Book of the Dead

THE YEAR WAS 500 AD, AND MY TRIBE LIVED IN THATCH HUTS DEEP WITHIN THE RAINFOREST. WE WERE PROTECTED BY A RING OF ELDER TREES ENCIRCLING OUR VILLAGE. THE MAGIC OF THE TREES STAYED THE EVIL OF THE FOREST FROM OUR PEOPLE, OR SO WE WERE TOLD BY THE MAGI WHO RULED OVER US. ONE YEAR OUR FOOD RAN SCARCE AND IT WAS AGREED THAT ONE OF THE TRIBE MUST GO BEYOND THE ELDER TREES, INTO THE FOREST, TO HUNT. THE MAGI WANTED TO PUT IT UP TO A VOTE, BUT I SAW HIM FOR THE FALSE FACE THAT HE WAS. THERE WAS NOTHING BEYOND THOSE TREES. I VOLUNTEERED AND LEFT THE NEXT MORNING AFTER A GREAT CELEBRATION OF MY BRAVERY. A THICK FOG HAD BUILT UP IN THE FORBIDDEN WORLD AROUND WHAT MY BROTHERS AND SISTERS CALLED THE "HIMMADYN" WHICH IN YOUR WORDS MEANS SOMETHING CLOSER TO "COCOON". I HATCHED FROM MY COCOON THAT DAY, WITH FANTASIES IN MY HEAD OF TRUDGING BACK TO MY PEOPLE WITH EIGHT FAT DEER UNDER EACH ARM, ARROW QUILLS JUTTING STILL FROM THEIR HEARTS. WE WOULD FEAST UPON VENISON THAT NIGHT, SALT THE REST, AND SAVE THE BONES FOR MORE LONG TERM USE. I WOULD GIVE THEM HALF A YEAR OF LIFE, AND WHEN THE TIME CAME I WOULD VENTURE OUT ONCE MORE. I WOULD TELL THEM I AM PROTECTED WHERE ALL OTHERS ARE FORBIDDEN, OR AT LEAST THE ONES TOO AFRAID TO FIND OUT. THEY ALL THOUGHT I WAS MAD TO LEAVE THE PROTECTION OF THE "ELDER TREES" BUT SOON THEY'D THINK OF ME AS THEIR SAVIOR. I HAD ALREADY SEEN ONE OF US DIE, FARO, A YOUNG ONE. THE FIRST STARVING DEATH IN EIGHT GENERATIONS. I REMEMBER FERO'S PARENTS SCREAMING AS MY FATHER BURIED THEIR BOY. THEY WERE REACHING OUT, THEIR NECKS SWOLLEN WITH SCREAMS. ALL BECAUSE OF THIS HORRIBLE COCOON AROUND US THAT KEPT US HUNGRY, KEPT US AFRAID. THE ELDER TREES DROOPED AS I PASSED THEM, HUNCHING OVER IN A SUDDEN GUST OF WIND, REACHING OUT WITH THEIR LIMBS LIKE GRIEVING PARENTS, HOWLING IN THE WIND, AS I ENTERED THE FOG. MY FIRST DAY, I SLEW A BOAR WITH MY BOW AND ARROW. IT WAS A CLEAN KILL, PIERCING THE SKULL. I RETRIEVED MY ARROW AND CLEANED THE KILL AS I WOULD FEAST UPON IT THE NEXT DAY. I CUT A SHEATH OF MOSS AND LAID IT OVER MYSELF TO STAY WARM THROUGHOUT THE NIGHT. I WOKE UP WITH THE STARS STILL OVER ME, BUT THE BOAR WAS GONE. SOMETHING HAD SNATCHED IT CLEAN. I COULD NOT TRACK THE CULPRIT, AS THERE WERE NO PRINTS. SURELY I WOULD HAVE HEARD SOMETHING. PERHAPS THIS WAS A NEW, DIFFERENT CREATURE I WAS NOT PREPARED FOR? PERHAPS THE TREES REALLY DID KEEP SOMETHING OUT? MY SECOND DAY WAS SPENT