Topic 30(F): Disappear
Jun. 18th, 2012 05:01 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
java_fiendAnd finally... #6 of 6
“The crops are not looking good,” he heard Elder Morton say. “And the hunters come back with less and less meat every day. I don’t know how we will feed the colony.”
“Nor supply ourselves for the coming winter,” his father, Thomas Granville replied.
Elias Granville worked in the field while eavesdropping on his father and the Elder Morton. It had been a little more than a year since Governor White had returned to England to explain their situation and to beg for help from the Crown. The Elders had been charged by the Governor to maintain the colony in his absence and he knew that his father was worried.
“I would not expect much help from the Queen,” said Elder Morton. “Her hands are still full with the Spanish.”
His father held up a dry, withered carrot before tossing it to the ground in disgust. “Damn it all,” he spat. “How is Roanoke supposed to flourish when the Crown refuses our pleas for assistance?”
Elias looked out at the other colonists laboring in the field. The sun beat down hot and the air was thick with humidity. It was true that the fields were producing poor crops and that there was increasingly little meat to go around. Plus there were the savages on the island who were growing more aggressive and hostile to contend with. Just two days past, they’d discovered the body of John Hitchens in the forest. It looked like he’d been mutilated by the savages.
“If Governor White doesn’t return and bring relief soon,” his father said. “I do not know what will become of us.”
His father wasn’t one to worry unnecessarily which led Elias to worry that much more. Movement at the edge of the treeline drew his attention. Fearing that the savages were attacking, he tightened his grip on the shovel he was holding. Out of the forest stepped an odd looking man. His hair was startlingly white and he was clearly older than his father and Elder Morton. His skin was pale like theirs but he was dressed in animal skins that seemed to be customary among the savages. Everybody in the field watched him as he approached Elias’ father and Elder Morton.
“Good afternoon to you,” the man called out and held his hands up, perhaps to show that he carried no weapons.
Strangers in Roanoke were relatively unheard of and work in the field stopped as everybody put down their tools and stared. A palpable sense of tension hung over the field, thick like the humidity of the day. Dressed as he was, Elias thought that most people feared an impending attack by the savages.
“Please, everybody,” his father called out. “All is well. Attend to your labors.”
Slowly, work in the field resumed though everybody appeared to be keeping a wary eye on the newcomer. Elias continued digging the trench he’d been working on but glanced up and caught his father’s eye. His father gave a brief smile, knowing his was listening in but said nothing and allowed him to stay where he was.
“Seems like you are having a bit of trouble out here,” said the stranger, his voice smooth and cultured; a distinct contrast to his apppearance.
“Nothing grows in this damnable ground,” said Elder Morton.
His father motioned for Elder Morton to be quiet. “Might I ask your name, sir?”
“Crowaton,” he replied. “The name is Charles Crowaton.”
“Crowaton,” Elder Morton replied and Elias’ father shot him a glance. “What manner of name is that?”
The man shrugged. “My parents said we descended from Spanish heritage but I never delved too deeply into it.”
“How may we be of assistance to you, Mr. Crowaton?” His father asked.
“Actually,” he said. “I believe that I may be of assistance to you.”
Elias’ father cut off Elder Morton as he opened his mouth to speak with a glance. Though Roanoke was controlled by the Council of Elders in Governor White’s absence, Elias’ father carried the most weight and was widely considered the de facto Governor.
“And how might that be?” His father asked.
“I can see that you’re having trouble getting your crops to grow,” the stranger motioned to the pitiful carrot lying on the ground. “And feeding your people. It could be a long, hard winter for your people.”
“And I take it you have some solutions?”
“I just might,” he replied. “Is there somewhere we can speak in private? Somewhere I can get off my feet and enjoy a nice glass of wine perhaps?”
Elias’ father considered for a moment. “Indeed,” he said. “Please, follow me to my home.”
