Shackles Of The Past

Chapter 27- A fairytale

He was once,

an angel.

~ Unknown.

***

Early the next morning, after a heavy rain poured down in the land of Dragsholm, washing away the slit and dirt on the surface, the sky remained gloomy with the sun taking its cover under the blanket of the thick clouds. As usual, the slaves had woken to carry out their various tasks.

With the dull and gloomy weather, it was obvious it would rain again, but within the next hour, it returned to its natural form. The cloud still retained its thick mists, not planning to float anytime soon and throughout. Even though it accommodated the hidden sun against the world, there was the wind that made boughs of naked trees sway in a rhythmic pressure of certain eruptions.

But once again, the same couldn't be told to the tower at far end. One who gazed up high would frit in fear. Just how much distance it took for the ominous aura to reach this far; as though it sent a message one could clearly read out aloud and hear from the whispers of the wind, singing death. It was all it screamed.

Somehow, this weather reminded her of the day she was born. The day she was brought from the womb of a human female. The day she chopped off her womb, and made her bled to death at her birth. And the beginning of her days the husband to the human female despised her.

Her father? He hated her, not just because she killed his wife, but also because he knew who she was. A witch born of a human, seed forth from a human male. But never had it bothered her to the extent he had sold her as a slave to this kingdom. The cursed land. Land of so many nightmares.

"Dragsholm is the start," Medyse spoke with a calm tone one day, her face arrayed with the unkindly expression when she was being serious. "The castle comes next. Your arrival to the kingdom is all part of the plan where someone’s fate lies in your hands, Medusa. Is that what you seek to know?”

Medusa remembered the words clearly, her mission that had once started even before she was born into another flesh and away from the grave. She had always knew Dragsholm were one kingdom she was destined to destroy, and a man she was prophesied to kill.

That look, Medusa could remember. It was filled with hate, disgust, anger and pain, right from day one from the human male before she was enslaved to Dragsholm. She remained passive but internally Medusa harbored zero feeling towards the man she never referred to as a father. From the start, she lived like a slave, working till her hands bled which eventually got calloused, beaten till her body was left with scars; a reminder of the harsh cruelty she received, and punished till her knees were bruised, mouth chapped, eyes swollen.

All this maltreatment started when he remarried in replacement of her deceased… his deceased wife. And the woman turned out to be how she had expected; cruel, brutal, and loath the mere sight of her.

She was reminded of a day that flashed her memory like fire being set on a pile of clothes. One dull twilight, her young self no more than ten winters old, was sent out on an errand by her stepmother, into the woods to get more logs that would last for the night. She wasn't allowed to return without the logs until the woman was satisfied with the amount she desired. Who would send their little one by this time and at this weather which was about to release a vengeful downpour of rain. But that woman did.

Little Medusa walked under the gaze of the gloomy sky, where the clouds grumbled and lightning sparks tried to escape every time the clouds clashed against each other. The breeze writhes upon each caress of the leaves, or the twigs or anything moveable. It took the dead leaves away from the ground, to wherever direction it kept on the soil.

When she succeeded in gathering enough logs, she had only taken three steps when she was suddenly surrounded by three huge men. Their faces were all covered with masks that could hardly identify them as they stood in a predatory poise.

They looked intimidating and much scary especially when stance seemed to be speaking the word danger. Especially when all that was gotten from the expression hidden beneath a mask, was nothing but that very word.

At this state, anyone under such circumstance would heed to their feet or scream in fright for help, but this wasn't the case for little Medusa. All she did was return the gaze they passed to her and remained fixed in her stance.

Droplets of rain fueled with intensity as if someone angered the gods began to pour when one took a step. The very one little Medusa had her eyes on throughout.

"What are you doing under this harsh rain, little girl? Have you lost your way?" One of them asked over the heavy rain that kept increasing each passing seconds, his voice unpleasant and rough.

Little Medusa stared at the man that spoke, his bulky body marching in a predatory swagger as she watched him approach her in a threatening manner with a posture that indicated 'no way to run' and she could only look at him without indifference.

However, she remained silent, her lazy eyes watching them, before she turned her back to leave, wanting to bypass. And someone blocked her way.

Her face darkened.

"How rude," The man commented with a scoff. "I asked a question and you intend to walk out. Weren't you thought manners to respect your elders?" he asked disdainfully and gauged her petite figure from head to toe.

