Piercing Screams

July 13 2022; people 115

This was written in 2018.

A scream pierced the air. I jumped, looking wide eyed in the direction from which the high-pitched vociferation exploded. I flew in that direction... the forest’s direction. The vibrant flower-filled meadow, which moments before had seemed far too short against the drab and putrid forest, seemed to lengthen before my eyes. My speeding feet seemed to slow to a turtle's pace. At last, as I neared the edge of the meadow, I hurdled the final barrier, a four-foot-high hedge. A second after I cleared the bush, I saw my sister, curled up with her head in between her legs. I landed, tripping over her, and my face plowed through the ground. I stood up and shook the sand out of my hair. My younger sibling lifted her head.

"Is it gone?" She looked around frantically. "AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH! GET! SHOO!" She hid her face. I looked in the area which she had been staring. A tiny brown bat dangled from a tree branch. I rolled my eyes.

"Come on, Matilda, it is almost time for lunch."

"Okay Arno." Oh well. That is what I got for dreaming of knights in shining armor. Knights, Ha! These days there was nothing save poor peasants.

"Race you back!" I spun and ran... into a wall of metal and man. I was on the ground... again.

"I'm sorry. Here let me help you up." As I recollected my wits, the man I had ran into reached out his hand and upon grasping it, he began to pull me up.

"I heard somebody scream. Do you know where it originated from?"

"Um, well actually, it, um, originated from my sister, here." Matilda turned crimson. The man said nothing, but his eyes were laughing. "Do you have a place to sleep tonight. Because if you don't, you could stay with us." His face was indecisive. "It is settled then. Matilda, will you run ahead and tell grandma to set another place for lunch?" She ran ahead, with her blond hair flying behind her, and soon reached our small but comfortable cottage.

"What is your name?"

"Arno, sir and if I may what is yours?"

"Courtly manners! We are not in a palace, you know. Drop the sir and call me Dale! I hardly any older than you are anyway." This I saw to be true.

"Where are you from, sir - um - Dale?"

"From Bronch, a port city of Arancha... a tidal wave of markets, monkeys, and men. It is what I call home." An edge of homesickness hung on his voice mutinously. We started to walk toward the cottage. "But it is extremely snowy there. I always said it was far too cold there." He grinned, sweat pouring down his face in rivers. He pushed back his dark hair. "Oh, no. I forgot my horse."

"Horse? Oh horse. I'll go fetch it."

"I probably should. He's feisty,"

"I'll do it. You are sweating like crazy."

"I hate to impose."

"I'm doing it. Where is he?"

"He is under the trees over there." I started walking in the forest’s direction.

"What is his name?"

"Lyneo!" After a short while, I neared the grove of willow trees that lay on the outskirts of the forest. The forest. I shivered. All my life I had heard the most gruesome stories about that forest. It was said that in that dark mangled mess of thick spiny weeds intertwining massive trees, there were the most horrifying creatures living. Like the Skrats. The Skrats were told to be deadly. They periodically came from the forest and wrecked havoc on whomever they could find. They always attacked at night unless provoked. They supposedly look like a large monkey, but nobody could truthfully tell you any details about Skrats; anybody who had seen one either was trying to escape into the darkness... or did not live to tell the tale. When I arrived at the weeping willows, I ducked beneath the drooping branches. Inside of this green leafy dome, there was a horse. It was shimmery gray all over.

"Hello, Lyneo." My voice was soft. I reached out to stroke him. Crack! I drew back my outstretched hand quickly. The horse nickered. Snap! Suddenly a large portion of the tree fell onto the ground next to me. I jumped back. But what was more surprising was laying on that giant branch was a - a Skrat! It lay in a discombobulated stupor. I took this as an invitation and began to observe it from my viewpoint, which was pretty good, because I was like - a foot away. It was like leopard with yellow with spots but had the shape and face of a six-foot tall orangutan. It shook its head and bellowed. It looked at me and gnashed its massive, yellowed teeth. I start. I had overstayed my welcome. I jumped into the saddle on Lyneo's back. "GO, LYNEO!" The horse rushed into gallop. But the Skrat was close behind. I began to frantically tear through the saddle bags, looking for anything that I could throw at the Skrat that might deter it. "A pen; an inkwell; a letter! I thought he was a knight, not a scholar!" I switched to the other saddle bag. It seems that this pack was full of provisions. I was about to give up in frustration when I found a small meat knife. I twisted around and throw the knife. Bull's eye! Or to be more accurate Skrat's eye. His visage became more fearsome as blood poured down his primatial face. He stopped running, sniffed the air, and with a loud howl raced off toward the forest. Lyneo slowed to a trot. His hide was streaked with sweat. I got off the laden horse, and it followed me not lead to our barn stable where I unsaddled it and rubbed it off. I quickly finished the rest of my chores for the day. I went inside and washed up. I went to the kitchen, where my grandmother was cooking lunch.

