Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-28229401-20160417195512

There is a legend that haunts my homeland. I should not say that it is a legend. When most hear the word legend, certain people think of things such as myths and tall-tales. This is no such tale. There is validity to my story. There is evidence of the evil that haunts this land. It services as a reminder of what our elders have done in poor judgment and how we now must stand guard and pay for their mistakes as long as we live.

 Many centuries ago everyone was blissful and content. Ever since the town’s foundation it has been closed off by the thicket of the forest; so much so that it was rare to have a visitor. One day he came. This Outsider. There were those that welcomed the stranger with open arms and others that scowled at him just for his presence in our town. He took both kindness and harshness in stride as he understood that he was new to the community.



 The stranger claimed to be a stone mason. While he was here, he displayed beautiful designed statues, walls, and helped form a bridge that crossed the river for an easier commute for all those within the town. For each praise he received there was twice more negativity. Still he took the harshness and kindness in stride. He would merely thank everyone for their comments equally.



 “Thank you for your words,” he would say then tap the temple of his head with a smile. “I shall remember them always.” This infuriated some. Those that gave him destructive comments couldn’t understand why he wasn’t hurt or even angered when they insulted his work. So the portion of the townspeople did the next best thing. If they could not hurt him with their words then they would destroy his work.



 At first, it began with his shop. Every morning he would find his statues broken and scattered. Each morning he would clean up and begin his work with the same smile on his face. Many people that encouraged him would help the stranger repair his shop. In appreciation for their kindness he made for them what he called Guardians to watch over their homes. These Guardians were no more than two feet tall. The Guardians were often formed in a stilling position with their legs crossed or dangling if they were to be sat on a step or on a mantel piece. The stone in which the stranger used was a magnificent white and it shone brightly at night as it did in the day. There was something strange however. The Guardians had hollowed eyes.



 “Why are their eyes hollow?” a young woman asked as the stranger handed her the Guardian.



The man chuckled softly. “Why, my dear, that is so that the Guardians can see everything. Our eyes are limited, but their eyes… they can see far and wide.”

“Oh.” She simply replied. “That is still very strange, but I do love it. Your work here does bring some of us happiness. The others will come around in time.”

Again he chuckled before opening the door for her. “Thank you, I will always remember your words.” As he would always say with the exact smile on his face.

 His pleasant disposition, despite their efforts, made his assailants enraged still. As long as there were those in the town that supported him the stranger had nothing to worry about. He had found friendship and caring people to help him. As long as he had this, they thought, he would always remain in the village.



<p class="MsoNormal"> They began to make all those who had his statues their targets as well. These disgruntled villagers turned against their own to prove that a stranger was to be shooed away like an unwanted rodent. There was no logic in it, yet to them it made sense. In the statues of the Guardians they placed animal feces inside of the view of their hollow eyes. Honey and old mead so that they would draw rats to homes that they sat outside of. Needless to say, those Guardians were thrown away. Seeing how the others were terrorized, many of the townspeople didn’t want to become targets themselves. They did what only seemed reasonable. Return the gifts that he had given them. The stranger was indeed affected by this. After all, he did make them from in his own appreciation without cost. Though hurt by their decision, he smiled to those that return the statues. “Thank you… I will always remember this.”

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<p class="MsoNormal">The same young woman that questioned why their eyes were hollow returned to him. There was a low sigh that escaped his lips as he had thought she had come to return her Guardian as well. To his surprise, she had come to aid him in cleaning the statues. “Let’s gets them cleaned up,” she whispered, taking his hand.

<p class="MsoNormal"> Some time had passed. Things were usually quiet for the stranger. Until tragedy struck. The bridge that the stranger had built collapsed into the river it. Many were on the bridge in the morning it happened. There was a thunderous crash and splashing that muffled their screams. Many rushed to the aid of the fallen. There was no success; all had drown beneath the bridge.

