begin: here
remember, this is still WIP

The trees creaked as if the moon itself rolled on top of them. The sky was still bright enough but caught amber on the west side. The silence was accompanying a sense of dread and heaviness on my chest. “We should hurry,” I told Frank. No birds chirped, no animal rustled the leaves. The longer we had our feet on the trail, the quieter the forest got.

Ennoia and Meme were far ahead. I barely felt them, as if they ran to the other side of the county. Frank was right behind me, his hand pressed at his side. His breathing sounded muffled. His mind was somewhere else, floating, surrounded by a dark fog.

The skin on my nape burned, my fingertips tingled. This was wrong. “Frank?” I asked. I felt the muscle on my back stiffen as if my body braced for impact. “Frank?” No answer. The man behind me felt like an angry puppet, all hollow and hot on the inside. I turned to him and made him stop. “Snap out of it!” He looked at me, as if I talked Chinese. “Did you bring a knife with you?”  If he brought a nameless blade… This was dangerous. He would try to kill me. “Take that knife already out. I know you want to.”

Frank was far away, his mind struggling to focus, eyes blankly staring ahead. It took him a while to process what I just said, but he did what I asked for. He looked down to his right hand, sliding the knife out of its holster. It was a hunting knife. The gleaming steel seemed brighter than usual. He trembled and tried to speak, but couldn’t. “Now you are going to name that blade.” His brows knitted. “Just do it. Give it a name. Now.”

It took an eternity, and I was about to brace myself for an attack, but he spoke. “Ma-Margo. The name is Margo.” He stuttered.

As if a weight had lifted from his shoulders and back, he breathed freely. His eyes cleared and the dark fog left him. “Better now?” I asked. He nodded.

“How? How did you know?” I tried to smile at him. “This was so weird. I could only think of…” His voice trailed off. Better he did not know, that I felt his bloodlust. I knew how badly he wanted to use that knife on me.

“Of murder?” I completed his sentence. His pale face shone with confusion. He nodded slowly. It wasn’t his fault, really. I smiled peacefully. Frank’s troubled expression stayed. “Never enter a forest with a nameless knife, or it will turn on you.” He looked hard at the cold blade, realizing how close he had been to give in, and follow its call. “Don’t fret. You wouldn’t be the first one.” I shrugged and turned to go, but he grabbed my shoulder.

“I’m sorry.“ His grip was warm, he truly meant it.

“It’s this unforgiving place. Just be careful. Don’t lose yourself. I’d hate to kill you,” I said. *

3 thoughts on “DEVIL’S PEAK (2)

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