The Leshy: Part Two (rough draft)

One evening the leshy doesn’t even wait for you. It comes up to the windows of the church, watching you as you polish Pastor Lado’s pulpit. You have long since stopped being afraid of it, and instead, all you feel towards the leshy is a strong frustration. It is like a tom cat outside your window yowling every night.

You open a window to the church, which the leshy recoils away from, stumbling into the graveyard and nearly knocking over a tombstone.

“Why won’t you leave me be?” You ask, using a gentle tone. “Why do you make the wildlife grow around this town as if you are trying to strangle life from it? The hunters go missing one by one each day. You have more bones each day. What is it you want? Am I to be added to your bones? They aren’t very good! Especially the leg ones.” You let out a huff then slouched your shoulders. “I know you can speak, so at least speak to me on these matters.”

The leshy stares at you, strange eyes wide open and unblinking as you speak. “Buh-onssssss,” it gargles.

“I saved your life, why not spare mine and go elsewhere?” You point towards the forest.

“Luh-life. Yes.” The leshy nods. Its strange hands pat against its chest, or what could be a chest.

You narrow your eyes as the leshy does a strange little dance around the window. Patting its chest then hobbling to the left and weaving back in.

You sigh and shake your head. “What are you doing? You silly creature. Each day you get more and more ridiculous. It’s sweet in a way, but my ways are set and you’re making a mess of them.”

“Luhff,” it huffs out, spittle flying from its teeth.

Narrowing your eyes you wiped off your cheek. “Go back to the forest from where you came.”

The leshy steps back, crunching through the wall of the graveyard and toppling a few tombstones. It looks down, staring at the mess below its feet.

“Now look at what you have done!” You come out of the church, hobbling with your cane. “Get out of there! Get out!” You come up to the leshy and try to push it aside.

The leshy takes hold of your hand and plucks you up off the ground then sets you upon its back. Your cane drops from your hand and as soon as it hits the ground the leshy takes off with you into the forest. You scream, but no one takes notice of the sound. The leshy runs through the trees, dodging, swaying, crowing at the top of its lungs. That whistling rows louder and louder, echoing from the leshy’s form. You hold on as best you can and keep your head ducked down.

“I don’t think they are bad or good,” your husband once said. “They aren’t human. They don’t have that nature.”

“Says the pastor,” you scoffed at him. “How many beliefs do you have?”

Your husband just smiled at you. “More than you have.” He kissed you and looked back down at the drawing in the back of his bible. The creature there was something only someone genuinely imaginative could have drawn, or else, it truly was real. “If you see one, I think you’ll understand this world is more than what you can see. You can’t explain everything, my love. Sometimes you have beliefs, faith even.”

He was always like that, much like a pastor himself. Faith. Belief. It never was anything to you. You had your wits, your pride, you could stand up for yourself even if your legs gave out. But he had something you needed, and even when he died you couldn’t admit it.

You raise your head from the shoulders of the leshy, seeing the sunset going down over the mountain tops. The leshy shakes, grunting and stomping through the river. The leshy places you on the other side of the bank where no one has been before. The villagers spoke of what lay beyond the point and made it known it was unsafe to go beyond the river.

“Luhff!” The leshy huffed and shivered, sending cold water all over you like a rain.

Something inside of you has given way, and tears have begun to sting your eyes. They fall from your cheeks and your nose begins to clog. You take a shaky breath, hating the leshy is seeing you this way. “What are you saying? What do you want from me?”

The leshy grins at you and nods. It sits down in the water, gazing up at you with those wide eyes. They are the same color as your husband’s were. Even the way the vines and cloak fall over the leshy’s face reminds you of him.

“Me,” you murmur.

The leshy holds its arms out to you, spreading its fingers and opening up its palms wide. You continue to stare at it, holding in your breath as the tears fall. You have to let a sob out and your knees buckle. Your weak legs give way and the leshy catches you in it’s arms, holding you fast, embracing you.

“You don’t want me,” you whisper to it. “You don’t want this.”

“Luhff,” it chuffs it again. The leshy strokes your hair and the river begins to overflow. The water rushes faster, beating against the body of the leshy and coursing up onto the dry ground.

The leshy places you back down upon the bank, and rises back to standing. It walks up beside you, heading towards the deepest, darkest part of the woods. The moon could only give so much light, and you were afraid of going any further.

“Take me home,” you insist. “Please.”

The leshy gazes at you, its eyes unblinking. It then points into the forest. “Unh. Unh!” It juts it’s finger with each breath.

You shake your head and sniffle, wiping your nose upon your sleeve. “I can’t walk in there,” you offer. But that wasn’t the reason you wouldn’t budge. “You dropped my cane.” Behind you the river was going wild. You won’t be able to cross it on your own.

The leshy scoops you up in one arm, carrying you close to its chest and then it walks into the deepest woods. You cling to it, gripping tight and shutting your eyes.

