just discovered this gem of a game, and i encourage everyone who likes indie horror games to give "Sorry we're closed" a shot! It's available on steam! I wanted to make a little tribute to it! I truly hope more ppl will try it out (music is from the official game ost!!!) thank you @cbedfordart for making it!
Summery: You lived exactly as you were supposed to. You said your prayers by night. Married the correct man and filled your time as a homemaker. Everything as you were told, yet none of it could prevent the war reaching your doorstep. Forcing you to flee your constructed reality. Straight into the past you left to rot in the woods.
Content Tags/Warnings: DEAD DOVE, Allusions to SA, Slight Gore, Captor/Captive, Eventual Smut, Dubcon, Horror Themes, Childhood Friends to Strangers to lovers
A/N: This will be a very self-indulgent Dark Fic. I will add to the tags as they come.
The sun falls like a guillotine. Its last vestiges of light illuminating your path as you slink through the wood. Pine needles fall onto your shoulders as you push branches out of your way. The red forest was dense, a horrid maw—your only salvation.
Your footfalls are tentative and unsteady. In your haste to escape you had shoved on your husband's hunting boots. The laces are still undone, and the soles twice your size. Paired with the fact you weren’t even a runner on your best day these boots were life threatening. If you were thinking clearer perhaps you would take them off. Endure the forest floor with your bare feet, but the light dust of snow had you far too worried about frostbite. As if you would survive that long.
In the distance, the boisterous sounds of soldiers echoed through the trees. Hounds on a fox trail. Barking for the thrill of the chase.
Yet you would not be barreling through the trees like a spooked deer; you had to be clever. You knew these woods better than them. You knew they were strangers, and the forest would treat them as such, but would it be kind to you?
The canopy above darkens. The last rays of the sun fade behind you. As you struggle to make out the overgrown path in front of you the sounds of men grow closer. Too close.
How? Were your tracks so easy to follow? Had the forest forsaken you? Gripping at the jagged bone hanging from your necklace, you prayed under your breath pleas that you would live. Words of worship falling do the dirt beneath your boots.
Moving along branches dig into the fabric of your sleeves. The foliage grows thicker. Holding your skirt aloft could not even save it from the grasping branches. Bark-laden fingers trying to drag you back. Pulling you away from the path. Perhaps you should listen, but how could you? The only thing your mind could focus on were all the things that could happen to you if you were caught.
Dogs will hunt.
Until the rabbit hangs limp from its jaws.
Are the trees getting closer together? Unable to stay low to the ground, the bush too thick, you were forced onto your feet. Looking around it was dark. Too dark, you could barely make out your hands in front of you. Your chest rises and falls as you try to get your bearings. Your body twisting this way and that, not even the moon could pierce the branches above you. Was the moon even out tonight? Were there ever stars in the sky?
An inexplicable terror fills your bones. The darkness is suffocating. Standing still as thoughts begin to swirl around in your head. In your head? Or were the trees whispering to you?
‘Where are you going?’
‘Are they close?’
‘They have to be.’
‘you can hear them.’
‘I can hear them.’
‘You can hear them’
‘I can hear them right behind me.’
A hot huff of air blows a strand of hair into your face. Your body goes rigid, sweat beading down the back of your neck. As you listen. The sound of air huffing. In then out. Breathing? No. It was smelling you, inhaling your scent. An animal?
Out of the corner of your vision, you see a light, a lantern dancing around the trees. Without a thought you dart towards it, possessed by your fear. You barrel towards the beacon too afraid of the beast behind you to think of the dangers in front of you.
You can’t hear anything over the sound of your own heartbeat pounding in your ears but you know you're being chased. You can feel it. The aura of a predator. Reaching its claws towards your back. The lantern gets closer. Hope fills your chest. You can make it! You're gonna make it.
As you reach the ring of light, its glow warming your face, a gunshot rings out. Sliding to the floor you duck. Then it’s only a second before you discover your mistake. In front of you, with a lantern in his hand, stands a man dressed in uniform. His pistol raised right where you had been standing. It seems the rabbit has run straight into the jaws of the hound. You don’t stay a second longer as he yells over his shoulder, no doubt alerting his comrades that the hunt has ended.
Pushing yourself up to your feet you stumble forward. Once again sprinting into the unknown. Relying only on the adrenaline pumping through your muscles you barrel through branches. This time you can hear the footsteps rushing behind you. The light of their lantern is close enough to see in front of you.
