THWOCK!

  The Elk’s body slumped to the ground as Morgan Crosper’s daughter, Wynonia Crosper, embedded an arrow right in the middle of its forehead. Proud of their daughter’s first-ever kill, Morgan signed to Wynonia that their hunt was over and to help lift the carcass onto the sled for the journey back home. Trudging through the forest, Wynonia, only twelve years old, skipped behind as her parent dragged the sled forward. The sun was setting, so they increased their pace, since Morgan's spouse, Jesse, and their eight-year-old son Jameston were most likely waiting for dinner.

  Finally, the two arrived at the hill overlooking their home, but something was wrong. The town was completely quiet, too quiet, as even at sunset, there would still be children playing in the streets, with the markets still closing down for the night. Yet the air was still, and even the forest seemed dead, with almost no sounds emitting from the trees compared to just five minutes before, when the cicadas and birds were singing in harmony.

  Morgan and Wynonia dragged the sled down and noticed that the streets were truly empty, but as they got closer to the town, that would change. A putrid scent filled the area, a smell of rot and death. The pair covered their noses, with Morgan signing to Wynonia to be quiet and follow them, drawing their shortblade out as they crept through the silent streets.

  They arrived at the Winston family’s household, but nobody answered despite Morgan’s knocking. Putting an ear to the door, Morgan heard a sort of slurping sound within the house, as if someone were slurping up noodles. Peering through their windows, Morgan scanned the entrance hall until they spotted the youngest of the Winstons, four-year-old Annie, crouched over what seemed to be the body of her mother, Zoe, lying flat on the ground.

  Morgan pushed the door open and rushed to the child, but stopped short as the source of the sounds became clear. Zoe’s stomach was split open, and the slurping sound was Annie eating her mother’s internal organs. Along the child’s nape were black, bubbly blisters, seeming like they were ready to pop at any moment. The back of the girl’s shirt was torn open by spikes piercing from her flesh, spikes that had the consistency of bone.

  Zoe’s mouth was agape, her eyes in a state of shock, albeit one eye was missing, gouged out from the socket. Annie had a ferocious, yet glazed-over, look in her eyes, one of hunger, IMMENSE hunger.

  Morgan was in shock, unable to move, until he heard Wynonia scream behind them as she witnessed the scene. Annie’s head snapped to Morgan as she released a guttural growl, one that a four-year-old girl should have never been able to make. Annie lurched towards Morgan, but she was too slow for someone who served in the Dragonspear Kingdom’s army.

  Within a second, Morgan had unsheathed their sword and lopped off the head of Annie, or whatever was pretending to be her. The head fell to the ground with a loud thud, but more movement and growls were heard upstairs, as a group of “people” began to shamble down the stairs to aid their fallen brethren.

  Morgan and Wynonia bore witness to the transformed Winston children, one of them carrying the jawless head of Clarence, their very own father. Morgan scooped up Wynonia and ran out of what was once the cheerful and humble abode of the Winston family. Running through the streets of their village, more of those repulsive creatures emerged from the corners of buildings, and by now the sunlight was almost completely gone.

  The pair passed by a burning house that once belonged to Eva Estroy, but Morgan covered Wynonia’s eyes as they passed Eva’s body, which had been impaled on her front fence after a tumble from a window on her second floor. She wasn’t dead yet, as she seemed to have just fallen out, most likely trying to escape the fire.

  “H-help me, p-pl-please,” she begged, her eyes already glossing over as blood dripped down her outstretched arms.

  Eventually, they made it to their home near the town’s center, and the windows were smashed in. Entering through the back, Morgan slowly pushed the door in, only to hear the wet squelching sounds and a strange crunching sound.

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Whilst making their way closer to where they were hearing these sounds, Morgan suddenly remembered why the crunching sounds felt familiar. Once, when they were a child, Morgan had fallen out of a tree, right on their arm, breaking their bone.

