What Defines "Normal"?
Ever get that feeling in the pit of your stomach? You know, the one where it's almost as if it were warning you something bad was about to happen? But that's all it is, just a feeling. So you ignore it. Only, you find out later that you should have listened to it? That's how Sarah felt the day of the Woodlings.
Unlike other stories, this story will not start off with "Once Upon A Time...", and then proceed to tell a lavish story of a sorrowful hero on an overly dramatic journey to overcome an obstacle or villain, and then "magically" live happily ever after. Not this story.
This story opens in a lovely little village, many years ago...
Chapter 1:
The Life and Times of Jonathon Parks
Sarah slipped the pure white dress over her head, and let it cover her blood stained body. She prayed the blood wouldn't seep through. If it did, then the gossiping hags next door would never shut their mouths. Things were bad enough as it was, she didn't need the whole village to find out about her. She didn't need to become more of an outcast than she already was.
Luckily, for her own sake, it didn't seep through. Well, at least not yet.
Sarah slowly finished getting dressed, and again, that feeling in the pit of her stomach appeared. She'd have to go into the Woods today, but she tried getting that out of her mind. She tried to get the fact that all of her friends her age who were entering the celebration of the Woodlings wouldn't return home. Death at this age was common. Lucky Sarah.
Sarah slipped on the brown hand-me-down boots her mother had picked up for her at the market place. They were a size too small. She could already feel the oncoming blisters while taking her first step toward the door, but never mind that. This would be the last thing on her mind. She'd rather worry about the bandits, cannibals, 1. wolves, rapists, and the occasional 'monster' she'd possibly encounter. Not to mention the old tale of the Binder...
The Binder was an old bed time story, so to say, to scare children from an early age about the Celebration of the Woodlings. Supposedly, the Binder was born in the village many years ago, but was cast out a little after his birth. He was born a misshapen child, not fit to carry on his worthless life in the village, for the townspeople believed he was 'touched by the devil'.
The village elders were informed of him by a group of gossiping old hags, and since he was different, and deemed not fit to live, was thrown into the woods to die. Unfortunately, his parents weren't just about to let their only son suffer a lonesome death. His mother crept into the woods that night, and from her past Woodlings experience, knew of a cave he could seek shelter in. A cave he could live in. His only chance for survival.
His name was Jonathon Parks. His mother and father loved him, despite his differences. They visited him at night, and always came with food, comfort, and acted as though he were an ordinary child. Poor Jonathon Parks had no idea he was different.
His father even began teaching Jonathon his own craft, to follow in his footsteps as a well respected man in the town. His father, the local Doctor, taught Jonathon all about medicinal herbs, and how to heal, and when Jonathon turned a more mature age, he was taught surgeries, and often practiced on the dead animals he would find in the woods. He had a natural skill at the craft, and his parents were proud, yet were filled with a terrible sense of sadness to know their son would never be able to live in the community and help as a doctor.
Yet the family was content, and Jonathon grew into adulthood. His parents stopped visiting one day, in the middle of winter. Jonathon assumed it was because they were growing old, and the snow made it difficult for them to visit. Then the snow melted. Still no sign of his parents. Jonathon grew suspicious, but waited.
One quiet spring morning, Jonathon set out for the town, despite his parents warnings. For some reason, they didn't want him there. They said the town was an evil place, but how evil could it be? Besides, he would be seeing people other than his parents for the first time. He was excited to be home. Who knew, maybe this was just a ploy to get Jonathon to come into town, where there would be a big celebration on for his arrival.
Jonathon hobbled as fast as he could, occasionally taking short breaks to rub his left leg. His mother had told him it had broken many years ago, and healed wrong.
His knee jerked out at the wrong place and his leg curved at an angle. Perhaps he had fallen out of a tree while playing with his friends when he lived in the town. He continued on, until suddenly there was a clearing, and a bright light. The sun had risen, and the town was bursting with life.
Jonathon smiled, and sped off toward the town. He didn't care about the throbbing in his leg, he didn't notice when his shirt got caught on a branch, he didn't notice the townspeople looking at him, and scrambling away. He didn't notice the screams of terror, but only heard squeals of delight at his arrival.
