literature

Delver of The Unknown.

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Momentous dread loomed thick over the nearly untouched and seemingly lifeless moorlands to the north, a powerful dread even sunlight could not cleanse that murky sea of amethyst and violet upon the water-logged soils. Faint haunting murmurs could be heard on moonless nights when the jet winged omens roosted on high around the unused gates and that old dirt road that led through those dismal fog-choked forbidden moorlands. A single feeble sign stood of fearful ignorance to warn of a mysterious yet misunderstood danger past the lumber walls of the village, commanding any fool turn back unless they fall victim to that unknown that best be left well enough alone.

That place deemed not worth a farmer's hoe or even a plot for the failed fort an elder once wished to erect upon that accursed ground. Overlooking the weathered gate from atop a hill stood that pathetic abandoned hollow roundhouse frame of unsecured stones, the thick timber beams left without protective straw roofing. Very few of the villagers ventured through the moorlands without disappearing, so lads and lassies would be told tails of unimaginative monstrous things said to wonder those foggy lands beyond the safety of home. Yet those crudely constructed bogies of fairy-tail be not nearly as truly strange as what actually lurks out in the mists of vastly deep time, for little could they had known the ancient things that lay unearthed as they turned a blind eye to that avoided expanse.

However, there was one who braved that foreboding place who many shrank from in their fears. She who one who many of the elders wished to silence, for they trembled from what they viewed as her unexplained madness. For it was rumored that she spoke to beings none must ever name aloud unless they seek their own inescapable doom. She was known by many simply as the Moorland Witch, a cryptic young woman who lived at the very farthest south edge of Kaylik village. Few knew how long she had dwelt there or where she truly originated, and none really know her in any personal manner either. With no known family ties and no obvious comrades to speak of she felt too many as an anomaly of some sort, an outsider who had lingered for unknown reasons.

Deemed the rambler of otherworldly blasphemies against the revered voice of the sun, the sun shrine sisterhood shunned that foul witch who only came out at day's end for her unspoken nocturnal practices. As time passed, however, some noticed the absence of her peculiar whisperings down the cobblestone streets with her birdcage lantern in hand. Rumor that she went to dwell in the moorlands that dreadful place of unknown remains, other rumors told that perhaps she fled to wait while an unknown monstrosity amassed outside the village, as there were also rumors that she had died from some mysterious thing she had conjured through the frightening practices many thought she often indulged in.

In her long absence, one dared brave treading the shunned grounds of the haunt of the Moorland Witch. A young ginger-haired lass nearing the threshold of womanhood entered that lonely house on the edge of the village, that gloomy dwelling that housed winged ebony omens. Greeted by creaky floorboards, wax caked windowsills, dusty aroma, a jewel of resin holding an arboreal reptile, and a wide open door in the center of the house that led to a hole in the floor. All seemed somewhat well until the young lass noticed strange writings on all of the timber walls, and crammed words of some desecrated language cluttered over the old wood. Scattered scrolls draped over displaced thick dusty tomes with missing pages, and bleached bone shards lay at her feet. Curious the young lass tried to read the abandoned scribbling only for some of the odd words to mysteriously become eligible to her after a few moments.

The names of ancient beings sprung from her nervous lips as the lass stranded to pronounce them in her native tongue. Was then that one after the other the alien names Rabandos, Deighorien, Impirhamf, Woolunggreus, Ausdaka and many unusual names graced her straining lips. Some names were clearly shaped from differing dialects she never knew, while others were muddled from her understanding of her own native speech. Dread swiftly filled the young lass while she felt that many unseen slouching figures surround her from out of the smothering darkness. Disembodied skulls of unknown creatures emerged singing wordless songs, their disturbing voices weaving violently vivid eldritch imagery. Frightened beyond belief from the sudden overwhelming knowledge and uncontrollably uttering the young lass quickly turned for the door to flee, when she suddenly noticed the shadowy visage of the long-haired witch who stood ominously within the threshold.
I wrote this story in 2016. It was inspired by a song from a solo artist. I hope that you all enjoy it :iconbowplz:.

Also, this story could be linked to some of my other short stories ;).
© 2016 - 2024 TheArchosaurQueen
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Kazuma27's avatar
Cool, it has a really good vibe!