Always Rising

It started in the woods. The soft needles of the pine trees lathered the forest floor like a plush carpet. Old tree limbs and bushes piled under the untouched trees. With terrain unforgiving to those that walk it, these woods provide a barrier between the harsh mountains and distant meadows. It was here in the dense wilderness of Wickerwoods that it lurked. But for now it stood on the edge of the treeline.

It was only a few yards away from the house. The young boy who noticed it squinted at what he saw, uncertain if his mind was playing tricks on him. Just under the harsh shade of the canopy was the dark hood of a cloak. Leading down from it was a delicate snow white hand reaching out of the cloth and pointing upwards towards the sky.

The boy's hands remained gripped on the window seal for a moment before he let go and ran to his family. Again his fearful cries could be heard through the halls of the home. The memory of that figure lingering in his mind as he tried to sleep each night. It wasn't until the fourth night that he heard it when everyone else was asleep. There was a gnawing at the wooden frames of his room. One of a ravenous hunger, constantly grinding its teeth down at just another shred of the home. Like that of a starving dog desperately trying to chew through the bone of a prey with no meat left.

It was the eighth night that the gnawing stopped. The boy had just gotten used to the sound. The silence now being what kept him up even longer. It seemed like hours until it whispered from inside the walls. Its voice was raspy and painful like it hadn't had a drink of water in years. Yet he couldn't make out the words. He could tell it was a calling. The thing beckoned for him to come out of hiding. It continuously repeated along with false senses of comfort. But in fear he stayed under his covers with only a small hole in his blanket to watch the window curtains.

Then there was a hint of warm light barely touching the top of his curtains. The fist light of morning brought yet another silence as the creature gave up. The boy remained in fear in his bed as the sun rose. His room flooded with bright light as it climbed to noon. But in fear he remained quiet, even as he heard the sirens and car doors outside. Even as his bedroom door was broken down. Even as the police questioned him. It was only a year later that he was mocked for believing an angel had taken his family. And yet the sun always still rises.