When he stopped to catch his breath, he knelt down. His leg was throbbing, and his heart felt like it was going to explode. He collapsed onto the ground, panting, and rubbing his head. He needed to remember what house his parents lived in. They told him once before, two years ago, but it was only in case of an emergency. He suddenly became aware of his surroundings. He was sitting in front of an iron gate, which surrounded a white building with a cross on the front.
The story goes on to tell that Jonathon searched high and low throughout the town, but no one would answer the door when he begged for help. No one went outside of their house. Finally, Jonathon ended up back where he started, in front of the white building and iron gates, but this time, the gate was open.
Jonathon walked through the rusted gate, and looked up at the stained glass windows. There was no way he'd take a chance and knock on the big wooden doors, no one would answer. Instead, he began walking through the garden, and ended up walking along the side of the church. He took his time, gazing at the flowers, stopping occasionally to pick one and smell it. He was following a stone pathway, which lead to a sign along the side of the church.
Dr. Everett Parks and his wife, Petunia
Charged with ruthless acts of defiance against the elders -ruthless behavior - putting their fellow townspeople in harm -obstructing the natural order - participated in witchcraft- condemned as evil and immoral.
Found guilty of all charges.
May the Devil spare their souls.
Jonathon looked up, and fell to his knees. Behind the sign, were two large beams. Impaled on the beams, were his parents. They had already begun to decompose.
That night, Jonathon supposedly murdered all those dwelling in the church. He kidnaped the elders, took them back to his cave, and with his knowledge of medicine and surgery, made sure they were tortured slowly.
There was one survivor, Patrick Smith, the man who impaled the Parks. He fled back to the town, his internal organs on the outside of his body. He lived for five days, before his organs exploded due to a chemical resting in his stomach Jonathon had planted.
Sarah quickly controlled her thoughts. There was no time to daydream about kiddy stories.
Sarah quickly walked out of her house without a word to her family. They weren't your typical happy peasant family. Her parents were fake in the sense that they act one way in the public eye, but are totally different in the privacy of their own home. They despised Sarah, despite her efforts for their favor. It was because of them Sarah had to live a life of hell.
As Sarah walked down the poorly made cobblestone streets, she couldn't help notice the 'lasts'. The last time she walked past the surgeons house, the butcher's place. The last time she walked by the street market, and the run down shacks in between. The last time she'd probably walk past her newly built two story school, where the younger children stood inside the iron gates, staring at the passerbys dressed in white. But, because of the Celebration, Sarah and her former classmates had graduated from the highest grade already.
She also noticed people were giving her last looks. Some were of compassion. These were the people who understood loss, and fear, and remembered the time they entered the woods, and how scared they were of dying. They had hope for all of the children, and prayed for their safe return.
Then there were the people who showed no sympathy at all, just a blank stare. These people survived the woods, but were just prone to feeling anything after the many lives the woods took, and how their own life was almost stolen from them. They treated every child as if they were already dead.
Sarah neared the Church, a place she used to go to full of faith, but after years of living in her own hell, had lost it. How could God, a being filled with so called 'compassion', let her live the way she did? What did she ever do to him to make him so pissed off in the first place? She had stopped going to church years ago.
Now, she entered the church, and couldn't help but pray for her own safety. It couldn't hurt God to help her out just this once. He owed her. Besides, she'd need all the help she could get.
Sarah walked calmly through the tall red oak doors and joined the other participants of this years Woodling Celebration. Everyone was already seated in the pews, and Doctor Paes was already speaking at the pulpit.
Thanks to daydreaming, Sarah had once again arrived late.
As she took a step in, Doctor Paes stopped talking, and everyone turned around to see what could possibly disrupt the Doctor's words of wisdom of how to overcome your fears, and come out of the woods a new and 'pure' soul Or better yet, how to survive.
Sarah, who was mortified, smiled sheepishly, and quickly spotted her friend Betsy waving obnoxiously above the mass of heads. She quickly walked over and sat down next to her, and the congregation, after a few seconds of murmuring and whispering, focused back on the Doctor who now seemed agitated.
