We were in a blizzard, the cold winds threatening to knock us over. For some reason, I was a child again, about 9 years old or so; I looked up to see my mother firmly holding my hand as she carved a snow trail in front of us with her free hand. The pained expression she had on her face as the piercing cold threatened to rip through her skin had been etched into my mind. She was clearly uncomfortable, and for some reason, I was oblivious to it all, letting her guide me aimlessly. Suddenly, I was jerked awake by my alarm clock, it was just a dream. Shutting my alarm clock off, I groggily rubbed my eyes and stared out the window to see the falling snow. From outside my room door, I heard muffled conversations between my mother and aunt, it seems they’ve woken up early for Christmas preparations. I looked at the date and time on my phone, 6:34 am, December 24.
With that, I got out of my bed and made my way down towards the soft voices downstairs. My mother was finishing up the decorations around the living room, whilst my aunt was wrapping some of the gifts for my younger cousins. It seems both my older siblings were still asleep in their rooms, much to my vexation, since I knew my mother would ask me to assist her.
“Do you mind helping me with the decorations, Becca?” My mother asked me, I rolled my eyes with an irritated sigh. “I just woke up, mum.” I replied.
My mother gave me a scowl, scolding me for my defiance, to which I dragged my feet towards the red and green ribbons on the floor. “I don’t know how to hang them up.” I said.
“Could you at least try to figure it out on your own.” She replied.
“You’re the one that asked me to hang these up when I didn’t even want to in the first place.”
My mother stopped working on her side of the decorations to turn her full attention to me. “Becca, you’re 15 years old, you’re more than capable enough to figure out how to hang up the ribbons”
With that, an argument broke out between us, it was early morning, and we already had a disagreement. My mother and I argued often, but this one felt more personal, fighting over some stupid ribbons made both of us feel like we were wasting our breath – yet we both knew that it was more to it than that. Looking back at it, throughout my entire childhood, my mother had done almost everything for me, even if I was capable of learning it on my own, even if it meant stunting my growth. It’s clear that my mother loves me very much, and would rather callous her own hands over mine – as time went on, I could see the realisation on her face that she had coddled me more than was necessary.
Lately, she’s been yelling at me more often to do tasks that I hadn’t even thought about doing in the first place, cleaning around the house, cooking my own dinner, doing my own laundry, surprisingly, these are all things that my mother would do for me, I never had to think about doing any of these things growing up. After reaching a certain age, she had started yelling at me for not being more hands-on around the house, comparing me to my older siblings who take more initiative.
I complied with her wishes, trying my best to hang up the ribbons, and of course, not really hanging them up well, which gave me a feeling of helplessness and a strong urge to throw everything on the floor. Whenever I made a mistake, I would glance over to her, hoping that she would direct me, to which she would promptly ignore me. After that ordeal, I stormed back up into my room, leaving my mum and aunt in the living room alone.
"You may be a bit too harsh on her, Mary." My aunt said.
My mother sighed, "I try not to be, but it seems that I’ve treated her like a child for far too long. She struggles to do things on her own… I suppose that's my fault."
"Her time will come when it comes, my advice is to be patient with her for now" my aunt replied.
Meanwhile, I slammed my room door behind me, burying myself in my bed once more. I was angry, and the only way I could express that was through quiet sobs. I knew that I needed to change, I knew that I needed to be more mature, but it's just so hard. I suppose my anger was directed at both my mother for treating me so harshly, and to an extent myself for not being the person she wants me to be, I wish I could have more of a backbone.
To escape from these awful thoughts, I shut my eyes and decided to drift back into sleep. My dream gradually manifested and took shape, it was the same dream I had last night - my mother held my hand tightly as she continued carving a path through the thick snow. She seemed fixated on something in the distance, like she could see it clearly, however, all I saw was fog, nothing more than the grey void in front of me.
Suddenly, our movement came to a halt, my mother had unexpectedly stopped walking. As I averted my gaze from the view in front of us to her, she was gone, and all that was left of her was her severed, bloody arm. In a panic, I fell backwards and screeched at the top of my lungs - I dropped her arm on the ground, staring at it in absolute terror as it slowly began to turn pale and shrivelled from blood loss. All I could do was coil up in a ball on the cold snow and weep loudly,
“Mummy! Mummy…” I shouted.