Elias waited until Elder Morton, the stranger and his father were out of sight before dropping his shovel and running for the house. He wasn’t about to miss what was said. He circled around, taking care to remain unseen by his father and Elder Morton. He approached the house from the forest and quietly wriggled beneath it. He only caught glimpses of the men through the spaces between the floorboards but their voices drifted down to him allowing Elias to hear everything.
“Thank you for the wine, Governor,” the stranger said.
“Actually,” his father replied. “I’m merely part of the Council overseeing the day to day functioning of Roanoke. The Governor is abroad but will be returning soon.”
“Indeed,” Crowaton replied. “It’s only been a year but hopefully when and if he returns, he will bring with him, some much needed relief for you folks.”
“And just how is it you come to know so much about us?” Elder Morton asked.
“It is my business to know things,” Crowaton replied.
His father remained silent but Elias could hear him pacing the room, his bootsteps sending small clouds of dust raining down on him.
“You said you could offer us assistance with our crops?” His father finally asked.
“Aye,” the man said. “I believe I can. Though it is not without a price.”
Elias heard Elder Morton chuff. “And what is your price?”
“It is not much really,” he replied. “Not for being able to save all of your people.”
“Then name your price,” his father said, his voice stern.
“In payment for helping you to feed and sustain your people,” he said. “I require one child of my choosing.”
Silence descended over the room above him and Elias held his breath, not believing what he was hearing.
“Surely, you cannot be serious, sir,” his father said.
“Unfortunately for you, I am,” he replied. “Isn’t one child worth the lives of all within your colony? For I guarantee you, if you don’t get crops in the ground soon and then get them harvested, all of you will die out here once winter sets in.”
“And how exactly do you propose to help us grow our crops?” Asked Elder Morton.
Elias heard what sounded like stones being poured out on the table. Another long silence ensued and he wished he could see what they were seeing.
“Stones, sir?” His father asked. “Your solution is these stones?”
Peering through the floorboards, Elias saw that man shrug and a smile spread across his face.
“Please, do not take my word for it,” he said. “Scatter these stones about your fields. In one year’s time, I shall return and if your people are well-fed, I will exact my price. If they fail, I will not.”
“What sort of devilry is this?” Asked Elder Morton.
The man shrugged again. “The sort of devilry that will ensure the survival of your people.”
“Thank you for speaking with us today,” Elias’ father said.
Elias watched Crowaton stand up from the table and froze when he looked down, locking eyes with him like he knew he’d been there all along. A slow, predatory smile spread across his face.
“All signs point to this being a very difficult winter,” Crowaton broke his eye contact with Elias. “Think about my offer. One child for the survival of your entire colony.”
Elias waited beneath the house, watched the stranger’s feet descend the steps and walk back the way he’d come without pausing. His father and Elder Morton spoke few words and soon followed. It was clear to Elias that they had no intention of using whatever the stranger had left inside the house. When they’d gone, he wriggled out from beneath the house, dusted himself off and stepped inside. On the table was a leather bag filled with smooth, polished black stones. He thought about all he’d heard, thought about the lean, gaunt faces of the people in Roanoke and about the coming winter. Surely his father would want to exhaust every resource available to keep everybody alive. Elias snatched up the bag, gathered the stones that had been poured out and headed back to the fields. Devilry or not, if it worked and saved the lives of their people, it would be worth it and he would be a hero.
*******
It had been a year since Elias had scattered the stones about the fields. And it had been a year since his father had tanned his hide for it. The people of Roanoke had survived a particularly harsh winter and had in fact, flourished. Their crops had never been better nor the game more plentiful. Through those dark, cold months, the people had eaten and had eaten well. Though his father grew more tense as the day neared when the stranger would appear to exact his price, Elias felt a sense of pride knowing that he had helped save the colony. One child was worth the lives of everybody in Roanoke.