“Tiss-ah way tiss-ah way,” the leshy sings as it continues trudging forward into the thicket.

You keep your head turned and eyes shut. But then you think: “what am I so afraid of? What is it I think is out there?” You raise your head, thinking about how silly it was that you let the ideas of the village get to you. It was the forest, the same forest you knew, just over the river.

“Luhk. Luhk!” The leshy points ahead, seeming to sense your gaze return.

Somehow, the moon had gotten brighter and revealing a path through the trees. Dancing lights hover along the path, bouncing and floating along the gentle breeze. As you were staring, trying to put together the vision before you, something began crawling up your legs.

Screaming, you swat at the wooden vines growing around your shins and the back of your calves. The leshy sat you down, despite your heavy breathing. The vines held you up, made your legs feel as strong as they were when you were little, before you got sick, before you met your husband.

“Anh, anh,” the leshy held out his hands, urging you to go forward.

“This is all very strange for me!” You say with a restrained fury. “I am…not accustomed to this.”

It urges again. “Anh. Anh!”

You couldn’t admit your fear, so instead you turn back towards the lighted back. There is a hushed whisper about the trees. Voices speak to one another, just low enough your couldn’t make out individual voices or conversation. It became a droning hum that tickled your ears and down the back of your neck.

The leshy placed its hand upon your shoulder and you gasp.

“Tuh-rye.” It gargled.

You frowned, but cautiously took a step forward. There were twinges in your legs, but the vines kept you aloft and made your limbs stronger. You take more leary steps, eventually coming upon the floating lights. You excused then as strong fireflies, but the closer you came upon them, the more it looked like the faces of sleeping babies and children. You recoil, but the leshy keeps you moving forward.

“I would like to know what am I supposed to be doing!” You shiver away from another light that sighs like a sleeping child. “What are you doing?”

The leshy’s hand moves from your shoulder to your arm, slipping down until it catches your palm and holds it there.

“I have not simply trusted anyone in a long time. Do you understand? It has been me and only me. And you…well, I should say, you look more trustworthy than some people, but you also look very unknown to the world.” You swallow down the lump growing in your throat.

More of the lights passed you by, their faces  growing younger and older in the same breath. You shirked back, coming closer to the leshy. “I know not what to make of you. Leshy, or whatever it is you really are.”

It smiled at you, showing off jagged strange teeth within its mouth, the same mouth that had regurgitated berries and mushrooms as some sort of gift.

“You do understand me, don’t you?” You asked. “Not personally. But just what I say. You left when I told you to every night. So you must understand something.”

The leshy nodded and its horns knocked against branches that hung above you.

“Well,” you huff. “Then you are adamant to show me something. Whatever it may be.” You crossed your arms, rubbing your arms as the night was growing colder. You shawl only did so much to ward off the chill.

The leshy stops and strugles with something around its neck. It rips at fabric, tearing off the cloak which it place around your shoulders. The material was strange and seemed to be made up of many different patches.

“Thank you,” you mutter. “That was uhm…very kind.”

The leshy bows down and used his large hands to smooth out the cloak. Debris and forestry build-up scatter from your shoulders, coating the ground. After a moment, it walksf orward again, guiding you along the path.

Voices continue to drone on in the distance, a few spoke louder, thrasher than the others, cutting through the hum that vibrated the air. “Blood,” one rasps out. “Meat,” another sang horsley. “Muhmuhmumuhmum,” a third moans incoherently.

The leshy stuck out his hand, offering it for you to take. “Lee-tull murh,” its words were becoming a touch clearer to understand.

“Blood.”

“Meat!”

Taking hold of the leshy’s hand, you keep close to its side. Your eyes darted around into the darkness. “What is that? Who is speaking?”

“Odd-turs,” the leshy whispered.

You craned your neck up to look at him. “Others? What does that mean?”

The leshy changes directions, heading towards a darkness you could not see into. It held onto your hand tightly, pulling you along faster and faster. The vines upon your leg made you run to keep up, but you were losing breath.

“Please! I can’t run like this!”

“Blood!”

“Mumumuhuhmumum!”

You scream, catching pace beside the aching in your chest. The trees part, opening up into a valley drenched in moonlight and covered in those baby-faced lights. Their sleepy sighs and moans fill the field, while stars twinkled and threw sparks upon the earth.

The leshy stills for a moment while you breathe heavily and a cold sweat drenches the back of your neck. Figures you hadn’t noticed before were out walking the field, vanishing, then reappearing where they stood before.

“What is this place?” You whisper. The more you watch, the more you notice the figures, whose very image seems to be a distortion of the moonlight.

“Death,” the leshy spoke clearer than ever before. It met your eyes as you stared at him, disbelief washing through you with a hint of terror.