"Spineless…" A deep, hoarse voice suddenly spoke in my ear, making me jolt. I frantically scanned my surroundings, searching for the source of the voice.
"Oh, you'll do nicely" The voice cackled.
"Hello? Who is that? Where are you?" I replied.
The ground broke underneath me, forcing me to plummet through a dark abyss as I crash landed onto what appeared to be an abandoned city, one that resembled a post-apocalyptic world. As I stumbled back onto my feet and looked around, I couldn’t help but feel panicked and utterly confused at the barren wasteland before me; broken down buildings, wrecked cars, empty streets, and a foggy atmosphere that I could only guess were noxious fumes permeated the air. I looked around in a feeble attempt to understand the circumstance I found myself in, eventually turning my attention to the clothes I was wearing. I appeared to be wearing rugged bandit attire, as if I fit perfectly into the world I was forced into.
A bolt of bright yellow lightning struck in front of me, and out of the dust came out a skeletal man wearing what appeared to be WWII uniform. His glowing, golden eyes directed their focus towards me, while his exposed jaw and teeth cracked into a sinister smile.
"Welcome to my realm, Becca Lindberg." He said with a noticeable German accent.
"You may refer to me as 'The Carver', it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance. Seeing as you’re my first visitor, it would be courteous of me to explain the situation you’re in.” He said as he cleared his throat.
“You are the perfect candidate for the activity that is to take place - the realm we're in has granted you the power of immortality, you are to never die as long as you're here."
I couldn't say anything in response, it felt like my throat was closed shut, all I could do was stare at him in horror. This has to be a nightmare, right? This isn't real, it can't be, I thought. He rambled on and on, I wasn't paying attention to a lot of the things he was saying, but there was one phrase he said that embedded itself in my mind,
"You will only be allowed to leave if you manage to kill me."
The moment I heard that, I shook my head in disbelief, "Wait, what, kill you? But why? Why are you even doing this?" I pleaded.
He stood in silence for a moment, silently judging my remissness
"It seems you aren't a very good listener, that will be your undoing, Becca. But no matter, let us begin." He said.
With that, he suddenly levitated in the air, raising his arms to throw his merciless might at me. I backed away in fear and made a run for it.
"Someone! Please save me!" I screamed with tears pouring down my face. I turned around to face him, only to be met with three monstrous, lovecraftian beasts galloping towards me on all fours. Their skin was grey, and their bodily structure was incredibly bony, with pointed claws on their fingers. I couldn't outrun them, they eventually caught up to me, pinning me to the ground on my stomach.
"No! Please! Stop!" I pleaded, resisting their force upon me. They salivated all over me, whilst making their high pitched squeal. The Carver levitated towards us, staring down at this sight.
"You may proceed." He said, and with that, they began gnawing on my body, tearing the flesh from my bones. The scream I let out was enough to deafen even myself, my ears rang and my sight became obscured by my own blood. My arms, legs, belly, and eventually, my neck all became unrecognisable as they were bloodied and torn. My mind slowly went blank, and my body went limp, my heart stopped beating and my breathing ceased completely.
Believing that my torture was over, I felt a slight sense of relief that I had finally died, escaping the suffering I had to endure. As my consciousness almost left my body, a red flash enveloped me, creating a loud bang that could be heard kilometres away. As the flash subsided, I woke back up, my mind forced me back into consciousness, my body no longer being in pain or even being torn apart, I was alive and fully healed…
"How can this be?" I said.
"It seems you've forgotten," The Carver replied, "As long as you are in this realm, you will not die, I won't allow it" He said with a cackle.
"No... Don't tell me..."
I looked up to see the three beasts towering over me once more. I shook my head in disbelief, not wanting this to be real, hoping that this was still just a cruel nightmare, if not, at the very least, let me die to avoid any more suffering... Please.
"Let's try that again, shall we?" The beasts grinned and pounced on me once again. I screamed out, the beasts went for my arms and legs, pinning me down as they ripped into my midriff.
