The Curse of Spring

The old man blew, fogging the glass. White sparks drifted to the dark clouds above as a bright blue flame fluttered to life. The man gently closed the lantern. He hung the light upon its tall iron pole, reaching behind him to stroke the smooth wood of a leg. The leg belonged to a two-foot tall oaken puppet strapped to the man’s back. “Spring has indeed come again,” the old man muttered over his shoulder. The puppet just stared with hollow eyes. I am not ready to do this again. The old man sighed and walked further into the shadowy trees. Why me? “Why me, Herbert?” he asked the puppet. The puppet only responded with a carved smile. “You make a poor conversationalist. Silent in grief.” He gazed into the cotton wood trees. “Like me.” A twig snap. The man froze, muscles tense. Don’t run, don’t run. He slowly reached down, yanking a box of matches from his pocket. He unsheathed one of them and struck it. Flickering light illumined his face as he tore about his pocket. He ripped a candle forth and held the match close to it. The candle flared up in a brilliant blue. He crouched there, eyes searching the surrounding shadows. Rustling in the bushes. Hold your ground. He gripped the leg of the wooden puppet. Hold your ground. A figure burst from the foliage. “Begone, shadow!” The man quavered. A small boy cried out, running back into the bushes. The old man slowly lowered the candle. He gazed dumb after where the boy disappeared. He shook himself. After him, man, after him! He needs your help, why the rot is he out here… Wait, wait, the candle! The man hastily snuffed the candle, stuffed it into his pocket and raced after the boy. “Here lad, here! I won’t hurt you!” Even with his age, the man knew he could catch up with the kid. There! The speeding shape! “You, lad! Get back here!” The man quickened his pace, struggling to avoid the tree roots. The boy spun around. “I have a carrot!” he cried. “I know you fear it!” The man stopped, inches away from a small lumpy object held out by the boy. He nearly laughed. “I mean you no harm, lad! Put away your carrot.” “Tell me you aren’t a Lost One!” “A what?” “Say it!” The boy fidgeted, legs braced to run. “I’m not a Lost One. There. Where are your parents?” The boy breathed out slowly, lowering the strange root. “I don’t know.” “Are you lost?” Dhachaid is over thirty stones away. How is he out here? “Probably.” The boy shrugged. “Are you my grandfather?” “What?” “My grandfather lives somewhere out here.” “He does not. I live out here. Me, and other things.” The old man glanced about. “There is something coming, lad. Something dangerous. I have lanterns that can protect against it, but I still need to light one. You stay with me until I do, then we will go back to my cabin. There we can figure things out.” “Are you sure you aren’t my grandfather?” The boy gazed suspiciously into the man’s face. His eyes flicked to the side and widened. “Why do you have a creepy doll?” The man followed the boy’s eyes to the puppet. “He isn’t creepy and he isn’t a doll,” he snapped. “He’s Herbert. Come on, we need to get moving.” The man took the boy’s hand and began walking. “Yes Grandfather.” “Lad, I sincerely doubt I am your grandfather.” “Then why are you holding my hand?” The man thought about it, then released the boy’s hand. “Just stick with me. Something evil is coming. Also rain.” “What is coming?” The old man shuddered. “The Curse of Spring. Come, we need to hurry.” It will take at least ten minutes to reach the next lantern. They walked in silence for a good ways, before at last the man stopped at the sight of a twisted tree stump. We’ve gone too far to the side. He turned to the right, then stopped short. A dead deer lay at his feet, a hand shaped welt impressing its face. Heart pounding, he bent down to the ground. He placed his hand upon the still body before him. Cold as ice. “What happened to it?” asked the boy, voice quavering. “We need to hurry.” The man grabbed the boy’s hand and began running. The slaughter has already begun. “What is going on?” “We need to get to the lantern.” “Why? What’s out there?” The old man stopped, thrusting the boy forward. The boy fell at the foot of an iron pole in the center of a small clearing. The man ran to it and snatched the lantern hanging at the pole’s top. “Stay down,” he hissed, lighting the lantern hastily. He hung it up, before throwing himself to the ground. He searched the trees, straining for the purple sparks. Hs heart beat slowly as his hair rose along his arms. He tried to breathe slowly. There! No, just a purple flower. Something moved in the shadows. Or was that just the flickering blue light? Nothing could be seen in the night’s darkness. The man looked closer at a bush. Something yellow quivered within. He squinted. Another honey sprite. They must have just woken up— The sprite fell out of the twisted branches to lie still upon the grass. The man’s heart stopped. A purple spark drifted down to land next to the little body. The man slowly looked up to gaze into sharp glowing eyes, white specks floating high as the trees’ branches. The eyes stared back, a hand slowly emerging beneath them, reaching into the circle of blue light. The fingers stopped, grasping at air. They quivered before retracting. The eyes vanished in a twinkle of purple sparks. The old man waited several minutes before rising, heart still pounding. “What was that?” whispered