Another shot and the bark of a tree explodes next to your head. Forcing you to pivot. A hard left that sends you straight into a thicket, thorns dig into your skin. Ripping at your clothes but you can’t stop. Tearing yourself through the clawing branches, the sounds of fabric ripping mix with the laughter of your pursuers. Finally, you feel your hand hit bare dirt. Digging your nails into the earth you clamber forward.
There’s no path ahead anymore but that doesn’t matter.
‘Need to get away.’
‘Need to run.’
Fear pushes you further. Your limbs grow numb, your breathing impossible to control but weakly you persist. Until you feel the trees open up. This is it. The forest is giving you a way forward.
One step, and you're straight back into the ground. Head slamming flat into the dirt and before you can even think a scream tears through your throat. Pain flares through your ankle, burning up your leg.
Twisting around you try to make sense of the sudden, searing pain in your ankle. However, the darkness doesn’t even allow you to see your oose and tugging your leg back only makes you cry harder. Fat tears of despair fall down your plump cheeks. Reaching down you feel for any blood but your fingers meet the cold texture of steel. Digging its jaws deep into the soft leather of the boot, puncturing your flesh.
‘This is it. You're caught.’
‘They’re going to kill you.’
‘They’re going to do worse than that.’
The voices chase you still. Furling the fear that grips your being. The steady thrum of dread that shields you from the pain.
Soft light begins to glow onto your pathetic figure. What a sight you must be. Covered in dirt. Bloodstained and unable to stop your desperate sobs. Shaking like a newborn lamb.
Light fills your vision. What should be a guiding star is now the beacon of your execution.
The hounds have finally reached you. Just as they always would. Just as they always had.
Three of them, dressed in army fatigues, burst out of the trees. Boxing you in. Only one of them held his gun aloft, pointing his pistol straight to your head. He stood in the center, the other two had weapons of their own. One a rifle hanging idly in his grasp. The third, holding a lantern of his own, gripped a knife in his fist. Each of them leering down at the prey in their grasp.
As your eyes darted between them they began speaking in a language foreign to you. Not speaking to you of course but with each other. Discussing something. Their body language was so casual it left your hair on end. The words didn't make sense, but they didn't need to. What else could they be talking about?? What other reason could they have to chase you so far? Your death would not be a swift one.
Leisurely the one with the knife begins sauntering towards you. Then something snaps in your brain. You scream again. Now in a fury as if that’s going to deter him. Spitting and hissing as a final act of self preservation. The man’s smile only widens. Cooing words at you as his leather-gloved hands reach towards you. Hands that would never touch you.
In a blink, you watch as a hatchet buries itself into the side of his cap. His wide eyes locked on yours still as he stumbled to the side. Gasping for words before falling to the ground. You can’t tear your gaze away. You stare as his hands still twitch. His lantern still clutched tightly in his grasp.
The soldiers behind the now corpse start yelling into the trees. Both now with guns at the ready, aimlessly pointing them into the shadows. You turn your head left. Then right, trying to get a glimpse of this new danger. Peering into the bush the lantern light just barely touches a few feet beside you.
An eerie silence descends on the red forest. Not even the sound of the wind through the trees to calm your nerves.
One of the soldiers creeps forward, shining his lantern deeper in. The light swallowed by the pitch black. He speaks in commands, you think as if ordering the shadows around him to surrender.
In front of you soldier with the rifle stands frozen, his grip on his gun too tight. You can see him trembling. He takes one step back then a great hand reaches out of the darkness. Gripping him by the hair and dragging him backwards. A scream pierces the air, the sounds of struggling. Then something that sounds of wet branches snapping.
To your left, you can hear the last soldier standing scream out, before shooting wildly into the bush. Releasing as many bullets as he can, the shots pounding through your skull until all you hear is clicking. You don’t look as the soldier desperately fumbles to reload. No, you can’t look away from the darkness in front of you. You shouldn’t.
‘Watch. Witness.’
Stalking into the light you see the face of a rabbit. A wooden mask splattered with blood affixed to the face of a hulking body. Towering over the scene. Muscles taut as they reveal themselves. The sleeves of their tattered shirt rolled up to the elbow, exposing the blood trailing up their forearm. A large wood cutting ax is held firmly in their hands, but the only thing you could focus on is its eyes. A pale blue that brings back memories of when you were a child. Of stories, your father would tell you. Of bodarks roaming the wood. Of the stryga that huntsmen
Lost in your admiration you flinch as the creature from the wood lunges forward. In two swift strides, it has him by the neck. The wood cutter's ax sunk deep into the muscle of his shoulder, as though it were only butter. He barely has time to scream before he’s thrown to the ground. The thing presses a bandaged foot down onto his chest, pinning him to the earth. A predator hovering over its prey. With his body pressed down the ax is yanked from his skin. The masked figure raises the weapon above their head and you suddenly realize it’s a woman. The ax swings down, cleaving his face in two.