The dark velvety hues of dusk descended upon them bringing another day in the fields to a close. His father and Elder Morton stood nearby engaged in an animated discussion that he could not hear. They abruptly stalked off, both men looking angry. Elias finished what he was doing before following his father back to the house. As he approached, a gnawing pit of fear opened up within him. Standing on the porch with his father was the stranger. Elias realized that part of him never expected this day to come, never anticipated seeing Crowaton again. His father noticed him and with a grim face, motioned him to step up on the porch.
“You know why Mr. Crowaton is here,” his father said. Not a question. “You ensured that he would come back to exact his price.”
Elias lifted his chin defiantly, silently wondering which of Roanoke’s children would be forced to leave with the stranger.
“I did,” Elias said. “I ensured that our people would survive.”
“Bold words when it’s somebody else’s child you are sending away, son.”
Crowaton said nothing, a smug smile on his face. For months, Elias had thought long and hard about this day and what he would say if the man turned up.
“How are we to know,” Elias said. “That the stones Mr. Crowaton left behind are the reason our crops flourished? We had a little more rain than normal. Perhaps that is the cause.”
“It is irrelevant,” Crowaton finally spoke. “You used the stones and I am here to collect what was promised to me.”
“Mr. Crowaton,” Elias’ father started. “Perhaps there is another accommodation we can come to. My son acted rashly. He is but a boy.”
“It is your son who I mean to have,” Crowaton said firmly. “That is my price.”
Elias felt his heart pounding as the pit in his stomach opened wide, threatening to swallow him whole. His father closed his eyes and sighed and a strained silence spread out between them.
“I am afraid that is unacceptable,” his father finally replied. “His mother didn’t survive childbirth and he is all that I have. We can make amends to you in some other fashion.”
“No,” Crowaton replied simply. “You knew my price and I mean to take payment.”
“I refuse,” Elias said, his voice shaking. “I will not go with you.”
Word of what was unfolding spread and a crowd began to gather around, the men of Roanoke standing with their axes and knives at the ready.
“Are you sure that is your answer?” Crowaton asked. “You won’t reconsider?”
“My son answered your question,” his father said. “Now, unless you are willing to accept another form of recompense, I ask you to leave.”
A sinister look stretched across the man’s face and his eyes glowed an angry red. Unearthly shrieks sounded from the forest around them, echoing through the night air.
“I will have what was promised to me,” Crowaton screamed.
With an inhuman speed, Crowaton’s hand shot out and into Elias’ father’s chest. When he drew it back, Elias saw his father’s heart clutched between his fingers. Blood and gore dribbled down his arm, pouring onto the wooden flooring beneath them. Elias’ father stood statue-still for a moment, a look of surprise on his face before his body crumpled to the ground. The sound of his father’s body hitting the floor seemed to shake the paralysis that held the colonists. Elias was dimly aware of somebody screaming followed by the sound of people running everywhere and shouting in pain. He was transfixed by the sight of his father’s heart in Crowaton’s hand. The stranger smiled wickedly and brought his father’s heart to his lips, tearing a large mouthful of it free. His face covered in gore made him seem impossibly evil.
As if in a dream, Elias turned to see dark, winged creatures with glowing red eyes streaming out of the forest, swooping down and tearing the colonists of Roanoke to pieces. He watched little Abigail Folnier torn in half by two of the dark creatures, watched her blood and entrails spill onto the dirt, watched them begin to consume her. He saw the head of Elder Morton rolling along the street, being kicked by the panicked and running colonists. He turned once more to see Crowaton eating his father’s heart, hearing the wet sound of him tearing the meat and smacking his lips. Dazed, he walked down the steps and into the madness. The dark, winged creatures were everywhere, killing and eating the people of Roanoke. And it was his fault.
“Elias.”
He looked into the face of Elizabeth Lane, a friend of his father’s and a member of the Council of Elders. Everything seemed like it was happening in slow motion. He watched her reach out, felt her shake him but his head still spun. He watched her reach her hand back and slap him. A sharp sting in his cheek brought his eyes back into focus and a second seemed to wake his mind up as he ascended through the fog.
“Elias,” she screamed as tears streamed down her face. “Run. Get out of here!”