Good old Betsy Patterson, Sarah's only close friend. Well, Sarah's only friend. Betsy was a tall and slender blonde, loud too. All the boys in the village liked her, and she was popular. Her only downfall was having Sarah as a friend.
Sarah and Betsy were complete opposites. Sarah was quiet, and was almost always reading a book. Unlike Betsy's straight blonde hair, and sparkling green eyes, Sarah had long brown, almost black curly hair which she always wore up in a bun, and had dull hazel eyes, and unlike Betsy's perfectly tan skin covered in cute freckles, Sarah had extremely pale skin and a small, single freckle on the doc of her right eye.
Despite all their differences, the two were best of friends. Betsy stood up for Sarah when the other girls picked on her, and though Sarah was a girl of few words, when the two were together they both equally chatted away.
"What the hell took you so long?", Betsy hissed, barely above a whisper.
Sarah clasped her hands nervously. "I thought I was early, so I took my time. Watch your language, Betsy Patterson. The elders wouldn't approve."
"-and like I was beginning to say earlier, before I was interrupted, is that all of you will find yourselves in the woods. When you are afraid, pray. When you are alone, pray. Ask God for his help and the Holy Spirit to show you the way. Remember, not all of you will return home, and that is God's will, so I advise you all repent now, less you face Satan in eternal damnation." cried Doctor Paes in an overly dramatic voice.
Doctor Paes was a small man, with a round body and fiery hair who lectured every so often at church meetings. He was one of the elders, yet no one took him seriously. Just last week, Dr. Paes practically had the town in an uproar claiming how the Lord speaks to him through his dog, Miffits. And, what kind of a doctor Dr. Paes was, remained a complete mystery.
"Eternal damnation... wow. On top of the fact you're going to all die a horrible, slow death, let's just take away all hope now, kids. You're going to burn in hell too!", Betsy whispered sarcastically.
Sarah hung her head low. Betsy would never learn. She had the mouth of a boy.
"I now turn this meeting over to a most respected man, who not only killed the demon Amethyst, a henchman of the Devil's, but who also applies his time to the needs and the people of this town. James Coulter.", Doctor Paes said with much adoration in his voice.
Sarah had heard stories of the great James Coulter, but had never actually seen him. She was taken aback when she saw a tall, scraggly man with black shaggy hair. It looked as though he hadn't shaved in weeks, and his clothes were tattered in various places. This man more or less looked like the common criminal, and not the great hero everyone made him out to be.
James peered at the congregation of seventeen year olds, eying them all suspiciously. It was almost as if he was trying to see which ones would live or die. It seemed like an eternity until he finally began to talk. "I am a man of few words. I like to get things done... I like them done right. Your doctor here asked me to talk to you kids, but what is there to say?... You're all going to die if you don't use common sense. Think. Breathe. There's always a way out... Get out as soon as possible... Any questions?"
The congregation was stunned. He really was a man of few words. Everyone sat in silence for what seemed like ten minutes, yet James Coulter waited. Finally, Jed, one of Betsy's love interests, raised his hand.
"Are you really the great James Coulter who killed Amethyst?", he asked.
"Never judge a book by its cover.", Coulter replied. "Ye'll learn that fast in the woods. A leaf could really be a swallow in disguise for example."
"There's no such things as swallows. They're only a myth made up to scare little kids. Like there's really some race of 'demons' out there ready to kill us.", another boy replied.
Coulter sighed. "Swallows are real. You'll find out soon enough. They're short critters, only rise to about your ankle, but they're arms are as long as their body, and better yet they walk on their nails, which hurt like a bit-... I mean hurt quite a bit. They can't kill ye' but they can hurt ya a lot. It was just an example, kid. Believe me or not I don't care."
Sarah looked up in astonishment, surely she's going to die. She knew first hand that the 'myths' told to the kids at night before they went to bed were real.
Doctor Paes ran up to the podium, his old eyes suddenly wide with youth. He almost pushed Coulter to the floor before announcing it was finally time. The time had come for everyone to enter the woods. Everyone stood up, and a mass of people dressed in white, said their final goodbyes to their friends, knowing they may never see them again.
Sarah and Betsy embraced, Betsy in tears and Sarah just on the verge.
"Promise you'll get yourself out safely, Sarah. I need you to be at my wedding after all", Betsy exclaimed in a matter of fact voice.
