"Don't worry, I got you."
Day 4 of Fictober and I'm trying my hand at some spooky X-Files shit.
Prompt #2 - "Don't worry, I got you."
The muddy earth sloshed beneath their feet. Last night’s rain surely washed away most of the evidence, but Mulder insisted on seeing the body, ritualistically posed, immediately. A cloud of mist persisted in the dense forest, but the agents pressed onward toward the crime scene.
They reached a clearing where the body lay untouched.
“It’s right through there,” said the young officer acting as their guide.
Scully thanked her and began examining the mutilated body, Mulder close on her heel.
The victim was young, maybe in his late teens or early twenties, and splayed out on a large rock. His was cut open, his insides draped and adorned him like fine clothes. The putrid stench that filled the air of the clearing was inescapable.
Mulder immediately turned away in disgust, a hand to his mouth and nose blocking the smell. Instead, he examined the surrounding area for clues, keeping as far away from Scully and the victim as possible.
“Well, it’s just like the other ones,” Scully said, coming up behind him and removing her gloves. “The body is posed in the same manner. Same M.O. as before, right down to the crown of intestines.”
This was the fourth killing of this nature, but Mulder grimaced every time. “How long has he been here?”
“I’d say a few days, maybe a week. This is a pretty remote location. We’re pretty deep in the woods.”
Yeah, if that hiker hadn’t stumbled upon this, who knows how long it wouldn’t taken to find him.”
Mulder called to the local law enforcement to have the body sent to a Dr. Dana Scully at the F.B.I. A special gift, just for her.
“What about you?” she asked. “Find anything?”
“Just like the other ones,” he echoed. He put a hand to the small of her back and led her to a set of flat rocks on the edge of the clearing. She shivered under his touch.
On the rocks there were candles with a wreath of leaves and flowers, an ornate silver crucifix, and scattered salt. Same as before. Scully nodded and walked around the makeshift witch’s table, taking in the whole picture.
“What is it?” Mulder asked.
Scully shook her head and circled the rocks, looking contemplative. Mulder, unsure of what to look for, followed behind.
Without warning Mulder was on his back, taking Scully down with him. She fell onto his chest. His breath was heavy and ragged from the fall, blowing her hair with each exhale. They stared at one another in a moment of surprise.
Scully apologized, pushing awkwardly off his chest in an effort to climb off him. Mulder stood beside her brushing dirt off his tailored suit.
“What happened,” she asked, with genuine concern.
“I’m not sure. There was some…”
But then he lost his balance again, his arms flailing.
“Don’t worry, I got you,” Scully said, reaching out to steady him. He caught her arm, finding his balance.
“Uneven ground,” he finished.
The agents bent to investigate the area beneath their feet. Next to them was a patch of sticks and leaves, more heavily concentrated than the rest of the clearing.
“Mulder,” Scully said urgently. “You’re bleeding.”
She pointed to a trail of blood on his left hand.
“I didn’t even feel it,” Mulder said.
Together she and Mulder unearthed a slightly buried dagger with a short, leather-bound handle, and discovered that Mulder had tripped on a large hole covered by forest debris. A human trap. And a folded piece of paper.
As an officer approached them to ask about Mulder’s fall, Scully noticed Mulder slip the paper into his pocket. She held his gaze, but didn’t say anything.
“So what did you find?” Mulder said by way of greeting when Scully walked through the office door. She set down her bag and two coffees. He grabbed one.
“Nothing unusual. For this case,” she emphasized, sitting opposite Mulder.
“I did some research on some of the witch material we found yesterday.
“Witch?” Scully arched a brow.
Not to be discouraged by Scully’s questioning, he continued. “The dagger is called an athame. It’s used in rituals, to command spirits and direct energies. In the Satanic arts.”
“Mulder…” Scully interrupted.
“But there was also the crucifix and salt,” Mulder continued. “Someone cast a protection spell. There were two forces at work.”
Mulder nodded. “Exactly.”
“What about the paper?” Scully inquired.
“That,” Mulder said, taking the paper from his jacket pocket and placing it on the desk in front of Scully, “is up for debate. This drawing is of the Romanian Muma Padurii, or Mother of the Forest. She is known as an ugly old woman who can transform her body. An urban folk legend used to scare children into being good.”
“Be good, kids, or the Boogie Monster will get you.”
“She lives in a dark little house in the forest,” he continued, “and kidnaps children to enslave them.”
“Or murder them,” Scully offered.
“Or maybe protect them,” he countered.
“Or a seriously disturbed person, inspired by Eastern European folklore, wants to make this look like witch’s ritual killing.”
“No, I think this witch is casting protection spells against a Satanist,” Mulder said.
“So, how do we find a shape-shifting witch?”
“I’m so glad you asked,” Mulder said, smiling. “There are a large number of spells that can be used to defeat her, according to legend. Or, in our case, find her.”
“Get out your crystal ball, Scully. We’re going to find a witch!”