Her slaps had brought him back to the present, to the scene of so many dying horrible deaths. She looked in his eyes, ready to slap him once more if needed. He opened his mouth to say something to her when she was abruptly jerked away from him, one of the dark creatures pulling her away. Elias screamed when he watched it rip her head from her body, a fount of blood spraying into the evening air. He turned and ran, heedless of where he was going, intent on putting the sights and sounds of the slaughter behind him.
He’d made it as far as the edge of the forest when the ground beneath him began to shake violently, knocking him to his knees. Elias hid behind a tree, peeking out from around it and watched in equal parts fascination and horror as all of the houses and buildings of Roanoke began to descend into the earth. The dark, winged creatures snatched up the people who still lived and vanished with them into the forest. He watched until the very last of the buildings and bodies had disappeared from sight leaving no trace that they’d ever been there. A lone figure stood silent and still on the ground where Roanoke, his home, had once been; the ground where nothing but the rickety wooden fence that surrounded the village remained. It was Crowaton.
“You should have paid the price I asked. You should have given me what I wanted.”
His voice was soft, almost regretful. Tears streamed down Elias’ face as he took his knife off of his belt and started to carve into the tree. Perhaps with his last breath, he would be able to give some explanation or perhaps a warning to anybody who tried to settle on this god-forsaken land.
When he was finished, Elias turned and stared directly into the face of the stranger, a horde of dark figures with glowing red eyes behind him.
“Shall we go?”
Elias gave one last look to what he’d carved into the tree. It would have to be good enough.
It read simply Croatoan.
This has been my entry for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
therealljidol Season 8, Topic 30(F): "Disappear". As always, thank you so much for your support over these very long weeks of competition. We're starting to wind things down so the heat is really ratcheting up and your support means more than ever. Thank you guys so much for reading (and continuing to read) all of this stuff I'm pouring out. It is very much appreciated, folks. Seriously. Who knows if there is going to be a poll but if there is, don't forget to swing on by, read some of the other fantastic pieces and spread a little voting-love around!
“The crops are not looking good,” he heard Elder Morton say. “And the hunters come back with less and less meat every day. I don’t know how we will feed the colony.”
“Nor supply ourselves for the coming winter,” his father, Thomas Granville replied.
Elias Granville worked in the field while eavesdropping on his father and the Elder Morton. It had been a little more than a year since Governor White had returned to England to explain their situation and to beg for help from the Crown. The Elders had been charged by the Governor to maintain the colony in his absence and he knew that his father was worried.
“I would not expect much help from the Queen,” said Elder Morton. “Her hands are still full with the Spanish.”
His father held up a dry, withered carrot before tossing it to the ground in disgust. “Damn it all,” he spat. “How is Roanoke supposed to flourish when the Crown refuses our pleas for assistance?”
Elias looked out at the other colonists laboring in the field. The sun beat down hot and the air was thick with humidity. It was true that the fields were producing poor crops and that there was increasingly little meat to go around. Plus there were the savages on the island who were growing more aggressive and hostile to contend with. Just two days past, they’d discovered the body of John Hitchens in the forest. It looked like he’d been mutilated by the savages.
“If Governor White doesn’t return and bring relief soon,” his father said. “I do not know what will become of us.”
His father wasn’t one to worry unnecessarily which led Elias to worry that much more. Movement at the edge of the treeline drew his attention. Fearing that the savages were attacking, he tightened his grip on the shovel he was holding. Out of the forest stepped an odd looking man. His hair was startlingly white and he was clearly older than his father and Elder Morton. His skin was pale like theirs but he was dressed in animal skins that seemed to be customary among the savages. Everybody in the field watched him as he approached Elias’ father and Elder Morton.
“Good afternoon to you,” the man called out and held his hands up, perhaps to show that he carried no weapons.
Strangers in Roanoke were relatively unheard of and work in the field stopped as everybody put down their tools and stared. A palpable sense of tension hung over the field, thick like the humidity of the day. Dressed as he was, Elias thought that most people feared an impending attack by the savages.