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<p class="MsoNormal">In a fit of grief, they tore the stranger from his shop; yelling and accusing him of causing this on purpose to get back at the town. He pleaded with them that something must have caused the bridge to fall and that it was not him.

<p class="MsoNormal">“Look at him, he was so angry with us he even killed the person who came to see him each day!”

<p class="MsoNormal">The young woman had fallen to her death in the murky river that morning. The stonemason’s eyes widen. He shook his head in disbelief. The one person who still held kindness in their heart for his work couldn’t have met such a terrible fate. “Y-You all did this? Harm so many just to get back at one? YOU ALL DID THIS!!!” It seemed as if his voice echoed throughout the town.

<p class="MsoNormal">Spurred into action, the men of the town grabbed the stranger and dragged him out of his shop and was beaten into the submission. He tried to fight back but there were too many. The people of the town took the man into the forest from where he had initially entered. Along with him they brought his tools and one piece of stone. They told the battered stranger to make his own tombstone because this was to be his final resting place. He spat at their feet before saying these words, “As my eyes see you before me, I will remember!” What happened next was horribly unexpected. The stonemason gouged out his eyes with the chisel. His screams were that of a wild animal as he repeatedly stabbed his eyes. The gruesome sight churned their stomachs as they watched the madness. When there was nothing more left of his eyes except a hollow red cavern he stepped closer to the crowed. His hollow eyes seemed to watch them as did his Guardians. “My eyes are wide and I do see far…” He dropped to ground. They presumed the man dead from the blood loss. Silently the townspeople went back to their homes, muttering about what just transpired.

<p class="MsoNormal"> Later that night, a heavy fog swept over the town. There was a sound echoing around the town. It was the sound of hammer and chisel against stone. It was a piercing sound that came from all over. Frantically, they tried to find where it was coming from to put a stop to it. It was coming from the forest. It was a callous sound that resonated in their minds. “He can’t be…” a hushed voiced trembled. Several tore off into the middle of the woods to silence the stone maker once and for all. With the dense fog a few became turned around and lost. The deeper they went into the woods. the closer it felt they were to the town. Some of them described it as being run into a circle but they knew they followed a straight line. Those that made it back to the spot where they left the stonemason found something more ghastly than what they had initially left.

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<p class="MsoNormal">There was a large statue. It was human-like in only its stance. The face was like that of a rabid dog that bore a sharp toothed grin and a tongue that curled through its teeth. The statue had claws for a hand that held out something that looked to be a round orb. Across its body was cloth that had inscriptions of what one could assume was the mason’s native tongue. But what was most notable about the statue was its black eyes that bleed crimson the longer they gazed upon it. It didn’t appear hollow like the rest of his work. It looked as if this mad creation of his had eyes made from a pure black stone. The black stone appeared endless and darker than the night sky. Nothing in town was made with such a sinister stone. The stonemason’s body laid in the same position as they had originally left him he had not moved and there was no evidence of movement or footprints around the statue.

<p class="MsoNormal"> “This is madness! Who put this here?! Is this some joke?” a man asked gruffly.

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<p class="MsoNormal">Murmurs filled the air. Dark whispers some intangible and other very… clear and destructive. The longer they gazed at the statue the more they heard the words, the louder and more direct they became. The fog receded around them, becoming more and more dense so that they could not see one another but only the statue and the body before it. Each person became fixated on the image. Stricken with fear they could not turn away from it or its words. That was until a shriek broke them of their trance. They ran to origins of the sound. One of the men of their party had been disemboweled. His entrails littering the ground and his neck turned backwards. Claw marks were raked across his face and what remained of his torso. They could not hear an animal that would have done this. Because it wasn’t. They turned to look back at the statue, its head and gaze had turned to watch them in their fear. Its grin widened with blood flowing down it. Terror gripped them only to be shattered once more by the screams now coming back from the town. The party tore back to the town to find that many had been ravaged just as the man had been in the woods. Only they found who had been doing it. It was the man who thought it was all a joke. There was lunacy in his face as he laughed into the sky with his eyes black just as the statue’s. The man turned to them and said in a voice not his own, “With every gaze I am free! I remember and your children’s children will as well.”