  Turning the corner, Morgan saw Jesse, partly obscured by a large figure, being lifted by seemingly nothing. However, Morgan then noticed the large arm tearing through the stomach of the love of their life, erupting through their back in a gory display. The abomination wrapped its fingers around Jesse’s neck, who struggled until the very last second before the abomination snapped their neck. Jesse’s body went limp, their eyes fluttering shut as their jaw slid open, blood dribbling down their chin.

  Out of the corner of their peripheral vision, Morgan spotted Jameston’s arm poking out from behind a cupboard in the corner of the kitchen. Inching closer, Morgan found Jameston’s arm, but not his little boy’s body.

  A sniff broke through the silence as the monstrous creature turned to Morgan and then Wynonia. The creature was a hulking mass of darkness, with glowing eyes and horns. Its face looked similar to that of a deer, but wrong in an indescribable way. In its hands were the eyes of Jameston and the freshly harvested eyes of Jesse.

  The creature crept towards Wynonia, who began shaking and backing away. At that moment, Morgan acted without hesitation, leaping to protect their daughter. But the Harvester swept Morgan aside with tremendous force, sending them crashing into the cabinets.

  Paralyzed, Morgan could only watch helplessly as the monster towered over Wynonia.

  “DAMA! HELP ME DAMA!” Wynonia cried out, her word for parent, as the Harvester picked her up by the arms.

  Morgan attempted to scream, but nothing came out. As the monster left the home with Wynonia in its grasp, all Morgan could do was turn away and silently cry. Hours later, the sun rose, and Morgan finally got up, clutching their left shoulder in pain. Looking down, surrounding their feet were the remains of what was once a beautiful family. In a daze, Morgan left their home, the air heavy as they attempted to register what had just happened. Over the next few hours, Morgan gave their family, or rather whatever was left of them, a proper burial, a funeral that they deserved rather than rotting in their now godless home.

  All around them, those strange, mutated “people” emerged from their homes, shambling around and paying Morgan no attention. It seemed eating their own families and friends had satiated their hunger for now, allowing Morgan to move forward without meeting any resistance.

  The town they had grown up in, a town where their family had lived for generations, contained nothing but corpses. Nearby, old man Ricken’s barn seemed to be untouched, and as Morgan entered, they noticed some of the livestock was still alive. Musket shells covered the ground, meaning Ricken had put up a fight, and opening their home door, Morgan discovered that his fight proved to be futile in the end.

  Going back to the barn, Morgan began surveying the animal corpses and released the ones that had survived. Out of them all, there was one animal that caught their eye. Graclyn, a beautiful white steed with glistening red eyes that Ricken had claimed to be the fastest horse across the Lands of Everstar. Behind her bloodied body was a grey foal that had some of the same features, save for its hide and eyes, which were a stormy blue. As Morgan began to leave, the foal followed close behind, not leaving their side.

  Morgan ventured through the town, taking armor from the blacksmith’s ruined shop before coming upon the very sword that Jameston had helped create for his swordsmith classes. Along the fuller was the name “Jameston Crosper”, etched into the steel blade. A tear dribbled down Morgan’s cheek as they picked up the blade, sheathing it and attaching the scabbard to their belt.

  As Morgan began to don the armor, they noticed something strange about their left arm, specifically where the Harvester had made contact with it. Pulling their sleeve back, they noticed a strange symbol, seemingly etched in blood. It resembled a filled-in sphere with three scalene triangles, encased within another circle. Around the mark, Morgan’s skin was turning into an ashy gray, as if the flesh was dying away. Looking over to the foal, Morgan noticed that the young steed also had the same mark on its right flank.

  Moving the sleeve back, Morgan looked in the mirror to see the blood of their family still on their face, but elected not to choose it. Instead, they wore a helmet, one they chose to never remove unless completely necessary.

  Together, Morgan and the steed left behind the town, carrying only the weight of their memories and new items. The Land of Everstar had been tainted by something new, something evil, vile, and downright cruel.