“Please, everybody,” his father called out. “All is well. Attend to your labors.”
Slowly, work in the field resumed though everybody appeared to be keeping a wary eye on the newcomer. Elias continued digging the trench he’d been working on but glanced up and caught his father’s eye. His father gave a brief smile, knowing his was listening in but said nothing and allowed him to stay where he was.
“Seems like you are having a bit of trouble out here,” said the stranger, his voice smooth and cultured; a distinct contrast to his apppearance.
“Nothing grows in this damnable ground,” said Elder Morton.
His father motioned for Elder Morton to be quiet. “Might I ask your name, sir?”
“Crowaton,” he replied. “The name is Charles Crowaton.”
“Crowaton,” Elder Morton replied and Elias’ father shot him a glance. “What manner of name is that?”
The man shrugged. “My parents said we descended from Spanish heritage but I never delved too deeply into it.”
“How may we be of assistance to you, Mr. Crowaton?” His father asked.
“Actually,” he said. “I believe that I may be of assistance to you.”
Elias’ father cut off Elder Morton as he opened his mouth to speak with a glance. Though Roanoke was controlled by the Council of Elders in Governor White’s absence, Elias’ father carried the most weight and was widely considered the de facto Governor.
“And how might that be?” His father asked.
“I can see that you’re having trouble getting your crops to grow,” the stranger motioned to the pitiful carrot lying on the ground. “And feeding your people. It could be a long, hard winter for your people.”
“And I take it you have some solutions?”
“I just might,” he replied. “Is there somewhere we can speak in private? Somewhere I can get off my feet and enjoy a nice glass of wine perhaps?”
Elias’ father considered for a moment. “Indeed,” he said. “Please, follow me to my home.”
Elias waited until Elder Morton, the stranger and his father were out of sight before dropping his shovel and running for the house. He wasn’t about to miss what was said. He circled around, taking care to remain unseen by his father and Elder Morton. He approached the house from the forest and quietly wriggled beneath it. He only caught glimpses of the men through the spaces between the floorboards but their voices drifted down to him allowing Elias to hear everything.
“Thank you for the wine, Governor,” the stranger said.
“Actually,” his father replied. “I’m merely part of the Council overseeing the day to day functioning of Roanoke. The Governor is abroad but will be returning soon.”
“Indeed,” Crowaton replied. “It’s only been a year but hopefully when and if he returns, he will bring with him, some much needed relief for you folks.”
“And just how is it you come to know so much about us?” Elder Morton asked.
“It is my business to know things,” Crowaton replied.
His father remained silent but Elias could hear him pacing the room, his bootsteps sending small clouds of dust raining down on him.
“You said you could offer us assistance with our crops?” His father finally asked.
“Aye,” the man said. “I believe I can. Though it is not without a price.”
Elias heard Elder Morton chuff. “And what is your price?”
“It is not much really,” he replied. “Not for being able to save all of your people.”
“Then name your price,” his father said, his voice stern.
“In payment for helping you to feed and sustain your people,” he said. “I require one child of my choosing.”
Silence descended over the room above him and Elias held his breath, not believing what he was hearing.
“Surely, you cannot be serious, sir,” his father said.
“Unfortunately for you, I am,” he replied. “Isn’t one child worth the lives of all within your colony? For I guarantee you, if you don’t get crops in the ground soon and then get them harvested, all of you will die out here once winter sets in.”
“And how exactly do you propose to help us grow our crops?” Asked Elder Morton.
Elias heard what sounded like stones being poured out on the table. Another long silence ensued and he wished he could see what they were seeing.
“Stones, sir?” His father asked. “Your solution is these stones?”
Peering through the floorboards, Elias saw that man shrug and a smile spread across his face.
“Please, do not take my word for it,” he said. “Scatter these stones about your fields. In one year’s time, I shall return and if your people are well-fed, I will exact my price. If they fail, I will not.”
