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Flash Fictions and my darker short stories that chronicle the journeys of Virgil Solomon. |
| I'd spent a portion of my youth in the twisting hollers of Appalachia. Therein, I'd learned of the otherworldly oddities and aberrant curiosities that haunt the fleeting recesses of adolescent imagination. While others of Roanoke's young aristocracy learned law and finance, I spent my evenings in the company of those few tribal medicine men that suffered the ever encroaching maw of white man's imperialism. They taught me of the evils that lurk 'twixt the suffocating, snarled understories of the Appalachian weald. Wherein that abysmal darkness, the sailor's proverb was true : Here, there be monsters. Whence wendigos and uya stalk those unfortunate souls who've lost their way - or their nerve. My pompous, arrogant family and the colonists alike scoffed at the notion that we trespassed on sacred lands ; that those evil spirits would claim us. I however, heeded their words. That evening I spent the twilight ponderously tossing stones into Roanoke River. Thence came the fire, violet it was as it ripped through the heavens above, trailing a melody of scorn in its wake. It crashed through the roof of the barn and a malevolent aura ebbed and flowed through the cracks in the dilapidated boards as if drawing breath. The animals inside cawed and wailed a violent ruckus. As I inched closer, I Smelled blood - hate. The barn doors screamed on their hinges as they opened. There it stood over eviscerated carcasses with a coat of crimson streaked across its contorted frame. It howled a choir of vengeful voices as pale, blue eyes met mine, and I felt every joy, dream - every desire escape me. "The moon-eyed people have returned," the medicine man shakily whispered as he pulled me away and shoved me into the dark. "Run." I ran. Never looked back at what came of my family in Roanoke. Word Count- 300 The Moon eyed people are mentioned in Cherokee folklore as nocturnal creatures that lived in caves of the Appalachian Mountains. |
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