Short Prompt #1160
Music floated through the air as people danced around the fire, cheering and singing in victory. For so long, the town had been hunting the monster plaguing their forest. And now, finally, they have captured the beast!
The forest, however, was not thrilled to have lost its guardian. The forest was angry.
Laughter rang out, and music drifted through the air. It was sickening. There were far too many people gathered in the clearing - in fact, it had seemed like the entire village had gathered to celebrate what should be a solemn occasion. The forest desperately wished it could have tuned out the whoops and cheers from the villagers gathered round the fire. But alas, it could not.
Its guardian spirit was gone. Dead. And the forest was left there, still reeling from the shock, still feeling the sinking feeling of grief settle into its heart. And these bastards responsible for the death of the noble spirit were laughing and cheering about it. They were rubbing their sins into the forest’s metaphorical face.
“Finally, we’ve captured the foul beast!” Cried the mayor, and the leaves of the trees bristled. “Cheers, my brethren, for we shall no longer live in fear of it!”
…foul beast?
Was this what they thought of the forest spirit? That it was just some lowly beast? The forest looked upon the corpse in the clearing, beside the fire. The people had dragged its body out, through the mud, into the clearing where they were. A large spear was embedded in its eye, covered in dark blood. The forest remembered what happened - the spear was thrust into its eye, over and over again, leaving the great spirit crying out in pain, gouging its eye out. One strike, and it was blinded, sent stumbling back. Two strikes, and there was a sickening squelch. Three strikes, and its eye, still attached to a nerve, was embedded, broken and mauled, to the spear’s tip.
Gashes covered its corpse, leaving flesh exposed, and the plants and moss growing from its fur had shrivelled and wilted, covered in brown and red stains. Flies buzzed around the corpse, and all of the villagers had backed away from the horrid stench. All but one, at least; a tall man with a saw - the one who had brutally massacred the poor guardian - had the heel of his boot pressing into the head of the spirit, and was sawing its antlers off. He only saw the guardian as a prize. An animal to be hunted, a beast to kill and brag about. Did these people have no respect?
The birds had fallen silent, the wind had stopped blowing. Branches rustled ominously, despite the fact that there was no wind. Even though the forest was choked up with the stench of blood, the air thick to breathe, the villagers danced and cheered on, ignoring it - it was just the smell of the body, they had reasoned, ignoring how it permeated the entire area, and not just the land surrounding the corpse.
The villagers did not realise that they had lost the forest’s favour, and they definitely did not realise that their sin would come back to haunt their isolated little settlement in the coming winter.
Oh hell yeah
