I Have Seen The Future

Every dusk was always the same.

The creatures stirred from their slumber as the sun sat just above the horizon. Their tremulous cries warned any human still alive to find shelter, promising that they would not live to see another morning otherwise. Moving only during the day was a necessity, as the evil beasts were curiously averse to the sun. The night, however, belonged to them and their bloodlust.

My party of survivors started as twelve, dwindling over the months since the world as we once knew it stopped turning. It was my father and I in the end, and now, only myself. Mere weeks ago he was lost to me, but it felt as if it was only yesterday I saw him take his last breath beneath the creature I’d killed only seconds too late.

The day that everything changed was sometime in November, by my guess. I’d wandered the countryside for hours, foraging on wild berries and weeds. For a time, I’d pursued a rabbit, but I expended too much energy trying and eventually gave up.

I was headed north, always. We had observed the creatures slow in speed as the year grew colder, and it was my father’s hope that they couldn’t survive in the harsh winter any more than they could the sun. Initially, we sought to find the coast, but the coming snow seemed a promising ally, and so we journeyed north hoping to find sanctuary.

I often wondered if he would still be alive had we stayed our original course.

My father told me of a lighthouse he visited when he was a boy and he thought such a place would be ideal to seek refuge. He theorized it would be a safe distance away from land to protect us and provide as a perfect watchtower. It was a shot in the dark trying to find a lighthouse that wasn’t already occupied or surrounded by creatures, but finding one gave us purpose, which was something that had been lost to us as our humanity waned. With him gone, that purpose was the only thing I had left.

I was lucky to find shelter when I did that day, just as the sunlight was fading. Down in a valley lay an old ruin I had been nearing for some time. Circular battlements surrounded high towers, and overgrown fields engulfed the perimeter. Beyond that were trees on nearly every side, leaving the only real escape the same way I had come. It was a gamble being so close to the forests, but it had its advantages; it was, after all, a castle made of stone, built to be a stronghold once upon a time. The battlements would be the perfect place to see anything approaching from the woods, which was an undeniable advantage.

The castle grew more foreboding the closer to it I came. Even from a distance, I could see its magnitude, but once I came to walk its causeway—the only safe way in—I felt truly small. The world as it was had a way of making a person feel insignificant, so it was a feeling I encountered often, but had not grown used to.

When I came upon the great carved doors, I feared there would be creatures inside, or even hostile humans. It had been a long time since I’d seen another person. As time went on, the beasts seemed to grow in numbers, and the humans disappeared. It had been maybe three weeks since last I saw another face - my father’s face.

Distantly, I could hear the creatures’ calls, alert and waiting for the sun to die out completely so they could feed. It made my skin crawl. Better to take my chances with humans, should there be any.

Slowly, I pressed my ear to the door, trying to hear anything but the faint snarling that hummed throughout the canyon. Inside, I heard nothing.

Nothing was promising.

The iron door handle was as long as my arm, and one lurch was not enough. I pulled with both hands and all my weight the second time, but still could not make it move. The sounds of my fate grew louder as the sunlight dimmed, and though I did not often panic, I felt it surge inside me in warning.

I’d spent too much time with that damned rabbit and too little time planning for the night. In desperation, I ran around the walls looking for an in, but the turrets were so high, the walls without flaw, that there was no place for me to infiltrate such a magnificent fortress.

I dropped the pack from my shoulder and the metal bowl at the very bottom clanged against the rocks on the ground and echoed into the trees. The horizon showed so little light now that I could feel death already coming for me.

I tore through my belongings until I found a rope, and when I did, it was an impossible thing trying to tie a proper knot. My fingers were unsteady and my brain could not make sense of what I was trying to do. I was damp with sweat, so nervous I could scarcely breathe.

The forest lines had yet to be breached, but I knew the creatures were just inside, watching and waiting.

Finally, when I’d managed the knot, I threw the rope recklessly toward the battlement’s merlons, stone that jutted toward the sky in intervals. My only hope was to hook one and pull myself up. But each throw was more abysmal and frantic than the last. I couldn’t get the rope to surge high enough, or at just the right angle. It felt impossible the more I tried, and I wanted to scream, until finally the loop caught.

I pulled the rope taut to test its hold, and every tight nerve in my body uncoiled with the small victory. As quickly as I could manage, I thrust every scattered thing on the ground back into my bag. Just as I was tying it shut, I saw movement in the distance.