“Wake up! Wake up!” I yelled, screaming at myself to get out of this dream. I attempted to end my suffering quickly by biting my own tongue off, leaving blood in the back of my throat to choke on. My eyes grew lifeless a second time, my sight faded to black, and my body went limp. This was my second death, and even knowing this, knowing that what he said was true about my immortality in this realm, I still clung onto the hope that this was all just a bad dream and that I’d wake up soon, only to be brought back to life in that instant. This time, I decided to make a run for it, stumbling over my feet as I did, not looking back.
Carver ordered the creatures to halt for a moment, staring at me from a distance as I ran. “Give her a chance to catch her breath” He voiced.
After a few minutes of waiting, and my running aimlessly in panic, he ordered his creatures to continue their pursuit, to which they eagerly galloped in my direction.
5 deaths later…
I limped into a broken down shack in the middle of the deserted woods, clutching my bleeding shoulder – I shut the door behind me and used the little bit of strength I had left to block it off with nearby furniture, preventing the demonic entities from coming after me. I coiled up into a ball on the dusty, wooden floor and silently wept, still begging to be woken up. At this point, I knew it wasn’t a dream, I really was trapped in whatever hellish realm this was, but I still foolishly held the belief that it wasn’t real. I clenched my hand, imagining my mother’s soft fingers intertwined with mine.
“Help me, mummy…” I said softly as to not make any noise.
Alas, this didn’t matter, as the demon burst through the door and barricade. This creature had been pursuing me for what felt like an eternity at this point, it appeared to be a tall, old woman with rotting skin and a hunched back covered in pitch-black garments – she cackled loudly and exclaimed that she found me. I tried to crawl away from her, but she grabbed my leg and dragged me across the floor – I left claw marks on the floor boards in my futile attempt to escape from her grasp, begging her to let me go, to which she responded by impaling me through the back with a rusty spear from underneath her rags. The spear pierced me straight in the heart, prompting my body to react with a jolt as my sight almost instantly faded to black.
The red flash, which I was now growing used to, had enveloped my body once more, resurrecting me. I was completely healed, but she was still standing over me, her cackle pierced my eardrums whilst her cloudy eyes became bloodshot with unrelenting brutality as she raised her spear for a second impaling.
12 deaths later…
I found myself traversing the abandoned streets of the city once more, where I felt it was slightly safer, equipped with a metal pipe clutched tightly in both my hands. I cautiously looked around with tears welled up in my eyes, I just didn’t want to die again, it was too painful – memories of my past deaths flashed before my eyes, the feeling of the pain I felt when being torn apart, stabbed, and crushed washed over me, making my body react with shivers, jolts, and slight convulsions.
Suddenly, I heard the sound of broken glass to my left within a dark alleyway, forcing me to jump up in fright. I’ve learnt that there’s no running away from these creatures, they’re stronger, and faster than me, there was simply no point in attempting to escape them, I figured I had to start fighting back. I stood in the middle of the empty street, looking into the void of the alley, waiting for whatever monstrous entity laid within to pounce at me. As I suspected, one of those grey creatures came galloping in my direction – I shut my eyes and swung the pipe aimlessly in the air, all whilst scream-crying my way through it all.
Before I knew it, I was pinned to the ground, a familiar position for me to be in at this point, only this time, I made a feeble attempt at fighting back by throwing my weak fists at it while it clawed and gnawed at my body.
“Leave me alone! Go away!” I shouted with fear and frustration.
I tried crawling away, dragging myself a few inches away from it and only managing to move underneath the fluorescent light of a nearby street lamp. It was hopeless, at this point, I had completely given up fighting back, however, I did notice that the creature was purposely trying to drag me away from the light, as if it wasn’t bad enough, this creature was trying to taunt me, not even giving me the leeway to step away from the darkness for even a moment. My clothes were heavily drenched in my own blood, and before I could shout anything further, it slit my throat...
23 deaths later…
I dragged my feet towards the man who calls himself, ‘The Carver.’ He was sat at a run-down café with his legs crossed, and reading a 1940s newspaper. As I approached, I dropped to my knees with tears pouring down my cheeks.