“What sort of devilry is this?” Asked Elder Morton.
The man shrugged again. “The sort of devilry that will ensure the survival of your people.”
“Thank you for speaking with us today,” Elias’ father said.
Elias watched Crowaton stand up from the table and froze when he looked down, locking eyes with him like he knew he’d been there all along. A slow, predatory smile spread across his face.
“All signs point to this being a very difficult winter,” Crowaton broke his eye contact with Elias. “Think about my offer. One child for the survival of your entire colony.”
Elias waited beneath the house, watched the stranger’s feet descend the steps and walk back the way he’d come without pausing. His father and Elder Morton spoke few words and soon followed. It was clear to Elias that they had no intention of using whatever the stranger had left inside the house. When they’d gone, he wriggled out from beneath the house, dusted himself off and stepped inside. On the table was a leather bag filled with smooth, polished black stones. He thought about all he’d heard, thought about the lean, gaunt faces of the people in Roanoke and about the coming winter. Surely his father would want to exhaust every resource available to keep everybody alive. Elias snatched up the bag, gathered the stones that had been poured out and headed back to the fields. Devilry or not, if it worked and saved the lives of their people, it would be worth it and he would be a hero.
It had been a year since Elias had scattered the stones about the fields. And it had been a year since his father had tanned his hide for it. The people of Roanoke had survived a particularly harsh winter and had in fact, flourished. Their crops had never been better nor the game more plentiful. Through those dark, cold months, the people had eaten and had eaten well. Though his father grew more tense as the day neared when the stranger would appear to exact his price, Elias felt a sense of pride knowing that he had helped save the colony. One child was worth the lives of everybody in Roanoke.
The dark velvety hues of dusk descended upon them bringing another day in the fields to a close. His father and Elder Morton stood nearby engaged in an animated discussion that he could not hear. They abruptly stalked off, both men looking angry. Elias finished what he was doing before following his father back to the house. As he approached, a gnawing pit of fear opened up within him. Standing on the porch with his father was the stranger. Elias realized that part of him never expected this day to come, never anticipated seeing Crowaton again. His father noticed him and with a grim face, motioned him to step up on the porch.
“You know why Mr. Crowaton is here,” his father said. Not a question. “You ensured that he would come back to exact his price.”
Elias lifted his chin defiantly, silently wondering which of Roanoke’s children would be forced to leave with the stranger.
“I did,” Elias said. “I ensured that our people would survive.”
“Bold words when it’s somebody else’s child you are sending away, son.”
Crowaton said nothing, a smug smile on his face. For months, Elias had thought long and hard about this day and what he would say if the man turned up.
“How are we to know,” Elias said. “That the stones Mr. Crowaton left behind are the reason our crops flourished? We had a little more rain than normal. Perhaps that is the cause.”
“It is irrelevant,” Crowaton finally spoke. “You used the stones and I am here to collect what was promised to me.”
“Mr. Crowaton,” Elias’ father started. “Perhaps there is another accommodation we can come to. My son acted rashly. He is but a boy.”
“It is your son who I mean to have,” Crowaton said firmly. “That is my price.”
Elias felt his heart pounding as the pit in his stomach opened wide, threatening to swallow him whole. His father closed his eyes and sighed and a strained silence spread out between them.
“I am afraid that is unacceptable,” his father finally replied. “His mother didn’t survive childbirth and he is all that I have. We can make amends to you in some other fashion.”
“No,” Crowaton replied simply. “You knew my price and I mean to take payment.”
“I refuse,” Elias said, his voice shaking. “I will not go with you.”
Word of what was unfolding spread and a crowd began to gather around, the men of Roanoke standing with their axes and knives at the ready.
“Are you sure that is your answer?” Crowaton asked. “You won’t reconsider?”
“My son answered your question,” his father said. “Now, unless you are willing to accept another form of recompense, I ask you to leave.”
