Vamirs Crossing was small but strong. We were a community in every sense of the word. Each year, during our three-month period of darkness, being able to go to your neighbor for help was vital. Winter, especially Toblitche's, was always an unpredictable event to behold. Some, and maybe saying that is an understatement, wouldn't manage to withstand its merciless advance. Darkness would become a well-established state of being. You'd have to adapt to the environment. You must strip yourself of the weakness the abyss provides. Cast away your senses and move firmly with your instincts.
Nonetheless, we weren't prepared for what occurred in the sky. Nothing that dwelled in that town or even the forest could've expected it. And even if we did, nothing could be done to prevent it.
My little brother was the first sign that something was wrong. I heard him through the thin walls that separated me from the front door—a silent but trembling voice. His itchy, bitty eyes, attached to an image he couldn't share, just continued to chant. It was only until I knelt beside him and listened that I finally understood what he was saying.
"It's watching us." Over and over he'd repeat it. Being provided with no acknowledgment didn't thwart his attempts at understanding. As my parents followed suit none of us could find what it was. It was only until off in the distance the sky began turning gray did we had a vague understanding.
***
My family owned a small business. It was always a hot spot for people to buy the miscellaneous items my dad would make. He was a woodworker, and in my enclosed world, he was one of the greatest. Either my dad just destroyed all the competition or he didn't have any to begin with. Having been surrounded by wood, using it besides building became necessary if the forest started running wild. A superstition or what have you been to blame for that? Superstitions aside after the storm I'd noticed an influx of people asking for gray wood.
It started with the Romila family. There was Johnson Romila, a 31-year-old male, and Arin Romila, his wife. For as long as I knew them, which wasn't long, only three measly years, they'd been quiet. Never saying a word to any of us besides to say good morning, and even then that came sparsely. They were part of the growing number of people who made their homes in Vamirs Crossing. Hence, they were out of the circle of news that passed around. Most of anything about them had been left behind from wherever they came from. They had no intention of changing that.
From the counter, I couldn't get a good look at her. The most I got was half her cheek before disappearing further into the store towards a separate part of the store that typically didn't gain much attention. The Romila family usually bought particularly expensive pieces. I'd always assumed they were well off. They lived in the section of town that regularly was cleared out. Vamirs Crossing always had a bit of maintenance to do. Typically whenever houses became vacant a strange tree would sprout from the floorboard. Grey and sickly it would grow enough to poke one singular twig above the chimney and stop. You'd cut it down and within a week another would sprout. It was only when someone moved inside did it finally came to rest. Until then the numerous pores that were spread about the tree smelled of puss and filth. Beige liquid would ooze from the bits chopped off from its body. Warm and slimy just thinking about it made me sick.
Despite this, there was one particular house, and no matter what we did to thwart it, the tree would always grow. We tried digging up the roots from the stump, suffocating it burning it. But nothing. Once the Romalia house; they made it their desire to own that particular said. nothing would change their mind. "State your price and we will pay it." Truth be told, it was Arin in particular who wanted it.
After thirty minutes, John came from the back carrying a box full of small pieces. He held it by the ends of his fingers. His veins popped from his skull. I rushed from behind the counter, grabbing the bottom with him and setting it down with a loud thud.
We both panted and John seemed especially exhausted, taking a full minute just to say thank you. I told him it was no problem. I was just doing my job. Then I mentioned Arin and why she didn't help. He froze and his eyes went wide.
He turned around briefly and whispered, "She doesn't want anyone looking at her right now." I noticed his teeth chattering.
"Why?"
He swallowed harshly and muttered, "I- can't say. Please don't make me say it." I raised my eyebrow at him and smiled.
"That's fine. Sorry for intruding" I was confused more than anything but for whatever reason I felt sympathy for him. I didn't know what was happening, it just felt like I should. From memory, this was the most I'd interacted with him. Didn't want to push any boundaries.
"Thank you." He breathed a sigh of relief and reached into his pocket. "On the way here people kept on looking at us. Don't think we've ever gotten so many looks."
"Everyone's just a bit on edge about what happened yesterday. It'll blow over, don't worry."
John shook his head violently, "You don't understand I'm worried about what she's going to-" He was stopped by a sudden jerk. Slowly he moved his head to see what was behind him.
I tilted my head attempting to understand what garnered his attention. It was only when I blinked did a figure appeared behind John grasping his shoulder tightly. It was Mrs. Arin, this time fully revealing what she'd been hiding. All at once I was forced to take it in.
Half of her face looked dry and gray. Lines, resembling the pattern of a tree, waved across her face. They extended to her ear which hadn't yet been afflicted by whatever had consumed her. Tips extruded from her eye. I can only describe these as branches. Her eye, out of everything, remained the same in color. A small branch pierced through the middle of her pupil.
I fell. The feeling in my legs completely drained away. I was too shocked even to scream. I held my chest as I struggled to breathe. What's wrong with her? I didn't need to verbally say it. It's not like I was trying to hide my disgust, not like that would've stopped her anyway.