Medusa still did not answer. At this point, they were all totally drenched but none seemed to be fazed by it. Their business had taken over their rationality. She glanced over her side and shifted, taking the other way, but that same someone blocked her. She was in the middle of pawns; the clear definition of rabbit being surrounded by sly foxes.

"Tch, your courage amazes me, little one. I find it, hmm, let me say, pleasing." He hummed at the end. "But little ones like you remain little in the eyes of the big ones, the mightier ones.”

Then she turned to face him. He walked closer without breaking the eye contact and just when he was few inches away, he crouched to her height, tilting his head and observed her. "Should I tell you a story girl?" then he raised his finger and moved the silver hair that covered almost all her face. But after he did, he almost regretted it. The look in those dead blue eyes; as if they were possessed by satan!

He quickly composed himself and shrugged off the feeling. "This story… revolves around a girl named Marinna." He started with a small sigh. "She was someone who took courage in every.little.thing she did." And he stressed it, using his finger to draw a small invisible arc step by step in space. Then he put on a small smile and continued. "Marinna had something in her, something she was born with that was despised by all. She stood up against any offense, although I must say, she was such a brave intelligent one, a victim of both jealousy and hatred. Due to that, Marinna grew prideful and pompous, always looking down on others while she referred herself as the 'big one.'" He paused. The rain didn't stop so as the people under it. A heart contented smile graced his lips when he continued.

"One day, Marinna was attacked by big men, those who were far bigger and stronger than her. And guess what?" No response. Or rather he didn't allow her to respond. "The courageous, envy in people's eyes turned out she couldn't save herself in the end." He released dirty and satisfying laughter. "Her lifeless body was all that was seen, neither her voice nor her tears. Her fragile neck was snapped away from her body. Her life ended there, in a tragic fate." As he said those words, he turned to face Medusa.

It only took Medusa a millisecond to pin the true meaning behind the underlying words in disguise as a tale. It wasn't a story just about Marinna but a tale that was going to be about her. But they missed a crucial part of it. Marinna never died.

Fools, she thought. Little did they know that the table would turn and face them.

"She will cost quite a token,” another man from behind spoke, in such a way that the bulky man smiled. But the next minute, lightning flashed across the sky causing the thunder to rattle with the loudest boom they have ever heard.

The lean man who spoke, looked up to the sky that poured down heavy raindrops before observing his surroundings. He doubted anyone would be present by this time and by this weather. It was a perfect timing for them. "Let's get this done with,"

The bulky man that spoke earlier trailed his finger down to little Medusa's nose before caressing those chapped lips in a satisfying manner, that didn’t move or tug in any motion to indicate she speaks.

This continued for few seconds and in a swift movement, she bit his finger with little effort very casually, and the bite made a bone cracking sound.

“AH, FUCK!” He screamed at the sudden attack as he stood jumping on his feet in pain. While the little girl stood unfazed by the hysterical screams, the formers looked astonished. The other guys watched him in utter shock. What just happened?

The thunder then struck again.

"Quick, bring out the salt!" One of them with a mask that only covered his eyes spoke, passing an urgent look at the lean man. At his voice, the lean one quickly took out something from his cloak with shaky hands and then handed it to him.

The man with the eye mask hurried with careful steps towards Medusa and kept a suitable distance away from the little witch, before unfolding the small cloth in his hand. Then he walked around her, in a circular manner, drawing an obvious circle with the salt in his hand and muttering a terrifying spell. He would stagger and stammer very often, but his urgency was far greater than his fear.

Little Medusa watched all this happen, following his movement with an eerie aura. Every now and then, the man pouring the salt would steal a glance towards the girl in fright. He was frightened by her intimidating aura. He did so until he successfully drew the circle and quickly moved back, watching the little girl stuck in the middle of a ritual.

They stood, watching the girl look at them behind her drenched silver hair, like someone being possessed. A minute passed, and nothing happened. But not until she walked towards the drawn ritual and dropped her leg on the salt, drawing back almost immediately.

The men didn’t notice how long they held their breath, until they witnessed what they had seen just happen. That she couldn’t trespass further within that salt. It indeed concluded she was trapped under the spell.

"D-did it work?" the lean man suddenly whispered to the furious man besides him, who responded with a deadly glare. He shifted in reflex, affected by his burning ire. Then he swallowed, and looked at the girl again.

Then another minute passed, when the girl finally took a step. Forward, forward, forward, and until she reached the end where the salt was drawn. She looked up from the ground, to the people who watched her. One with rage, another with determination and the last with fear.

And then the most horrific scene unfolded.