“Please…I beg you, let me go…” I pleaded.
He peered into my soul with his bright, golden eyes, not even bothering to waste his breath other than to say,
“Kill me, and you'll be set free”
I grit my teeth and clenched my hands into fists, whitening my knuckles.
“You vile man! Why are you even doing this to me?! What have I done?! Who did I hurt to deserve this?!” I cried.
He had no response to my cries, turning his attention back to his newspaper and casually flipping to the next page. I felt utterly distraught, the prick doesn’t even have the decency to tell me why he’s doing this. In the corner of my eye, I spotted several shards of glass, some big enough to use as a weapon.
“Fine… If you want me to kill you that badly, then hold still!” I shouted as I grasped the biggest shard I could get my hands on.
I sprinted in his direction, winding my arm back to deliver a fatal blow – he was right there, I just needed to stick this shard in his chest and it would all be over, I'll send him straight to hell.
I pounced on him and stuck the shard straight into his chest, I couldn't believe it, I actually did it, I hit the mark perfectly, right down the middle. A surprised smile slowly crept up on my face, realising that I managed to do it – alas, my victory was short-lived, he made that same haunting cackle, and in a flash of red, much like the one that kept me shackled here, he instantly regenerated.
My efforts meant nothing, the chest wound, as well as the gaping hole in his uniform had completely fixed itself. Upon seeing this, I dropped the shard to the ground, realising the true hopelessness of it all. I couldn't even muster up the courage to cry anymore, I merely laid on the ground, coiling up into a ball of despair, and felt my mind slip from reality. He stared down at my depressed state with a merciless gaze,
“You've failed to kill me, but no matter, you still have all of eternity to try again.” He laughed.
He raised his arm at me and materialised a Luger in his hand’s grasp, aiming it with laser-precision. 7 gunshots could be heard from kilometres away…
34 deaths later…
For the past 11 or so deaths, all I did was stay in a foetal position. Laying there on the cold, concrete street while passing creatures occasionally murdered me, only for me to resurrect in the same vulnerable position, unmoving. It was almost as if my mind were no longer present, I had escaped to the deepest depths of my psyche as a means to cope with the anguish – there was no point in fighting anymore, nothing mattered, and I had accepted that this was my life now. Whilst digging through my mind, I stumbled upon an array of memories from my whole life, like watching old recordings from a tape. I recalled my first graduation in year 2, all of my birthday parties, family gatherings, and almost every good moment with my mother. It was a nice escape.
My mother did so much to make me happy, looking back at it, she had sacrificed so much to put food on our table and keep us warm with a roof over our heads, she calloused her own hands, so I didn’t have to, I wish I could show my appreciation to her, but I suppose it’s too late now. My mind continued to wander as it recalled that dream I had, in the blizzard with my mother as she tried so hard to carve through the thick snow for the both of us – even in my dreams, she’s always fighting so hard for me. Without her, I have no one to take the fall for me, no one to shield me from the cruelty of the world, it seems her protection has made me…a coward, a victim of nurture. As I find myself trapped in this realm, my best plan is to lay helplessly on the ground and do nothing, affirming my cowardice.
“I can’t do anything, I’m such a coward, I’m helpless, I can’t defend myself, I can’t think of a good plan, I can’t put on a brave face, I can’t carve my own snowy path, I can’t hang up ribbons, I can’t do anything…” I repeated this in my head, over and over again, that was the realisation I had of my whole character, just a snivelling coward that can’t think for themselves. But If that was the case, I had to ask myself in this moment,
“What can I do?”
As the question came to the forefront of my mind, I pondered on it, in this awful realm of pure suffering, with a maniacal man watching my every move, what can I do about this situation?
There was only one answer that came to mind,
“I can persevere…I can keep trying to get back home” I uttered under my breath. As I uttered those words, that same damned, monstrous elderly woman made her way towards me from the shadowy depths of the streets, cackling as she limped in my direction with her rusty spear. Noticing her approach, I uttered those words once more, “Get. Back. Home.”