the boy, standing up. Tears glistened in his eyes, reflecting the blue light. “A shadow of death,” replied the old man. “The curse of spring.” He pulled his candle out of his pocket. There isn’t enough left to get home. I should have taken more than this. “Rot,” spat the man. “Rot it. Rot-it-rot-it-rot-it. Why am I such a fool?” The boy stared fearfully up into his face. “Kathy, what am I going to do?” moaned the old man. He rubbed his face in his hands. “Are we going to die?” the boy asked. Get a grip. For the lad. “What is your name, lad?” “Nolan.” “Nolan, I promise you that we shall not die.” “On your dearest?” the boy asked. The old man placed his hand on the puppet behind me. “I promise we shall make it.” A wailing wavered through the air. “Listen, lad. This is is what faces us. We need to get to my cabin. It lies a quarter of a mile away. This candle isn’t going to last us there. Between us and my home lies an evil entity which wants to kill us. Any ideas?” “Why don’t we take the lantern?” Nolan suggested. “We can’t. It has to stay here.” “Why?” “Because this lantern, plus three others, prevent the creature from making its home within my land.” “Why is the monster in the forest, then?” whimpered the boy. “Are not all the lanterns lit?” “They are,” said the old man. “The creature shall have to leave at dawn, but it roams where it will at night.” “Why do the lanterns repel the creature?” “Because,” explained the old man, “They cast a type of light which repels the creature.” “How?” The old man sighed. “It just does.” “Grandfather, you know that isn’t an answer.” “Lad, I am not your grandfather. Now hush.” The boy stood silent, biting his lip. The old man stared out into the forest, thinking. A light breeze breathed through the foliage. Suddenly, the boy spoke. “Could we burn Herbert? I know he is your dearest, but—” “No.” “Oh.” the boy stared out into the bushes. “I just thought he might cast the right light. He seems to have the kind of string that the lantern has.” “The wick?” “Yes.” “Well, he does,” the old man admitted. “It was the only thing on hand when he was made that could be used for his joints. But we aren’t burning him,” he finished firmly. Something wet splashed in his fading hair. “What—?” “I think a rain drop landed on me,” said Nolan, squinting up into the night. Wind blew through the trees, rustling their blue tinged branches. The old man sighed. “What more can go wrong?” Nolan screamed. The old man spun around. A distance off, two white specks glowed. “Don’t fear. As long as the lantern shines, it can’t approach us.” Rain began to patter down around them, little speeding droplets shining like sapphires in the light. “Won’t the rain put it out?” asked the boy anxiously. “No, the lantern has glass wall protecting the flame.” Something squirmed in the man’s head. He frowned. Something is wrong. He pondered what it could be. Did I forget something? The rain fell faster. The wind picked up speed. “Do we have to sleep out here?” asked Nolan. “Have any better option?” The old man racked his brain. What was he forgetting? He had watered the poinsettia this morning, he knew that. He had fed the budgie… perhaps something closer to hand? But there wasn’t anything… The blue light flickered as rain began to pour. Why didn’t I bring a coat? The old man shivered. The blue light sputtered. It him like a thunder bolt. I didn’t close the lantern door. The old man spun around and reached for the lantern. His hand grasped along its slippery surface, knocking it about. He managed to grab it and bring it down. Lightning flashed. The man jumped. His hand slipped. Down fell the lantern. It smashed upon the ground, the glass shattering. The flame extinguished immediately. It took the man a few moments to realize what happened. Pitch blackness surrounded him. A small hand clutched his own. “Should we run?” came a small voice. The old man snapped to and ran, dragging the boy behind him. He tripped over a root and fell, yanking Nolan down with him. The puppet fell loose, rolling into the dark. The old man scrambled about, searching frantically for it. Where did he go? Where is he?! “Kathy, help me!” He cried. Not this too. I can’t lose this too. “Grandfather,” whispered Nolan. “Into the bushes,” hissed the old man. Rot it, where are you? His hand brushed against carven wood. The old man snatched the puppet. Lavender sparks fell like mist before him as huge feet emerged from the foliage, splayed toes digging into the dirt. Heart racing, the old man scrambled to his feet. Herbert’s carrier jerked him into the air as an unseen hand grabbed it. The old man lost hold of Herbert and it fell grinning to the dirt below. The old man wriggled, struggling to loose himself from the straps. The adjustment strap! Undo it undo it! His hand scrambled for the appropriate piece of leather when suddenly he dropped. The ground slammed into him. He lay stunned, nerves frozen. “Grandfather, come on!” The old man forced himself to move, tearing at the ground with his hands. He crawled into a clump of bushes as skeletal fingers snatched his shirt. Before he could be dragged away, Nolan sped out of the bushes, Herbert in one hand, carrot drawn. Screaming, he rammed the carrot into the dark arm. A snarl resounded from the air above and the fingers released. “Run!” screamed the old man as he and Nolan tore into the foliage. The old man grabbed Nolan’s arm and dove to the ground. They