Sarah stood stunned. She slowly wiped away a tear on her face, and then grabbed Betsy's hand. "Betsy Patterson you have so much to tell me in such short time! Start explaining now!"
"Adrian Smith proposed this morning! He came down from the farm and up to my cottage and my parents' gave their blessing! Can you believe it? I'll be a married woman by the time we get back! And to a farmer's wife! Ah, Sarah. Life just doesn't get any better than this! OH, and lest I forget, our friend Abigail is also engaged, Teresa too! Oh, Sarah! Now's a time for rejoice, not a time for remorse."
"Come on, Betsy. We need to start moving before we're the last ones out!", Sarah said, knowing Adrian Smith was scum of the Earth, yet she kept it in, trying to hold on to the bit of happiness that was emanating from Betsy.
Sarah and Betsy began to walk out of the church, both linking arms and embracing every few steps. Both were crying, more than they ever had in their lifetime, well, except for Sarah, but still.
They only reached the iron gate before they were stopped, by a rough voice, and a hand that grabbed Sarah's shoulder, sending a sharp pain down her spine.
"Who are you?", the voice said, and as Sarah turned she found it to be James Coulter himself.
Sarah stumbled away from him a bit, so that his hand fell to his side. Betsy looked at the pair wide eyed, before butting in. "Her name's Sarah, sir. Why do you want to know? Did she do anything wrong?"
"No.", he replied as his eyes sharpened. "Just remember, things aren't always what they seem."
Betsy and Sarah watched as he walked away, and the two looked at each other, and didn't have to say a word because they were thinking the same thing, 'What just happened?"
The two walked past the old town hall with the other kids their age, past the onlookers, past the parents who came to say one more goodbye, and Sarah noticed hers weren't in the crowd.
The two finally reached the edge of the town, and where the forest began. It was a silent period of about five minutes before the horn sounded, signaling it was time. Sarah an Betsy exchanged their last hug, and began they separate ways.
Sarah walked cautiously into the dark, dead woods. Not a leaf was on a tree, nor any color or light to guide her way. The children all split up, and Sarah found herself alone.
Sarah was scared, and became petrified walking up and down the windy paths of the forest, getting lost with each step she took, and hearing the shrieking cries of her fellow friends. The ones who wouldn't come back.
Day became night, and the forest took on a life of its own. Mysterious noises came from every bush, the trees danced to a melancholy music that seemed to be made by dancing shadows, and every now and then, Sarah would catch a glimpse of a sprite, a beautiful fair blue woman, but on second glance would only see a small tree stump, or a rosebush.
Sarah was blind in the night, and relied on her other senses to walk through the narrow path she was on. She began thinking, how would she figure out the magical wonders everyone else in her village did? Or, better yet, how would she survive the
night?
With each step, she came up with a brand new scenario as to what might happen to her. The piercing cries of her friends seemed to stop. Was she the only one left? Were there any survivors? When was the forest going to kill her?
Sarah became desperate, for anything, anyone. Days turned into nights, and nights turned into days. Sarah screamed, in hope someone might hear her, and walked further and further into the dark woods. Her rations were running low, and she was parched.
She was even hallucinating now, seeing fresh green leaves every now and then on a tree. A rose in full bloom, as red as blood. Grass. And finally, all the wood around her was covered in vegetation and color.
The air smelled sweet, and the sun cast warm rays upon her face, filling her with a false hope. She knew well it was a hallucination, but decided to indulge herself.
She danced through the open fields, skipped down the smooth grass, rolled around, and completely lost it. She heard water, maybe a lake, a river, an ocean. She ran clumsily towards the sound, when suddenly fell down a steep hill into the stream of fresh water, which was cool against her sunbaked skin.
She basked in it, realizing she wasn't hallucinating. She was in a stream, and there was fresh vegetation all around her.
Sarah found herself frightened and lost again. She wasn't dead. She buried her face into the stream, and held her breath. It'd be easier to just give up now, and join the other children in the afterlife, if there was one.
She was about to let go, when a gentle nudge on her shoulder surprised her, causing her to sit up on instinct, and slap away whatever was touching her. Great. She'd die by the hands of some demon in the forest.