You can’t bear to look anymore. Can’t bring yourself to open your eyes or even will your limbs to stop shaking. Your hand goes to your necklace. Trying to seek any form of comfort in your last moments. It goes quiet again, and you wait for the ax.
You feel something. Cold fingers brush softly against your calf. A sharp yelp escapes your throat. A knee-jerk reaction as you open your eyes and come face to face with the bloody rabbit mask. She’s crouched down next to your trembling body, you hadn’t even heard her get closer. She doesn’t acknowledge your scream, merely inspects the trap still locked onto your ankle. With her so close now you can make out the features of her face.
The mask covers all but her lips and jawline. Scars travel from beneath the bloody wood, marring her pale skin. One cuts straight through her top lip, pulling it up just enough for her canine to peak out. Your gaze drifts downwards, following the contours of her neck. More scars. All the way to where her broad shoulders are hidden beneath the ragged cotton of her shirt. Her clothes seem worn. They look like things men in the village would wear.
As you drift slowly back up to her face, pale blue eyes stare back at you, fixated on your features. Her head cocked to the side. As if she’s trying to figure something out.
A hum fills the silence. A lullaby. One that you’ve heard thousands of times as a child. She’s singing a lullaby under her breath. You're not sure how to react. Something about this fills you with a sense of peace. Some nostalgic feeling, from winter's past.
A dirt-covered hand reaches towards you. Moving the hair from your face. Gently, her fingers trace along the contours of your cheek. Mapping out your features. Delicately she trails a line down your neck, following the cord of your necklace. Towards your panting of your breast. Stopping at the small animal jaw dangling from your neck. Fingering the edges of its teeth.
She’s leaning over you now. Staring intently at the worn bone. Her steady breath fanning against your cheeks. She shifts and you feel her other hand brushes against your waist. At the sound of you gasp. As if you’ve burned her.
The lullaby cuts off, and for a moment you just stare at each other. Before her gaze darts to the ground and she seems almost… bashful, you think. Slowly your mind begins to come back to you. Thoughts racing as to what you should do. She wasn’t threatening you, in fact, she had saved you. Hope fills your chest once again.
Sparing a glance at the mutilated face of the fallen soldier behind her you hold onto that thought. Sitting up a little straighter you lean closer to her, tilting your head to meet her gaze.
“Help me, please.” Your voice is hoarse. Hardly able to speak above a whisper.
She looks at you. Startled. Like she was amazed that you could speak. She stares for a moment, long enough for you to worry about her intentions. That perhaps you were mistaken. That maybe you would meet the same fate as those men but she turns to look at the trap still clinging to your boot.
With a practiced hand, she presses down on the metal. A click and the jaws are released.
Relief floods your lungs as you're able to pull your leg back. The pain lingers but something stops it from fully reaching your brain. Perhaps the thick leather saved you from a broken bone, you hope. Leaning down you go to take off the boot. Desperate to know what lies beneath but a hand on your wrist stops you.
“Don’t.” The first word she says to you. Her voice is rough, harsh as the winter, and coarse as sandpaper. Sounding as if she’d never used it until this very moment.
Your hand stills as you stare up at her. Unable to deny the authority in her voice you can’t help but listen. Watching as she slides her hand up your arm. Goosebumps shoot up your skin. Her other arm scoops under your legs. Then before you can protest, she hauls you over her shoulder, careful of the pain in your leg.
The last thing you see is the corpses of the soldiers, fading into the red pines. Their remains swallowed by the earth as this strange woman whisks you away.
Women’s RIGHTS and women’s WRONGS!!!
After the survivors lineup, here’s the killers too!
These were a completely different challenge to stylize, from the survivors. The killers have a very specific silhouette established by their entire look, while survivors are…well, a lot of jeans and shirts in there, so it’s more about stylizing the hair and face!
It was also more of a challenge to get them to lineup nicely because there’s much bigger differences in height! Especially Plague…girl was a struggle.
blakekathryn
dededos
germansingergirl
origamiaround
stormborns
turnnoffyourmind