That was the only thing that mattered to me in that moment, it was as if fear had taken a backseat within my heart, the trauma of the suffering I endured prior no longer mattered, and the one image that remained in my head was the image of me sitting at the dinner table with my family, sharing smiles and laughs, this was what I wanted, and to get it, I needed to ‘persevere.’
I got back on my feet, the elderly woman just inches away from me. She jabbed her spear at me, piercing my left shoulder and missing my heart, which she was aiming for – I made an effort to dodge the spear and narrowly escaped death. As she had her spear through my body, I took a deep breath and remained calm, the pain was a slight inconvenience to me if anything as I’ve endured it many times at this point. The monstrous woman attempted to retract her spear, to which I denied her that privilege, gripping onto it tightly to prohibit further use of her weapon. With the spear gripped in one hand, my other hand grabbed the shard of glass I dropped earlier, and with the coldness of a hardened killer, I stuck the shard into her chest, digging it as deep as I could to hit her right in the heart. She screamed out in anguish, and vanished into dust…
This was my first ever victory against a creature of this realm.
I felt nothing afterwards, no feeling of pride or sadness, I was just doing what I believed needed to be done, and that’s all that mattered. I ripped the rusty spear out of my shoulder, watching the blood pour from the gaping hole like a waterfall – I knew I couldn’t keep going with this massive wound, I took a glance at the shard clutched in my hand and knew what needed to be done, as if it were instinctive. Without so much as a second thought, I slit my own throat, and watched the world before me fade to black, only this time, it didn’t feel like pure suffering, it felt like an act of rebellion against this wretched world. The familiar red flash enveloped me, resurrecting me and regenerating all of my previous wounds. I grabbed hold of the rusty spear covered in my own blood and proceeded to tread through the cold, broken down streets. I didn’t know where I was going or what I was to do next, but I knew where I wanted to be, and whatever I did next would be a step towards that.
1 week later…
I assume a week has passed, I’m not entirely sure, this realm is in a constant state of night, the moon in the sky is unmoving, I suppose that’s proof enough that I’m not in my normal world. I haven’t died since I slit my throat all that time ago, it turns out I know how to deal with these creatures better than I thought. After facing them so many times, I’ve almost grown accustomed to them, and learnt to adapt to their methods of attack. For instance, those grey creatures, I like to call them skinwalkers, since they heavily resemble the mythical entity – they don’t take too kindly to light, I can avoid them by stepping into a streetlight and they won’t approach me; It burns their skin. It all makes sense now, why they were so adamant to drag me into darkness and keep me away from street lamps as best as they could. I do wonder what the extent of it is, since they don’t get burnt by the moon’s light.
Regardless, I figured out a weakness to take advantage of, and they won’t be much of a problem anymore as long as I’m careful. I heard a loud screech in the distance, speak of the devil – the creature jumped out of the shadows on all fours and crawled its way towards me. I calmly took a few steps back into the streetlight, maintaining sight of the walker as it approached me. Once I stepped into the safe zone, it froze in its tracks and I came face to face with it, and it refused to move any further towards me despite its clear urges to rip me apart. I stared it down without a waver in my resolve, lifting my spear towards its throat and slowly shoving it through its flesh – the walker gargled on its own blood as it submitted to me, how the tables have turned on this putrid beast. After pushing in a certain length of my spear, it vanished into dust, ceasing to exist.
Although I was more conscious of their weaknesses, handling the creatures was still a hassle for me, I couldn’t afford to let my guard down at any point. What was I to do now? I knew that Carver was immortal, and yet to leave, I needed to kill him – was victory impossible? Am I really going to stay here for all eternity? The thoughts ran rampant through my head, doubt slowly beginning to creep back in. To be completely honest, I had no idea what I was going to do, or even had the slightest clue of what my next move was, but… I did know that I wanted to get back home, and I wasn’t going to achieve that by doing nothing. With steely determination, I firmly grasped my rusty spear and adventured out of the barren streets. After walking for a while, dodging beasts and other aggressive entities, I found myself at the edge of the city, laying my gaze upon mountains in the horizon. It seems like there’s more to this realm than I presumed, and my ticket out of it may lie beyond this city and its woods.
Whatever it takes, I will see my family again…