FORGETTING SUCH SILLY THOUGHTS. I BROKE MY FAST ON TROUT FROM A NEARBY STREAM. THE WORLD OUTSIDE MY VILLAGE WAS BEAUTIFUL. ANYTHING NEW IS BEAUTIFUL AT FIRST, I SUPPOSE, EVEN IF JUST FOR A MOMENT. MY THIRD DAY WAS WHEN I BEGGED THE ELDER TREES TO FORGIVE ME. I HAD WOKEN FROM A NIGHTMARE AS THE SUN BARELY CRESTED OVER THE MOUNTAINS AHEAD. I DREAMT I WAS AN OLD MAN WATCHING MY CHILDREN DIE. THE TRUE NIGHTMARE WAS IN FACT HAUNCHED OVER ME, OOZING HOT SALIVA ONTO MY NECK. IN THE FIRST BEAM OF MORNING LIGHT I SAW IT'S FACE AND SCREAMED. IT SNARLED AND SNAPPED AT ME, FINDING ONLY DIRT AS I SCRAMBLED TO ITS BACK. THE DAGGER I KEPT BY MY SIDE WAS IN ITS NECK NOW. IT'S RED FUR BRISTLED IN ANGER AND STEAMING BLOOD POURED FROM ITS MOUTH. I SAW BLACK QUILLS SHOOT UP ACROSS ITS SPINE. THEN IT THREW ME TO THE GROUND. I RETREATED A FEW STEPS AWAY. THIS IS WHEN I FINALLY GOT A LOOK AT WHAT THE ELDER TREES HAD BEEN KEEPING OUT. OUR MAGI CALLED HIM ABADDON. THE BEAST THAT GUARDS THE GATES OF HELL. A RED HOUND WITH THE FACE OF DEATH. TWO LEATHERY WINGS FLEXED FROM ITS SHOULDERS, AND IT BEAT THEM NOW, PUTTERING AWAY, BLOOD STREAMING FROM ITS NECK AND MOUTH. I READIED MY ARROW AND LET IT FLY TRUE, PIERCING THE BEAST'S RIGHT WING. IT HOWLED, SPINNING INTO A DENSE THICKET AHEAD. I TOOK A KNEE THEN, AND BEGGED FORGIVENESS FROM THE ELDER TREES. THE BEAST WAS REAL, BUT I WOULD SLAY IT. ABADDON WAS BLEEDING TO DEATH IN A PATCH OF FLATTENED IVY, SQUEALING LIKE HE MUST HAVE WHEN HE WAS ONLY A PUP. THE SAME PANG OF GUILT CAME TO ME THEN, AS WHEN I PUT A BOAR TO ITS DEATH. THIS FIERY BEAST BEFORE ME, ITS SKIN RIPPLING WITH HEAT, WAS NO MORE THAN A RABBIT STARING THROUGH BEGGING EYES -- WHICH I HAD TO IGNORE IF I WANTED TO SAVE MY PEOPLE. I MADE SURE IT WAS DEAD, RIPPING MY BLADE FROM ITS THROAT AND GUTTING IT. I DISCONNECTED THE HEART AND PIERCED IT, AT WHICH POINT IT TURNED TO HOT ASH IN MY HAND. THAT'S WHEN I SPOTTED THE CORNER OF THE BOOK, POKING FROM THE CREATURE'S EXPOSED GUTS. I CUT THE MEMBRANE AWAY FROM IT, WATCHING THE SHAPE OF IT COME INTO RECOGNITION. WE'D HAD BOOKS IN OUR VILLAGE, BUT THIS WAS NEW. THE COVER WAS WRITTEN IN A FOREIGN LANGUAGE AND THAT WORRIED ME, BECAUSE PERHAPS I COULDN'T READ IT. UNFORTUNATELY, I FOUND THAT I COULD UNDERSTAND EVERY WORD. LOOKING AT THE FIRST PAGE, I SAW ONLY NAMES. OLD NAMES, WRITTEN IN OLD LANGUAGES. I FLIPPED FORWARD, LOOKING FOR WHERE THE STORY BEGAN. BUT IT WAS NOTHING BUT NAMES. THE