<p class="MsoNormal">“ What are you doing?! Why have you done such evil!?”

<p class="MsoNormal">The man laughed again his voice unnaturally deep with hissing. “ I have not done evil as you have done to yourselves.”

<p class="MsoNormal"> It took all that night to catch the demon possessed man. They hanging him, but he would not die. They tried to stab him, but he still lived. The demon laughed at them. “My eyes are wide. Once I see you… you are mine I WILL REMEMBER ALWAYS!” The man possessed by the statue’s and the mason’s revenge tore loose from his captors and began wreaking havoc upon the town. Men, women, and children were snatched from their beds to be dragged through the woods, screaming for their parents to come to their aid only to have no one come or dare make a sound towards the demon for fear they would be next. Those that were taken were found in the following days. Their bodies were strewed throughout the forest. Corpses had appeared to have been mauled to death by a bear. Their jaws ripped from their fleshy sockets. Limbs missing or partially eaten… Their eyes wide. The lids curled back revealing the dried thin membranes; below those were those blackened stones where the eyes should have been. Those same stones that the statue possessed. Those eyes that never stopped watching. Though their deaths were violent and their lives snatched too soon, they were better off than those that were living in fear of being next.

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<p class="MsoNormal">It was then that the clergy had to step in. The priests had all watched silently as the town had turned its ugly rage upon the man. They thought it would be faith that would guide them to accept the man. They were wrong; they stood not lifting a finger to help the stonemason. They too were condemned with such evil for they did nothing to stop it, thus contributing to his death. The clergy in their search for penance hunted down this demon in attempts to set right a wrong and cleanse the stain of death from the town.

<p class="MsoNormal"> One priest still held onto his occupation while he served God. He was a blacksmith. Every morning he could be heard praying or humming a hymn while he stuck his hammer upon the iron and steel. It was believed that his iron nails brought blessings to those that had them built into the framework of their home. Some even believed it granted peace to those that placed them in the cross of their loved one’s tombstone. The blacksmith forged large iron nails with thick heads upon them, baring sigils that he claimed would banish the demon from them. So with these nails in hand, the hunt began.

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<p class="MsoNormal"> It did not take long for them to find the possessed man. He was near the collapsed bridge and he could smell them coming. There was a toothy grin that spread across his face as he came eye-to-eye with the blacksmith and the rest of the priests. “Have you come to your own resting site?” he mocked. “Or have you come to bless the souls that have been lost from your blindness?”

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<p class="MsoNormal">Wordlessly the men charged the wretched man who could not truly be called a man but a beast. It took five of them to subdue him and place him firm upon the ground. The possessed man’s cackle bounced all around them. “Do your worst what has been done cannot be forgotten or rewritten. For it is inscribed in memory.” Without a single word to the man, they began their prayers as he cackled and spat into their faces, all the while cursing their names. The blacksmith with nail in hand struck the iron piece into the man’s eye. The sounds escaping the possessed man’s lips were inhuman; they were all too primal and animalistic. The blacksmith struck again, this time his other eye. The man’s primal sounds soon turned into the sobs of the person he was once…in his dying words, blindly he spoke, “He can see us… the statue sees our fear and waits for us to return. He will return…”

<p class="MsoNormal"> The forest is a dangerous place that surrounds our town. Still hidden in the thicket of the fog rests the sculpture. The whispers calls from the forest, daring anyone to visit. It wants nothing more than to be seen because that’s all it takes for it to enter one’s soul… This tale has been passed down century after century. We are now to stand as the guardians to the statue in the woods to make sure that the evil that we have brought upon ourselves does not get out and harm anyone else.

<p class="MsoNormal"> <ac_metadata title="The Statue (Unreviewed, would appreciate feedback)"> </ac_metadata>