The Hollow Feast

The woods that were located behind our home were not only devoid of sound and light, but they were also an emptiness, a dark mouth that absorbed both. The sight of Ella sitting on the porch with her hands pressed to her ears and muttering about noises that were not human had always been one that seemed to captivate her. I considered her insane, yet I had seen her trembling in response to shadows that did not correspond to the trees. I ought to have escaped the home by setting it on fire.

It was a stifling, oily mist that did not waft but rather creeped in on that chilly November night. It arrived with the fog. It smelled like rotting matter and something that had been there for a long time; it burnt my throat like acid. The trees disappeared, and in their stead was a wall of mist that writhed and pulsed like to the beating of a heart. Ella screamed that the voices were hurting her and ripping her apart as she scratched at her face, leaving blood streaks behind her. The air within became foul and thick, like if I were breathing through a body, despite the fact that I had secured the doors.

We were plunged into a darkness that was so dense that it crushed on my eyes as the lights flickered and then went out. After then, the noises started making their way throughout the house. They were damp, dragging thumps that were interrupted by a tapping that was not random but rather regular and intentional, like a code that I did not want to comprehend. Taking hold of a flashlight, I watched as its feeble illumination cut through the mist that was outside. When I looked over, I saw them.

There was no sign of life. As towering, skeletal husks with skin that sagged and split, they revealed nothing but bottomless blackness underneath them. They were unmade. Every movement caused their limbs to snap and twist backward and forward, shedding a dark ichor that hissed on the ground. Their limbs were too lengthy and twisted in both directions. The most deplorable aspect of their heads was that they were elongated and eyeless, and their lips were not mouths but rather gashes that leaked tar and opened and closed without making any sound. One of them forced itself against the glass, and its face began to split wider. I swear that I saw my reflection in the space where its eyes should have been.

"I have them inside of me!" Ella let out a terrifying scream, her voice breaking up into a cacophony of croaking wails. Her nose and lips were both dripping with blood as she proceeded to gouge her head through. Eventually, the tapping became into a hammering sound, and the walls began to shake as fissures began to appear in the plaster, releasing a thick, putrid muck. The murmurs struck me at that moment; they were not words, but rather a violation, a stream of foreign agony that was into my mind. Some of the sights that they showed me were caves that were located under the forest and were devoid of light. These caverns were filled with writhing figures that fed on themselves, hollowed out by a hunger that never ceased. "We belong to the emptiness. To me, you are the meat. Help us out."

As I took Ella upstairs, her body was limp and writhing, and her skin was flaking off in wet clumps wherever I touched her or touched her body. The steps behind us creaked as they buckled beneath a weight that was supposed to be there but was not. The next thing that happened was the gurgling, which was deep and phlegmy, like lungs drowning in oil. The odor of it, which was a mixture of bile and iron, suffocated me. I pushed furniture against the door of the bedroom, but the walls began to pulse and split apart, revealing tendrils that were made of sinew and were reaching for us. They were moving and shimmering with life.

Splinters flew at me as the door smashed inward, pinning me to the ground. The chamber was filled with a cacophony of cracking bones and ripping flesh as they poured in, dozens upon hundreds of them, their bodies folding and unfolding as they entered this area. Ella was taken by one of them, and its tendrils caused her chest, eyes, and mouth to be punctured. As her body began to disintegrate, strands of muscle and bone began to spool into its empty center, she did not scream but rather laughed, making a sound that was moist and bubbling. The very last thing I saw was her face, which had become one of them and was stretched out to an impossible degree.

I have no idea how I managed to make it through the night. Since the fog had dissipated, the home was left in a deteriorating state, and the air was heavy with the reverberation of their hunger. Ella had vanished, and with her, everything else.

Now it has returned. The fog is not only covering the forest; it is also present inside the home, where it is leaking through the floorboards and wrapping itself around my legs. A persistent rhythm that is synchronized to my heartbeat is the tapping that is occurring within my head. I am experiencing a peeling of my skin, which revealed dark veins that writhed like worms. Now that I am the one who is hearing the whispers, my voice is breaking apart as I utter their words: "I am empty." It is necessary for me to eat."

When I look into the corners of my vision, I see them. It is me, but it is not me. My body is stretched and hollowed out, and my face is a gaping hole. The knife that I am holding shakes, although it is not intended for use in combat. In order to remove what is left, it is for the purpose of providing it to them. My name is being yelled out by the forest, and I am so filled with hunger and emptiness that I am unable to differentiate between myself and them.