Bitterwater Tales

Foolish child, you do not know what you ask. Magic? You wish to learn these arts that I have spent my life studying?

Look at you. You do not look the type that would spend days poring over tomes, nor would dig up the bones of your ancestors to create potions or sacrifice virgins under the stars.

I have done all these things and more. I have put all my effort and time into this, boy, all my years have dwindled and I only wish for more time.

Go, swing a sword instead, boy.

You’ll live a more fulfilled life.

You see them at the edges of your vision. Those shapes, those shadows that form nightmare figures, long limbs and malformed heads.

What are they, you wonder. What do they want?

They come when the night falls, when the lights dim, and the air grows cold.

One is named Shelly, another Rebecca, and the last, Alice.

You know those names.

You know what you did to them.

Their rage cuts through the veil of death. Those shadows you see are but a shadow of the rage they feel and the pain you’ll suffer.

The veil is weakening and they’re coming.

I ain’t here to hurt you.

Put down your guns and listen.

I see you don’t trust me, but I’m here to help. You ain’t a bad person, I know that. I’ve got a gift of knowing folks souls.

You’ve got some bad in you, but you’ve got good too and I know you ain’t gonna shot me.

Thank ya, kindly.

I’m hunting down a monster who’s left a trail of dead in their path and I’ve found her.

Now, put your hands up.

There ain’t no good in you, you only wish there was and that is your weakness.

Blood, that’s all they want, nothing more, nothing less.

Who’s blood? It doesn’t matter who’s, they’re just looking for their fix, like some kind of cosmic junkie.

Yes, that’s what your gods are, junkies. Blood junkies.

You’ve emptied out regions, dragging people up your temple steps and slicing them open, trying to sate the blood gods.

It doesn’t happen that way, you’re just upping their dose and they want more.

Now all your surrounding lands are empty of people and the only ones that are left are those in your borders.

And the gods are getting antsy for a fix.

The archetype of man defeating something far more powerful than they are has been around since they were hunters and gatherers.

We’ve always been enamored with the idea of the underdog defeating their more powerful foes. It tells a story of drama and great obstacles heroes overcome and it also shows us that wit and skill are needed to win.

David versus Goliath is a great example. A man fighting something more powerful then he ever could hope to be.

He won because he used skill and wit. Also everything has a weakness, my child.
Now, let’s find your mother’s.

“What claim do you have to this solar system?” the alien asked humanity. “You’re stuck on your own planet and we don’t want that world. We will begin mining operations on the rest of the system.”

That was the first and last message from the alien invaders. That message changed the world, of course. We tried every means we could to communicate with the aliens again. They had so much they could tell us about the universe.

It turned out the radio waves we used annoyed the living hell out of them.

And what do you do with annoying pests?

The world ended and I walked across this ruined nation back to you. I battled monsters, crazies, and defeated the Cult of the Blood Moon and freed its enslaved people.

I lost friends, watched good people die, and discovered what I was made of.

I’m not the only one who has changed, it seems. The end of the world offered us different paths.

I discovered that we can do good in this hard world. I wish you had discovered the same. Instead you’ve become the evil that infects it.

I still love you, but I’ve learned how to defeat evil.

“How are you?” the doctor asked.

I stared at him and wondered if he was joking.

“No,” the doctor said, “this isn’t a joking matter, Mr. Sampson. You are in the hospital.”

There are bandages on my head.

I wonder what happened.

“You were involved in a collision. You’re lucky to be alive.”

I don’t remember any of that.

“Some memory loss is common in these cases.”

“Are you reading my mind?” I asked.

“Of course, can’t you read mine?” the doctor asked, worry in his voice.

“No,” I said.

The doctor stared at me in horror and backed away.

The date was wonderful. I’ve never had so much fun with another person. She was amazing.

“I had a great night,” I said as we stood on her porch.

She smiled. “You’re a great guy,” she said, “I’m sorry.”

“What?”

Then she faded, like a bright bulb going out. The afterimage still glowing there.

There was a creak and the house shifted. The door yawned and showed teeth. She was a lure for something great and terrible.

It dragged me in and swallowed me. I think I’m being digested. There’s no pain and I hear her voice.

So, it’s okay.

Yes, I know that I should have listened to that old timer who said the Black Woods were dangerous.

In my defense, he was drunk and missing half his teeth.

You never liked Laura and Pete anyway. They were boring.

It’s just me, you, and Mark now. Mark’s the fastest and he’ll make it across the field and to safety before us. The slowest will be caught.

You ain’t much of a runner.

Ouch!

Don’t worry, babe. I’ve got a plan. I’m going to stab Mark in the leg. I know he’s my best friend, but, baby, I love you.