She pulled out her left leg and stepped on the ground outside the salt. The sight of it stole their breath in shock with a beating heart. Little Medusa then relaxed the leg on the ground, a perfect haunting posture for someone possessed chanting the words, bloody Mary, before bringing out the second one, and fully stepping away from the salt, breaking the barrier.

[Music recommendation: Black No. 1 (Little Miss Scare-All) by Type O Negative]

She cracked her neck in an unsatisfying manner, staring at them, causing their imagination to run wild with the idea of preying her next feast. Their faces eventually drained at the horror of it.

Just when they had slowly started moving backwards, the bitter man raged forward with the words, "I'll so fucking kill you, little witch!" and came after her with a furious glare, matching like a mad man who has lost his sanity a long time ago.

The wind came in sharp, as if urging the man ahead with his vicious thought, a promise of returning his raging heart of tempest with perfect solitude on embarking a forever journey to somewhere else.

He swung his hand to grab her, only for it to cut through the air. His eyes widened. And next he breathed through his nose, before turning back. "Where the hell is she?!" he screamed on top of his lungs under the blazing thunder that resounded in the forest, resounding like responding to his death warrant. “Where the fuck is she?!”

But no one. It was just him looking back and forth like a mad man; a man wanting to get hold of the cause of his anger, and probably send it to all pits of hell.

'Looking for me?' Like a siren luring its prey, the voice sang in his head, and he snapped behind. The wind took hold of his raging breaths, as he looked around. His heart raced beneath his ribcage but his anger was nowhere satiable, not to talk of his frustration.

"Where the fuck are you?!" he yelled, still frustrated by her twists and turns. Then, "Ohh… I get now," he released a short laugh. "Don't be scared," he coaxed half-heartedly. "Your fate will be far different from Mar-" When suddenly, the voice of the man faded with the harsh wind, as his head dangled boneless around his neck. His body fell to the ground with a heavy thud and his eyes was wide open in shock.

The other two men stared at their partner's body laying cold on the muddy ground, as the rain slipping down the slopes came in contact with his lifeless body.

For a moment, it was just the raindrops on the ground, not until it mixed itself washing away the red liquid coming from the dead man’s flesh, thereby contaminating it. One gone, two left.

Furiously, the one with determination stumbled with his eyes now twisted in malice, hungry for destruction. "I'll kill you!" With the overbearing rage he carried, he didn't think twice before charging towards the girl that appeared out of the blue. Gone was another sanity. He had indeed fallen into the Devil's trap. Or rather, the witch’s palm.

On his third huge steps forward, his right knee suddenly twisted, dangled and boneless. The sound of shattering bone echoed through the woods, a sickening crunch that made the last man’s stomach churn. It looked like something strong and powerful damaged his leg in such an instant and kept it under the mercy of the wind.

“AHH!!!” Screaming, he fell on his left knee, with his hands grabbing the dislocated limb. His face was contorted in agony, his eyes screaming silent terror and he collapsed. He watched in agonizing pain, wailing like a tortured prisoner with his mind overwhelmed by the searing and the impossibility of what had happened.

Little Medusa still stood in her exact position, adamant to the cries and screams of her tortured and oblivious to the weather without restrain. She merely picked up the logs from the far corner and carried it back to her arms, turning her back to leave as if nothing ever happened.

The man’s screams didn’t seem to seize, and the last man standing was left paralyzed by everything that had just happened. Had he known this would have happened, would he have decided to join them in this late night hunt?

And with sharp breaths, the tortured glared resentfully and gritted his teeth. Driven by a maddening desperation, he intended to get on his feet with his other leg, hoping to catch up with the vulnerable girl after much difficulty, limping towards her. His mind was made up. He was going to kill this bloody witch!

As the little girl kept walking with her usual slow steps, so did the limping of the man fast paced with muffled cries and flushed face, sweat-drenched and twisted in grimace, trying his hardest to catch up with her at his very best.

But what happened next was something worse.

His other leg had the same fate as the latter. The sound of shattering bone was like a gruesome echo, another merciless repetition of the previous horror. At that instant, the bone-breaks became the frequent sounds before thunder.

His eyes threatened to fall of its socket as he opened his mouth, "YOU…!!!” His screams shattered the sudden but rain-soaked silence, his body writhing in torment with his shattered mind consumed by the abyss of pain and the realization that he was now crippled.

He screamed, wailed, cursed and in no time, his body gave up with one final tortured scream as his legs twisted in a grotesque, inhuman pose.

***