Joy. A bloodbath. Maybe her parents would be happier now, not having to worry about some imbecile of a child anymore.
Sarah calmly wiped the water from her eyes, simply not caring anymore. All hope was gone. There was no way she was going to survive the night, let alone the day.
"Can you help me?", Sarah asked with a dreary voice, not bothering to look up at what nudged her. She didn't have a care in the world.
If you tell me what you need help with, perhaps I might be able to." replied a deep, yet gentle voice.
Sarah looked up in disbelief, and gazed upon a white wolf. Her mind panicked, picturing the wolf engulfing her, or tricking her into an early death. She backed up, still sitting in the stream. Her legs betrayed her, and wouldn't move.
She grabbed for the nearest stick, and held it out towards the wolf. The wolf sat on the bank of the stream, and cocked its head to the side.
"You know, you ask for my help, and you suddenly change your mind?", the voice said, coming out of nowhere.
The wolf began to walk towards Sarah, and Sarah violently jerked the stick around, trying to scare the wolf away, but only caused herself to lose balance, and land face first into the stream again.
Again, she felt the gentle nudge, but this time refused to sit up. Surely, the wolf would be right there, ready to wrap its fangs around her neck.
Sarah closed her eyes, and waited for the first strike. To her surprise, she was lifted up by a pair of strong hands.
She was placed on the banks, and after coughing the water out of her lungs, looked up to see a man. He was tall, fit, and his skin was pure like porcelain. He had brown shaggy hair, and a pair of the kindest hazel eyes Sarah had ever seen. His attire was that not of a peasants.
Unlike Sarah's mud-stained hand me down white dress, this man was wearing a suit which seemed to be made out of leaves and earth. Another surprise was that the man was barefoot.
He seemed kind in appearance, odd, but young. Just about her age. His looks weren't bad, and Sarah felt her cheeks blush. Embarrassed, yet careful, Sarah became more aware of her surroundings.
Sarah, after taking in the image of this stranger, frantically looked around for the wolf, but when she saw no trace of it, turned her attention back to the man.
His head was cocked to the side, and he was staring at her. "You needed my help?", he asked.
Sarah couldn't speak, and simply nodded her head. She was suddenly conscious of herself. She was a mess. Not only was her white dress drenched in mud, but her long hair which once was straight, was wet, and began to curl. Typical peasant girl.
"My name is William.", the man said while extending his hand. Sarah grabbed it, and he pulled her up. "What's yours? Or can you not talk now?"
Sarah smiled. Finally, another human. "Sarah.", she replied. "I need to get out of here. I need to get back to the village."
"Come hither.", he said. Sarah hesitated before walking up closer to him. William smiled, and it was welcoming to Sarah, yet strange. It seemed like there was something terribly wrong about him, but she couldn't put her finger on it.
"I'm afraid I can't help you. I can't leave this little sanctuary I've built. You see Sarah, for the past four years of my life, I've... well I've imprisoned myself here, in this part of the forest, not letting anyone in... until you."
Sarah took a step back. "What do you mean?"
"I'm not... normal, Sarah. I'm not human. I'm rather useless... but you see... There's things about me, no one knows. I've created this safe haven, this clearing, to keep everyone out. No one can see it, no one can step within it, unless I let them."
"Are you going to kill me?!", Sarah exclaimed while backing up, but as she did so tripped and fell to the ground. William rushed over, and held her down. His face was so close to hers, that she could feel his breath on her skin. His grip was firm on her wrists, and again, Sarah felt a sharp pain travel down her spine.
"No! I'm not going to hurt you. Sarah, I need your help as you need mine. Please! Just listen... I'm the wo-"
"You're hurting me!", Sarah screamed as the blood began seeping through her white dress, coming from different points, as though she were just thought with 1,000 arrows.
William let go of her, and watched as Sarah began screaming and wailing. Her eyes turned black, and blood began seeping out of her eyes. She began scratching at her arms, ripping her skin off. Sarah began shaking back and forth and began to scream even louder.
The last thing Sarah remembered before she passed out, was the white wolf looking down at her. She was in the stream, and the water was cool against her flaming skin.