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Description
Devil’s Child

All was silent in the forest; moonlight filtered softly through the trees bathing the leaf-covered path in a soft, ethereal light. The peacefulness was broken when a ragged figure crashed through the undergrowth and thundered down the mossy path. Stumbling on a protruding tree root he collapsed to the ground. He lay there for a while, breathing heavily. Scratches covered his arms and there were a few on his face - evidence of his flight through the forest. Slowly he began to limp onwards, all of the adrenaline that had been driving him before draining away.

He froze as he heard the pounding of horses’ hooves; they were catching up with him. He started to run again though not as fast as before. He would run through the bushes again so as to slow his pursuers down but he no longer had the energy to fight the clawing branches.

He could hear the men’s cries now; they were getting closer; soon they would be upon him and the chase would be over. He started to run slower and slower, thinking how much easier it would be to give up, until finally he was walking. It wasn’t fair; they had no right to arrest him, just because of a birthmark.

He turned around and faced the horsemen, dirty brown hair falling into green eyes. All the men were wearing iron crosses to ward of the evil they wrongly thought was within the youth in front of them.

“For all that is holy you will submit to imprisonment, never to see the sun’s light again,” the man who appeared to be the leader nudged his horse forward. He spat on the ground in front of the boy, “You, Jared, son of David, have poisoned us with your evil for long enough.”

He did not struggle as the men bound his feet and ankles and dragged him off to his fate.

Jared stood in the centre of an angry mob, wrists and ankles shackled, his right shoulder laid bare so everyone could see the birthmark. The Devil’s mark as they liked to call it. The mayor stood slightly in front of him and the guards, addressing the village.

“This boy has been marked by the devil; he has cursed all of us and it is because of him that all our crops have died!” The mayor paced in front of the villagers talking passionately. “This is why I say we lock him in a windowless cell where God’s light cannot reach him. There he shall die and eventually rot away.”

“I say we burn him?” shouted and angry villager.

“ Or at least stone him!” called another, throwing a stone that hit Jared in the head, making a deep gash. Throughout all of this Jared just stood there, a resigned look in his eyes.

“Stop!” the mayor raised his hands. “ If we do that the remains of his flesh will spread and seep into the land. This way the evil will not be spread.”

With that the guards hauled Jared off to the already prepared cell and pushed him inside jeering at him the whole time.

“With you gone we can get on with our lives,” one of the guards said to him as he closed the door, shutting out the last trace of light.

Jared sighed, his shoulders slumping in despair: he had suffered greatly for the superstition of others. He heard the scraping of branches against the walls, little claws grasping for him. Claws waiting to pull him into the abyss of death. He shivered.

It was so dark. So very, very dark.

Description
Devil’s Child

All was silent in the forest; moonlight filtered softly through the trees bathing the leaf-covered path in a soft, ethereal light. The peacefulness was broken when a ragged figure crashed through the undergrowth and thundered down the mossy path. Stumbling on a protruding tree root he collapsed to the ground. He lay there for a while, breathing heavily. Scratches covered his arms and there were a few on his face - evidence of his flight through the forest. Slowly he began to limp onwards, all of the adrenaline that had been driving him before draining away.

He froze as he heard the pounding of horses’ hooves; they were catching up with him. He started to run again though not as fast as before. He would run through the bushes again so as to slow his pursuers down but he no longer had the energy to fight the clawing branches.

He could hear the men’s cries now; they were getting closer; soon they would be upon him and the chase would be over. He started to run slower and slower, thinking how much easier it would be to give up, until finally he was walking. It wasn’t fair; they had no right to arrest him, just because of a birthmark.

He turned around and faced the horsemen, dirty brown hair falling into green eyes. All the men were wearing iron crosses to ward of the evil they wrongly thought was within the youth in front of them.

“For all that is holy you will submit to imprisonment, never to see the sun’s light again,” the man who appeared to be the leader nudged his horse forward. He spat on the ground in front of the boy, “You, Jared, son of David, have poisoned us with your evil for long enough.”

He did not struggle as the men bound his feet and ankles and dragged him off to his fate.

Jared stood in the centre of an angry mob, wrists and ankles shackled, his right shoulder laid bare so everyone could see the birthmark. The Devil’s mark as they liked to call it. The mayor stood slightly in front of him and the guards, addressing the village.

“This boy has been marked by the devil; he has cursed all of us and it is because of him that all our crops have died!” The mayor paced in front of the villagers talking passionately. “This is why I say we lock him in a windowless cell where God’s light cannot reach him. There he shall die and eventually rot away.”

“I say we burn him?” shouted and angry villager.

“ Or at least stone him!” called another, throwing a stone that hit Jared in the head, making a deep gash. Throughout all of this Jared just stood there, a resigned look in his eyes.

“Stop!” the mayor raised his hands. “ If we do that the remains of his flesh will spread and seep into the land. This way the evil will not be spread.”

With that the guards hauled Jared off to the already prepared cell and pushed him inside jeering at him the whole time.

“With you gone we can get on with our lives,” one of the guards said to him as he closed the door, shutting out the last trace of light.

Jared sighed, his shoulders slumping in despair: he had suffered greatly for the superstition of others. He heard the scraping of branches against the walls, little claws grasping for him. Claws waiting to pull him into the abyss of death. He shivered.

It was so dark. So very, very dark.