ENTIRE BOOK WAS A LIST OF NAMES. I SKIPPED TO THE END, WHERE I FOUND NOTHING BUT BLANK PAGES. I FLIPPED BACK A BIT TO THE MIDDLE, WHERE I FOUND A PAGE WRITING ITSELF. STILL JUST NAMES. I STARED AT THEM, REALIZING THIS WAS THE CULMINATION OF THEIR LIVES. I WAS THE WATCHER NOW. I SAW MY NAME ON THAT PAGE, BUT THEN A NEW PAGE BEGAN AS IF I HAD BEEN SKIPPED. IT WAS NOT UNTIL EIGHTY YEARS LATER WHEN I SAW MY CHILDRENS' NAMES IN THE BOOK THAT I REALIZED MY NIGHTMARE HAD ONLY BEGUN. THOUSANDS OF YEARS PASSED ME BY AS I READ THE BOOK OF THE DEAD. I COULD NOT PULL MYSELF AWAY. I HAD TO KNOW EVERY NAME, EVERY STORY. I DID NOT EAT, YET I NEVER STARVED. I DID NOT SLEEP. I ONLY WATCHED THE NAMES FILL THE PAGE. ONCE A PAGE WAS FINISHED, A GUST OF WIND WOULD FLIP TO THE NEXT ONE, AND THE WRITING WOULD RESUME. IT NEVER ENDED. EACH NAME HAD A STORY. EACH ENTRY REQUIRED AN AUDIENCE. WILD VINES GREW AROUND MY BODY. NO MATTER HOW MUCH I WISHED FOR THE BOOK TO REACH ITS END, IT WAS ALWAYS ONLY HALFWAY FINISHED. I THOUGHT OF HOW MY NAME WAS SKIPPED, AND THAT IT MEANT THAT THIS WAS MY CALLING. I CREATED STORIES IN MY HEAD FROM THE NAMES I SAW. I IMAGINED STRANGE LIVES FOR THEM, WONDERING HOW THEY FOUND THEIR WAY TO MY BOOK. THIS ONE WAS STUNG BY A METAL BIRD, THIS ONE WAS HIT WITH AN ARROW WHILE THANKING THE ONES WHO NAMED HIM KING. BUT IT WASN'T AN ARROW, IT WAS SOMETHING ELSE. I GOT FEELINGS SOMETIMES FROM THE NAMES I READ, AND I KNEW THAT SOMETHING HAD REPLACED THE ARROW. THE PAGES HAD FILLED FASTER EVER SINCE IT WAS DISCOVERED. ONE DAY, I SAW THE ELDER TREES AGAIN. THEY WERE CHOPPED TO PIECES IN THE BACK OF A STEEL WAGON. AND IT FELT THE SAME AS WHEN I DIDN'T BELIEVE IN MAGIC, BECAUSE THEY WERE DEAD NOW. THOUSANDS OF YEARS OF PROTECTION ENDED BY MEN WITH SCREAMING HATCHETS. THESE SPIRITS GUARDED MEN AND WERE THANKED WITH DEATH. OF ALL THE DEATH I'D SEEN; MY FAMILY, MY FRIENDS, MY CHILDREN -- THIS WAS THE FIRST TO MAKE ME FINALLY WEEP. BUT THAT STILL CANNOT FORGIVE ME FOR WHAT I DID NEXT. I COULD SEE HIS NAME IN THE BOOK. IT WAS "JAVIAR". HE CAME TO ME WEARING STRANGE ARMOR. A BRIGHT YELLOW HELMET AND GLOWING VEST. HE SAW ME SOMEHOW BENEATH THE ROOTS AND THE VINES THAT HAD ENTOMBED ME, COCOONED ME. HE CLEARED THEM AWAY AND ASKED IF I WAS ALRIGHT. HE CARRIED ONE OF THE SCREAMING HATCHETS THAT HAD KILLED THE ELDER TREES. I SIMPLY HANDED HIM THE BOOK, AND NOW I AM FREE.﻿
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