The sun was gone.

They were coming.

I clambered up the rope, kicking against the wall for leverage. Strength had come to me over the months, as a necessity. There were trees to climb, rocks, caves - the creatures could jump, but they couldn’t climb. It was their only small mercy to us who were vulnerable.

The thunderous stampede had begun, and my heart stammered as I climbed. My hands were callused, but they were no match for the splintered rope that cut and burned. Frantically, I pulled, and I kicked, and I climbed high into the air.

When I dared to look, they were twenty yards off, maybe, and I was dangling like easy prey. Adrenaline surged through my body and my will, and I cried out as I jerked myself upwards; it was a cry silenced by their pandemonium.

The creatures were nearly to the castle, running at breakneck speed on all fours. They were hideous things with waxy charcoal skin, sharp teeth, and had neither ears nor tails. They were a true abomination.

With one final, desperate lurch, I made it to the top of the wall. And with that same heft, the stone my rope was secured around eagerly gave way.

My searing hands caught the crenel at the top of the wall, just in time to save me from disaster. I watched as the rope fell and landed in the crowd of creatures that had finally come. They lunged at it, and the rock that had given way fell just after, hitting one in the head. The sudden interruption was met with hostility as the one who had been struck attacked its nearby brethren.

It was a momentary distraction and I used it to my advantage. With the last bit of dying strength I had, I scrambled to pull myself up and over the wall.

In agony, I fell ungracefully onto the cold stone floor of the battlements. Tears sprang to my eyes as my nerves calmed at once. I was safe for the moment, but I still had to move. Sitting high upon the castle was not where I wanted to be for the night, just out of reach of those monsters. They would likely claw at the walls until they caved in and fell, serving me up as their dinner.

I got to my feet and winced. The climb made every muscle in my shoulders and arms burn in pain, and my palms were shredded.

The battlements were connected around the main structure of the castle by narrow walkways. As I carefully stepped across them, I couldn’t help but look down below over the castle wall. The creatures noticed my movement and their black eyes peered at me as they followed my every move from the ground below in anticipation. It was a motion made in unison, as if they were working with a singular mind. The sight was deeply unnerving.

As I circled the castle, I came to the back and found a wooden door. It, too, was carved, but not so intricately as the main doors. I held my breath as I pulled the handle and was shocked to find that it opened with ease.

Inside, there was nothing but darkness. I pulled my father’s engraved cigarette lighter from my pack, and cautiously proceeded inside. I could stomach the dark, so long as I was alone in it.

Down I went on a spiraling staircase, step by slow step. The place was damp and reeked of mildew, but it was not so unpleasant I might turn around and take my chances outside. It was also surprisingly warm.

As I descended, I noticed there was something on the wall, and I held the lighter close to take a better look. It was a crude picture that had been painted in black and a deep crimson. On the opposite wall, a painting of the sky raining fire.

There were pictures of the creatures, then as I ventured further down, of a woman. A battle was depicted there, with bloodshed all around, and a single victor—the same woman, it seemed—standing atop a pile of dead creatures. She was tall and red-haired and with a sword in hand.

The last picture is what made me take pause. It was a large painting, this one in a golden yellow, of a heart-shaped locket. It was not unlike the one my father gifted to me, that hung around my neck. I felt for it under my coat, just to make sure it was still there.

From the corner of my eye, I glimpsed a flickering light emanating from the bottom of the staircase, and my gut clenched. I pulled the knife from my boot and slowly rounded the final loop. I stopped in my tracks when I faced a horde of disheveled humans waiting beyond the last step holding torches and archaic weapons. They were a menacing lot.

No one spoke for a moment. I swallowed hard, certain the hour of my death had finally come. I could fight well, but not against a mob armed with swords and maces, and myself with only a mere dagger.

But in a strange twist of fate, the old crone that stood in the middle of the crowd, smiled. Bones were matted in her hair, her gnarled fingers wrapped around a dark staff, and she wore raiment that was reminiscent of a woodland witch from an old fairytale. She didn’t look pleasant, but the smile softened her crinkled eyes.

“Finally, you’ve come,” she said warmly. “We’ve been expecting you.”

I said nothing, as confused as I was concerned.

She motioned to the walls around me. I glanced at more paintings, some the same as before – the victorious woman, the heart-shaped locket, the sword.

“I have seen the future,” the crone declared, “And you are the one who will lead us to it.”