“If you are death come knocking at my door, I would like to know,” you say staunchly. You stiffen your back and shoulders. “So I can tell you what I think of you properly.”

Shaking its head, the leshy points you to beyond the line of the valley where lights do not distort or hover. In fact, it looks as if a lantern is dying where he directs you.

“There. House.”

“Your house?” You sk and the leshy nods. “You wanted me to see your place as you’ve seen mine?”

It nods again. “Ha-ohm.”

You bob you head with him. “You could have told me so and not scared me half to death.”

The leshy grins and wiggles in excitement.

“You wanted to startle me!” You balk at it, dropping your arms down to your side.

The leshy clapped its hands together. “Juhck! Juhck!”

You scoff and stomp out onto the field. “Some joke!” You lead the way, but the leshy runs out ahead of you. Its swift movements elongate its body, shifting and moving like water in the air. The lights move aside, float higher, but the distortions disappear as you grew close, then faded back as you walk away.

The leshy points into the dark alcove then disappears inside.

“Wait up, I can't keep up, even with these vines.” You step over stones, nearly tripping. The stones shift and move, making sounds like hollow wood. It was too dark to tell, but a thought creeps over you that perhaps it is bones and not stones.

The leshy picks up the lantern, turning the knob so the flame burns brighter. It shakes the light towards you, happily wiggling as it stands in the mouth of a cave.

You step with caution, looking into the mouth of the cave. It was cold and drafty, and a scent you could only describe as old hung thick about the place. The leshy walks in with its lantern revealing a collection of old swords, rusted medals, books, wagon wheels, and various pots and pans. There were jugs placed along the walls, and towards the back there was an old cot with a blanket draped over it with possibly something laying on it. Almost everything had moss and vines growing upon it. The floor was soft from all the moss, and despite the chill it was warm.

“Yes?” The leshy asks.

“Yes,” you whisper. “Uhm…this looks like a house.”

The leshy hung the lantern on the ceiling, using a hooked root. It scampers towards the cot, pointing at it.

You step in further. “I don’t want to lie down, not until I go home.”

Light distorts around the cot, looking like a man sitting up then laying back down again. Cold chills go down your spine. The leshy points. “Anh! Anh.”

The figure that sits upon the cot looks frail and lean, their body long and hair disheveled. You step towards the leshy, but it pushes you to the cot. You stumble, hitting the cot and pulling back a bit of the blanket, revealing a skeleton underneath. You recoil away, cupping your hand around your mouth.

“I wish she wasn’t so intent on being alone,” a familiar voice whispers. “We’re so different. I don’t understand her half the time.” The voice strains to speak. “It’s nice having you here. I just wish we could have made it further.”

You shake your head slowly as the distorted light continues to sit up and lay back down. “It can’t be.”

“Take me back to her, if you can,” his voice sounded gargled as if something was coming up his throat. A cough echoes all around you. “Take me home so she won’t be so alone. So she will be loved.”

The leshy places its hand upon your back. “Luhff.”

Despite shaking hands you pull back the blanke. Parts of it are rotten and fall away, some clinging to the body under it. The figure is wearing his old uniform, holding his old bible.

“Here,” the leshy whispers.

“No,” you answer back. “He’s not.”

“Unh unh. Here.” The leshy turns you, making you look up into those familiar eyes. “Tuhck while…ca-came…buh-back.”

You furrowed your brow, feeling angry at this creature. “No. My husband is gone. Dead!” You pointed to the cot. “That’s all!”

“Nhot hall. Muhr.” The leshy extended its hands. “Fae-teth.”

“He was so close,” you whisper. “All this time.” The bed before you seems so small. He was always such a tall man.

“Luhff. Here.” The leshy took the bible from the cot, taking fingers with it. You lunge as if you could keep the hand in place. The leshy opens the bible to your portrait. It falls out to the ground, and upon the back you see writing.

“My love,” you see written upon it. You take it up, seeing your husbands hand writing, shaky, but legible.

“My love, I know I won’t make it back to you just now. The flesh is weak, struck and bleeding. But my soul is strong, and my friend has agreed to help me make it home, even when I perish. You have always been so strong and resilient, I doubt I need worry much for you. But my love, you have always been alone. I know you do not care for such things, but I do in my boundless love. My friend will keep that love, will keep me. I may look strange, but I promise, I will be there. I won’t be a million miles away, much longer. I never was. Love, A.”

“Luhff,” the leshy chuffed.

“Love,” you whisper back.

The leshy put its arms around you, holding you tight.

You wake back in your room, body sore, legs aching. You doubt you could rise from bed. You lay there, staring up at the moss covering the ceiling.  You then see the bible sitting on the side table, and on the mantle your picture has been leaned against the framed one of your husband.

“Strange,” you whisper. “That is one one to say it.” You sink into the bed and a few tears roll down your cheeks. He’ll come back that night, you think to yourself. He’s not a million miles away.