She

She

By Merle Cavanaugh

They say when she crawled her way out of the earth the Endless Plains immediately noticed her presence and watched. The hole from whence she came forever remained a pockmark in the earth’s skin. In fact, I journeyed there and I peered into that hole into the inky blackness. No one knows where she came from. 

She eventually arrived at a small village. Two days later, the entire population of simple, peace-loving folk had danced themselves to death, the skin scraped off the soles of their feet, their tendons torn. 

In the mountains, more and more hunters and lumberjacks went missing. Families living near the tree line could hear it. People warned their children that if they heard a strange woman calling their name, begging for help just beyond the tree line, that they should just ignore it and calmly walk back to their parents. The few who were found deep into the forest had warped bodies; their bones broken and muscles torn. Many of them had died smiling with their feet scraped down to the bone. 

A girl gathering berries near the tree line encountered the only survivor. He was peeking at her from around a tree. He was stomping a regular beat into the fallen leaves and the crunching rhythm got frenetic as the woman noticed him. He giggled through his jaw, hanging by a couple strips of skin. Blood and drool coagulated on his crooked neck. 

She immediately ran and got her parents. Her father tried to ask the man what had happened to him, but the man only gibbered about how he needed to find her again. He died before the village doctor could arrive. 

The village elders dreamt of her origin and merchants south reported the devastation at the village which bordered the Endless Plains.

All in all, we still don’t know that much about her.