal would comprehend. Or a creature that dwells below the floorboards. The creature could be taunting him, perhaps it could have kidnapped his writer's companion with the same speed it uses to knock at the door and vanish. Oh, this creature would have to be quick. But it could just be taunting and toying with him.

If this creature wanted him dead, it would have happened already. At the speed he lost his partner, he would have been gone. There was no rhyme or reason to think that there’s any purpose to his existence in this very moment, other than to be a pawn in the Devil’s game. He decided to embrace his fate, and opened the door again. This time with no apprehension or uncertainty. The darkness welcomed him once again. He closed his eyes, so that He would not look his potential assassin in the eye. He would feel victorious over this unknown creature that would satisfy its need to hunt him. He would have no fear, for He would expect it to have happened at any moment. Perhaps preparation was his immunity from any kind of terror. Alas, nothing once again. 

What changed about this particular moment from the last was a flutter that grazed the nose of the writer. He opened his eyes to find a raven that sits on the stoop before him. It tilted its head, croaking and stomping. The lightning reflects in its empty black eyes. He found himself startled, but curious. The bird flew away, beckoning him to follow. He stood in utter befuddlement, but the bird that startled him so could have been the source of that unholy knocking. Maybe this raven had something to say. What harm would following a bird in the night do?

The guide had been discovered.

He walked through the stormy woods, having the occasional strike of lighting indicate where the raven was leading him. Ahead was something most unsettling, perhaps the reason for this voyage. A rushing body of water below, where a dog was helpless struggling to free itself. The drowning dog clawed its way from the muddy pool with nothing to grasp onto. The squealing, screaming, begging, it was a nightmare for him to witness. Lightning had once again revealed a path to the dog. He took the path, and jumped ten feet below into the ravine. The wind forced him to grip the nearby branches and shrubs. The dog pinned against a rock, with rushing water bombarding and crashing at its helpless body. 

He leaped towards the rock, and grabbed the dog. Now He needed to free them both from this catastrophic situation. A few feet against the current sat a strong branch He could use to pull himself out. The dog gripped for its dear life as He swam against the waters pouring towards them. Eventually getting a hold of the branch, He pulled himself out. He and the dog panted, for they had reached safety. The dog looked at him, whimpering from the trauma it had clearly experienced. The body of this dog shook under the helpless, freezing conditions. He removed his shirt in an attempt to warm the dog, who responded instantly with a bite to the hand that saved him. He screamed with an unusual pain rushing up his arm. This dog’s eyes turned red as it dug its razor like teeth into his skin. He yanked his hand from the dog’s grip, causing him to fall back, sending him tumbling into the ravine. 

The current sent him rushing down stream. He tried to reach out to the surface for a moment of air, but was pulled back under. It seemed like an eternity, there was no hope of escaping this highway. He decided that his escape and only hope was through Death. He opened his mouth, accepting the water into his lungs. He became immobile, his arms spread out and sank into the darkness. However, death had not yet come for him. His eyes were wide opened, He could feel the water in his chest. He hit the ground like a concrete statue. It was dark and rather cold. The sound of the roaring current could be heard from above. But He stayed motionless and alone down below. Was this to be his forever? Was this going to be where He was to be for all eternity? He couldn’t breathe, but he could see, hear and feel everything. A fate worse than death. Knowing that not a soul would come to rescue him. His one question, where was She?

When She and He were side by side in front of the fireplace, waiting for the inspiration to spark, she was growing impatient. It seemed like it was a false hope for any kind of creative spark. A fire started to grow from within her, getting hotter and hotter. Was it rage? Was it even real? She opened her eyes to see that the heat was coming from the fireplace itself. The fire called to her, getting closer and closer. She didn’t want to leave her partner behind, so She ignored the signs. It was when He released his grip to dry his sweating hand, that She was pulled into the fires by force. 

She fell, deeper and deeper into an ever growing fire. Screaming could do no good, this was reality now. She hit the concrete ground, scuffing up her entire body. Her clothes burned, her skin nearly boiling. But death wouldn’t come for her. She stood, embracing the tormenting heat. Her hair turned a dark blood red, her eyes became as black as the night. She looked at her new home, made up of walls of fire. A long narrow bridge led to a gate, leading to the light. She started forward. Every step on her road to nowhere sent daggers through her feet. But her desire to escape this inferno made her take every step. 

Thunder from below the bridge shook the legs of the fallen writer. She stumbled as the bridge rumbled below her. What could it have been? The storm was above, not underneath. What was under her feet anyway? She pondered the idea that there is something that lurks under the grounds of what already seemed like purgatory. She stood frozen and unprepared for whatever was lurking in the blazes underneath the bridge. The rumbles for louder, louder, louder! Something was coming towards her, and She had one way out. She ran forward towards the gate while the Earth pounded beneath her. 