She seemed amused. A twisted smile formed as the side of her face that was sickly struggled to move. She tried to force herself to crack a smile, but it was harder than she thought. After failing, she leaned over to John and muttered something under her breath. Only he would hear it. Then she turned her attention back to me.
"Cyclia, sweety, did you hear what the voice said? Didn't it just mesmerize you?" Her voice was detached from anything normal. Guttural, raspy, agonizing to listen too. Any femininity had been stripped away as her body more so it resembled a log or a thick branch. Calling her humanoid anymore would be wrong in any sense of the word. As strange as it was to say she reminded me of a tree.
I stammered for words, only able to shake my head as I struggled to stand.
"Oh, oh, but you will know it. If you open your heart to it, something sprouts inside of you—a newfound truth, I think." She attempted to wink. Her eyelid was caught on the branches. Her skin hooked, taking a piece of dried skin with it.
"I wanted to surprise everybody, but who's a better person to show than the father spawn? His talents have consumed me for years. It took some time before I truly realized the extent of his work."
"Please, Arin, we should go," John pleaded but one look from Arin was enough to make him stop. With his head hung low he bit his lip and turned away.
"I'd like to make a request, Cecylia. For your father."
I only nodded, still verbally saying anything was still far from possible.
"There's a forest several miles from here with trees made from gray wood; have you seen it?" I shook my head.
"Soon there will be one here. Once it blossoms, I would like your father to make a magnificent piece out of it. The best work this town has ever seen. I want to be the first."
"Th-that would be expensive, ma'am." I nervously smiled as I finally gained the strength to stand. "My father's booked on requests"
"Oh, that won't be a problem, sweety." She crouched down, tilting her head so that the deformed side of her face hovered over the counter. In an instant, the gray sickness consumed her ear, and a rumbling erupted from inside. Wooden coins stormed from her ear canal. They pooled into a pile so high that some slid down from the counter. They gathered at my feet.
In a panic, I looked to John searching for some sort of normalcy in what was occurring. Instead, I received the defeated look of a man begging to let it end. His eyes shouted of horrors beyond the surface of my feeble understanding. All stemming from her.
It was clear that he'd seen it before. He was hoping I wouldn't have to see what she became either. But now that it came to this, I didn't know what to do. Watch In disgust? Horror? Or just pass out and hope that when I open my eyes she will be gone. None of that would come to truth.
"R-Right, thank you, Ms. Romalia." I attempted to smile. I guessed anyone with a working pair of eyes could see my distress. I was on the brink of tears. I struggled to keep my emotions inside. I attempted to move away from the counter, hoping that by the time I left, they would have left as well. But I was stopped by the weeping cries of John as Mrs. Arin had hunched down and whispered something else. They left the store soon after, with Mrs. Arin easily carrying that crate.
It was only later that day that everything came to me in a wave of panic that my family was victim to. They held me in their arms for as long as it lasted, which in my manic episode lasted hours or a few minutes. The constant image of Arin's face flashed in front of me, sometimes even appearing in the mirror. My face would slowly be taken over by the same disease that affected her. My mind would imagine what would happen after it completely consumed me. By the end of it, I hardly resembled anything human, yet even after what I saw, I still doubted it. Especially since, besides John, I was the only one who had seen Ms. Arin's face.
"Mmmmm, I'd have to ask around, but the Romalias don't interact with many of us." My mom was busy looking out the window. Ever since the voice, she'd been glued out there. My brother hadn't come out of his room much. He only left to use the bathroom and grab something to eat. None of us pushed him to stop; if anything, his response should have been the norm.
"What about you, dad? Have you seen them lately?"
"Can't say I have sweety." My dad was busy in his corner carving out something with steady precision. His back was turned to me, but I could tell he was deeply concentrated on his work as he always was. Even after everything I experienced, once I showed the mound of coins to my dad, his eyes lit up. If it hadn't, I would have questioned if it was him.
As I stood up, I accidentally peered a glance at what my dad was working on. My eyes widened, and I went into silent shock. With a slow and steady hand, my dad was working on a small piece of gray wood. It was only a few hours when, from my window, I saw the Romalias' house. The sparse lights extending from house to house were enough to pave the way to each of them. Without my consent, my eyes followed the stream of lights until they found their destination. Something was sticking out from the chimney, and it only continued to grow as the night went on.
In that instant, I thought back to the day before and the voice's poem returned to me. I was able to recite it perfectly, and I felt inclined to chant it aloud,
"In the woods far in the west
Off in the ground where Solomon rests
A cloud of grey makes its way through
A cloud of grey is coming here, too
It brings desire of Ill intent
To sway the minds of the innocent
Bring the city of desire to rubble
Bring the island back and make them suffer
Because in that cloud, something awakes
Large and horrible, it has no name
It's only desire is his status quo
To fulfill it means nothing more
Come to Ichemound if you dare
A telltale sign awaits you there
A city of chaos, some might say
Because off in the west, a cloud comes near
Ichemound is coming here"