scooted into an enormous bush and lay there, their breath suppressed. A low moaning came over the wind like the rustle of corn stalks. The old man gripped the boy’s arm beside him. Don’t get up, don’t get up. They lay there for several minutes before rising out of the foliage, muddy and drenched. “Where do we go?” the boy asked. “I am not sure.” The man scoured the darkness. His eyes could see now, but all still looked like shadow over shadow. The rain didn’t help either. “I think…” the old man said, hesitating. “We go that way.” He gestured in the direction he meant before reaching into his pocket and pulling out his candle. He struck one of his matches and lit the short thing of wax. A smoldering flame came to life and the man hastily covered it with his hand, letting the match fall to the forest floor. He stepped on it to ensure it lay dormant, then turned to Nolan. “I can take Herbert.” He reached for the puppet. Nolan clutched it close. “Where did you get him?” asked Nolan. “It doesn’t matter. Please give him to me.” “Why are you so attached to him?” The boy backed up several steps. “Give him to me.” The old man snatched for Herbert. Nolan dodged. “I’m not giving him to you until you tell me!” The boy cried. “Why?” snarled the old man. “We need to get moving. We have no time.” He glanced anxiously at the candle. “Because you seem overly attached to Herbert. Does he possess you?” The man stared at him. “What?” “Does he possess you?” “No! Give him to me we need to hurry.” A scream of some unfortunate creature warbled through the trees. “I’m not giving him to you until you answer me,” shot Nolan, eyes glaring. “Fine,” the old man hissed. “Fine-fine-fine. My wife made Herbert. Satisfied?” “What happened to her?” “She died!” roared the old man. “Got it? She is dead. The shadow killed her, and it will do the same to you. She is gone, gone, and Herbert is all I have left of her. She is gone…” he broke down into sobs. Kathy… my dear Kathy, why… Small hands placed something heavy and wooden into his and the old man clutched it to him. “Thank you,” he growled. “Now come.”Then they began to run, the rain bursting around them. The dash through the blue lit darkness dragged on. The old man’s heart raced, Herbert pressed close to his chest, Nolan beside him. The candle continued to grow smaller, the flame guttering. His foot rammed something and he fell forward, slamming into the damp earth. Nolan cried out. Herbert flew out of his hands and rolled down an incline out of sight. The old man clutched the candle. It was dying. He gently breathed into it, feeding the flame. It grew to sufficient size and the man stood up. “Here.” He pressed the candle into Nolan’s hands. It sputtered out. A horrible scream ripped the air. The splat of huge feet shattered the sound of falling rain. “Run!” The old man pushed Nolan forward. “The house is dead ahead.” “I can’t leave you, Grandfather.” “I’m not your Grandfather. Go!” The old man leapt down into the pit where Herbert lay. He scoured the darkness.      There! He snatched the puppet up. A tall lanky figure skidded to a stop a few yards away. The old man’s heart pounded. Once I die he will go for Nolan. He plunged his hand into his pocket and pulled out a match. Kathy, greet me heaven. He struck the match. The light flared up to reveal the hollow sucking mouth of a towering black humanoid. The old man screamed as a monstrous hand lurched forward and grabbed his face. The sinewy fingers seemed to merge into his skin like the piercing cold of winter. The heat drained from the air around the old man. He couldn’t feel the rain on his face. He forced his arm back. His muscles strained against him. It felt as if fire burned in his veins. The old man’s vision was pixelating as he thrust the match into the puppet. Darkness. Fire burned his finger tips, then his hand. He tore his hand away, but now his back smoldered. Burning agony. Far off screaming. The bonfire on his back moved, climbing onto his shoulder. The heat vanished  as blue light flared all around. Melting. He could feel something slowly melting away from his skin. It felt like fiery oil. Cold rain once again soaked his burned skin. Trees stretched into black clouds. Rain poured into the old man’s eyes. He blinked and sat up. The dark forest surrounded him once again, illuminated by a blazing blue bonfire. At its center burned the blackened figure of Herbert, sunk in a pile of blazing ooze. Nolan stood at the old man’s side, his face stricken. The old man forced himself to stand, putting his arm on the boy’s shoulder. “Are you alright lad?” The boy just nodded. “What happened?” Nolan swallowed. “I-it grabbed your face. You screamed, really really loud. You were going-going to- to—” The boy broke down into sobs. The old man let him weep into his side. “Then what, lad? Then what?” he asked gently. Nolan gasped, wiping his eyes on the old man’s shirt. “You l-lit Herbert with the match th-thingy and he was on fire. Then- then he moved. He grabbed hold of the monster’s f-face.. I-it was on fire— melting. It was horrible… He burst into sobs again. The old man patted him on his back, letting him cry for a good bit. Could it have been? The old man stared up into the darkness, letting the rain wash his face like tears. Nolan looked up suddenly into he old man’s face. “H-herbert is dead too. Are y-you sad?” The old man smiled. “No, Grandson. I am happy you are alive.”