Upon reaching the gate, the sudden realization that it’d be locked didn’t come to mind as She bolted across the bridge. There was no sign of any lock, or key. Her situation became much more dire as the source of her escape had revealed itself. A tremendous figure, with the head of a bull, a muscular veiny torso, and hooves that pounded at every step. The creature roared a mighty, thunderous roar. It carried a sword engulfed in the Hellfire they’re surrounded by. The creature ran towards her. She screamed out for help, but no one behind the locked gate was in sight. 

The pounding of the ground sent stone pouring from above. She watched as this mighty creature bulldozed its way towards her. She embraced her fate, knowing there wasn’t a chance She stood against this titan. Standing firm, She awaited her demise. It was at that moment, a stone crashed before her. She noticed something sticking out of the edge, She climbed the boulder to find the grip of a blade. She watched her assailant with different eyes. Could She stand a chance now? Could She best this beast at swordplay? Better to die fighting, then waiting. She grabbed the handle and pulled out the blade encased within the boulder. She examined its beauty. Forged in steel, reflecting the blinding hellfire. The power of the gods seemed to rush through her veins. She stood her ground, preparing for the incoming creature. The beast lifted its sword, as did She. Their weapons met with the mighty clash. Dueling along the narrow bridge for what seemed like ages. The creature roared in her face, sliced her arm, burned her chest with the fire of a thousand screaming souls. She fell, but got back up every time. On her feet, the writer was sure She would die in that very spot. But something was helping her push forward in her attempts to subdue this monster. She faced her enemy, who stomped once more, roared once more. She clenched her fist in the handle and roared back. Running towards her foe one last time, She leaped over its head. While She was in the air, wings sprouted from her back. It was as much of a surprise to her as any. But embracing her newfound gift, She soared through the air and sent her sword into the heart of the monster. It fell, hitting the ground with a force so heavy it shook the Earth. She stood victorious on the chest of this unholy beast. She then threw him off the bridge, sending it back to the depths of Hell.

The creature engulfed within the fires of the underworld. Instantly afterwards, the gate opened. She took a moment to reflect on her unexpected bout. How did She get here? Why, for what was it worth to slay this beast? Nevertheless, She was greeted once more by an unusual visitor from below. A small bird flew out from beneath the bridge. She examined it more closely and found it to be a raven. The bird flew over her head and out through the gate. She felt it was her only choice but to follow. As her wings sprouted out once again, She flew through the gate as well. 

The hellish scene turned gray, almost cloudy. Thunderous rumblings were heard below, but more natural and of her own world. She followed the raven as it plunged downwards through the clouds. They became parallel with fierce rains that fell towards the woods below. She examined the flood, where the rushing waters amputated the trees and pulled shrubs from the soil. Was this home? She watched the raven fall and eventually splash into the running flood. Was it her duty to even attempt to save this bird? Perhaps it was trying to tell her something. She landed along the side of the ravine and examined the surrounding land. Nothing but roaring winds and flying leaves. However, looking below into the water. The raven had yet to return. It was a sign She could not ignore, She was aching to see what was below. Her fingers clenched and the desire burned in her stomach to know the truth. Without a second thought, She jumped into the water and swam downward. Reaching the bottom, She found a familiar looking face. The face with desperate eyes looking back at her. It was helpless, it was alone, it was He. She grabbed his hand and pulled him back to the surface. Her wings pushed her out of the water and pulled them into the sky. 

HE - You came back.

SHE - I don’t know where I came back from. 

They flew back to the cabin, unharmed by the storm. Cold, wet and exhausted of all energy. They sat in front of the fire to warm themselves. In an instant, her wings started to shed and fade away. She let them go like a loose memory. She embraced them in the moment, they’ve completed their purpose. It was time to find another. She closed her eyes, and joined hands with her companion. He was comforted by the blaze, it soothed the scars and took the water from his lungs. He could breathe, He could finally breathe once again. The smoothness of the air was as much comfort as a thousand quills grazing the softest skin. They closed their eyes, and fell for the night. 

The next morning, the fire was but a smoking pile of ash. The winds subsided and the rains vanished. Birds, chirping and singing their pleasant sweet melodies. He and She were sound asleep on the floor, pens in hand. A stack of paper sat in the middle of the two of them, each piece containing the words of two inspired authors. They had seen it, felt it, embraced the danger and celebrated the victories. They would awake to find themselves at the will of their work. It would be the greatest story they had ever told.

Funny thing is, they would not remember any of it.