A sinister look stretched across the man’s face and his eyes glowed an angry red. Unearthly shrieks sounded from the forest around them, echoing through the night air.
“I will have what was promised to me,” Crowaton screamed.
With an inhuman speed, Crowaton’s hand shot out and into Elias’ father’s chest. When he drew it back, Elias saw his father’s heart clutched between his fingers. Blood and gore dribbled down his arm, pouring onto the wooden flooring beneath them. Elias’ father stood statue-still for a moment, a look of surprise on his face before his body crumpled to the ground. The sound of his father’s body hitting the floor seemed to shake the paralysis that held the colonists. Elias was dimly aware of somebody screaming followed by the sound of people running everywhere and shouting in pain. He was transfixed by the sight of his father’s heart in Crowaton’s hand. The stranger smiled wickedly and brought his father’s heart to his lips, tearing a large mouthful of it free. His face covered in gore made him seem impossibly evil.
As if in a dream, Elias turned to see dark, winged creatures with glowing red eyes streaming out of the forest, swooping down and tearing the colonists of Roanoke to pieces. He watched little Abigail Folnier torn in half by two of the dark creatures, watched her blood and entrails spill onto the dirt, watched them begin to consume her. He saw the head of Elder Morton rolling along the street, being kicked by the panicked and running colonists. He turned once more to see Crowaton eating his father’s heart, hearing the wet sound of him tearing the meat and smacking his lips. Dazed, he walked down the steps and into the madness. The dark, winged creatures were everywhere, killing and eating the people of Roanoke. And it was his fault.
“Elias.”
He looked into the face of Elizabeth Lane, a friend of his father’s and a member of the Council of Elders. Everything seemed like it was happening in slow motion. He watched her reach out, felt her shake him but his head still spun. He watched her reach her hand back and slap him. A sharp sting in his cheek brought his eyes back into focus and a second seemed to wake his mind up as he ascended through the fog.
“Elias,” she screamed as tears streamed down her face. “Run. Get out of here!”
Her slaps had brought him back to the present, to the scene of so many dying horrible deaths. She looked in his eyes, ready to slap him once more if needed. He opened his mouth to say something to her when she was abruptly jerked away from him, one of the dark creatures pulling her away. Elias screamed when he watched it rip her head from her body, a fount of blood spraying into the evening air. He turned and ran, heedless of where he was going, intent on putting the sights and sounds of the slaughter behind him.
He’d made it as far as the edge of the forest when the ground beneath him began to shake violently, knocking him to his knees. Elias hid behind a tree, peeking out from around it and watched in equal parts fascination and horror as all of the houses and buildings of Roanoke began to descend into the earth. The dark, winged creatures snatched up the people who still lived and vanished with them into the forest. He watched until the very last of the buildings and bodies had disappeared from sight leaving no trace that they’d ever been there. A lone figure stood silent and still on the ground where Roanoke, his home, had once been; the ground where nothing but the rickety wooden fence that surrounded the village remained. It was Crowaton.
“You should have paid the price I asked. You should have given me what I wanted.”
His voice was soft, almost regretful. Tears streamed down Elias’ face as he took his knife off of his belt and started to carve into the tree. Perhaps with his last breath, he would be able to give some explanation or perhaps a warning to anybody who tried to settle on this god-forsaken land.
When he was finished, Elias turned and stared directly into the face of the stranger, a horde of dark figures with glowing red eyes behind him.
“Shall we go?”
Elias gave one last look to what he’d carved into the tree. It would have to be good enough.
It read simply Croatoan.
This has been my entry for
therealljidol Season 8, Topic 30(F): "Disappear". As always, thank you so much for your support over these very long weeks of competition. We're starting to wind things down so the heat is really ratcheting up and your support means more than ever. Thank you guys so much for reading (and continuing to read) all of this stuff I'm pouring out. It is very much appreciated, folks. Seriously. Who knows if there is going to be a poll but if there is, don't forget to swing on by, read some of the other fantastic pieces and spread a little voting-love around!