"Will you tell everybody it is time to eat, Arno," I stuck my head out the door.

"Time to eat!" I was about retract my head when I saw Dale crouching at the foot of the barn, in the small shadow that was cast at the time of day. I rushed over to him. "What are you doing?"

"I was - checking on my horse - earlier - and decided to stand - in the shade. Well, you said it was time to eat."

"Yes," I watched him suspiciously as he straightened and walked off in the direction of the cottage. I bent down, trying to find out what he had been looking at. There, in the ground, was a small metal knob protruding from the earth. I grasped it. It was cold. I strained my muscles in an attempt to pull it out. Impossible. It felt like I was attempting to carry a mountain with a summit of four thousand three hundred and twenty-one feet high. Clang! I started. Peering around the corner of the barn I saw Matilda coming out. When she was out of sight, I whistled. "Things are sure mysterious around here." I rushed toward the cottage, so that I would not be late for lunch.

*Chapter 2*

In the Darkness

Later, when I was in my bed, I lay thinking about what had happened that day. Why was Dale crouching by the barn? What was Matilda doing in the barn? What was that little piece of metal? Suddenly a scene from earlier that day flooded into my mind.

It was during lunch and Dale had taken off his coat of mail. We were all eating chicken.

"Dale, huh. Where are you from?" Grandma asked.

"Bronch, Arancha." My grandparents looked startled.

"May we see the coat of arms, please?" Grandpa broke in. Dale went into the other room and returned with a shield. When they saw it, their faces were visages of horror, like one who was caught unready for Judgment Day.

"Why are you here?" Grandma's voice cracked.

"I am on quest to find stolen my sister. She was captured by pirates half a year ago. Her hair is dark like – like mine. You have not seen her, have you?"

"No," They visibly relaxed.

The vision faded. I rolled over, trying to push the questions out of my mind. But one remained. What was that piece of metal doing there? I turned over again. Finally, my curiosity got the better of me. I slowly stood up on the floor where the moonlight lay slanted. I crept forward, avoiding spots that were prone to creak. I lay my hand on the doorknob, then carefully eased the door open. I sneakily traveled past the row of doors, upon hearing something stopped, with one foot still above the floor. I stood like that for couple of seconds. I gently put my foot down, and was about to resume the arduously stealthy trip, when I heard my sister cry out: "No! I will go with you! To live without you is worse than death!" I put my hand over my mouth in an attempt to keep quiet. I silently tiptoed to the door, removed the bolt, turned the handle, and entered the refreshing night air. The moonlight was streaming down and around the barn and lay in puddles about it. I snuck over to the barn, polluting these puddles of extraterrestrial light with a dark shadow. I walked past our carthorse which Matilda had secretly named Maranchina, past Lyneo - and kicked the metal plow, which I was sure I had not left there. It resonated with a bell-like sound. I was motionless as a snake about to strike. Nothing. I sighed. I walked around the plow and grabbed a shovel. I rushed outside, careful to avoid the plow. The little knob was still there. I began to dig furiously. One; two; three... When I had reached fifteen, I could see that it was hilt - of a sword! I dropped the shovel and grabbed the hilt. I pulled hard on it. It slid out of the hole. I held it up so I could examine the blade. Even when it was covered in dirt, the sword was awe inspiring.

"Drop your sword. Orr you'll feel my steel!" The voice was hoarse and grizzly.

To be Continued...