Truth

Fawn slowly moved in a little closer, through a broken board hole, concealing herself in the darkened corner of a crude rafter to hear what they were conversing about. The words came through clearly, as though she hadn’t heard anything like it before.

The start and stop of each word thumped and landed heavy on her ears, making the task of listening something she would only tolerate for the bare minimum of time. What she could manage to listen to made the group’s meaning all too clear. She heard them mumbling.

“She has to be found, a defiance like this cannot stand, and the Cast will take it out on us. I won’t have that, she’s just a dirty, horrid, Girl Child. I will turn her in as soon as I can, maybe after I have my own fun with her.”

The angry looking older man speaking gave Fawn an awful feeling. She could smell him from where she was hidden, a sour and musky smell. She couldn’t make sense of it. This was not an odor she had encountered before and the effect on her was significant. She had to repress a gag as he moved around and waved his arms.

One of the women in the group seemed to take exception to something he said. Her face contorted into a look of disgust and judgment.

“You would say something like that Bez, you Creton. We have enough of Breeding Play forced on us by the Cast, we need no more from the likes of you!”

What did he mean by fun?

Fawn was still under informed in life, but was catching up quickly. She had heard of the Breeding Play that women were forced to participate in, although she had no idea what any of that meant. Even so, the tone of the older pungent male had certainly confirmed that she had no want to find out what it was.

Next, a younger man spoke up.

“I think we should just bring her back for the Cast to play with, imagine the reward they would grant us!”

He seemed pleased with himself, as though he had already been rewarded.

The woman retaliated.

“Do you know what they will do to that little girl, do you?!”

She seemed somewhat concerned about the fate they were discussing.

“They will hang her, no doubt, but they will most certainly play with her first until she is wounded and bleeding. They care not for her age ... have you seen a Girl Child hung? Have you?!”

The rest of the group were surprised at her reaction. Her partner stepped toward her.

“Shush now Lil, this is not the time nor place to protest the ways of our home.”

He took her arm firmly and pulled her back from the circle, intent on making her quiet.

Although she had tears in her eyes, Lil took a deep breath.

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“I know we have to hand her in, we will all suffer if we don’t but ... we need not enjoy the action.”

She finished looking at the two men who had spoken and aroused her thorough distaste.

Finally, the previously silent male spoke, his voice slow and deliberate, his hair longer than the others and tied in a braid down his bare back, evident as he turned and paced. His body was well developed, the muscles of his arms and back clearly those of a combatant, his face that of a strong believer and eyes pin focused, those of a hunter.

“Listen to me. We must find and deliver her, but nowhere does it suggest that we must force her to Breeding Play, nor should we expect anything in return for her delivery.”

He was staring intently at the two males who spoke first. The older, foul smelling one bowed his head and stepped back, while the younger one grew an angry, indignant look.

“You are not my director, I shall want as I please, and I will absolutely take playtime from her body if I feel like it. You cannot stop me.”

He steps forward and reveals a razor knife, not unlike the one Fawn is still carrying.

Suddenly, the more composed of the males tries to intervene.

“Jund! No! You know the heritage of the Ohun Clan, he will wound you, maybe worse.”

The long-haired Hunter steps toward the man called Jund.

“One chance I will give you, otherwise your regret is not my concern.”

Jund draws himself up.

“No. I give YOU one chance otherwise ... I will take your family girls for my own playtime. Now step back!”

The Ohun develops a darkened look to him, as if the words threatening his girl children fell directly from the knife brandished by Jund. He steps further forward.

“No ... further ... chances.”

Jund lunges at him, all intent to stab the razor knife through the Hunter's heart, but the move falls short: poorly timed and badly aimed.

Lil covers her eyes.

“Oh no ... ”

The knife misses its mark as the Ohun slips from where he was, to where he needs to be in one flawless step.

He is outside Jund’s right hand now, and with enough swift accuracy as to cause immediate horror in Jund’s eyes, he ignores the knife and simply reaches behind the weaker man, and holds his right shoulder blade.

The now terrified Jund is held fast, preventing him from moving his weapon-arm anymore.

Jund wails as he feels the fingertips of the Ohun tear into the skin on his back. He desperately tries to move himself away, then he feels another hand at his rib cage.

With slow extraordinary power, the Ohun grasps his lowest rib, and gradually pulls it outward, cracking cartilage and bone beneath his skin, with terrible purpose.

Jund screams as he feels his body being torn, its every part clenching and wrenching away to try to preserve itself.

“Please! I’ll give you—”

The Ohun replies with nothing, and reaches for the next rib, slowly taking hold of it as the blood pools under Jund’s skin and turns the whole area a darkened red.

Another scream rattles out of Jund as he feels his ribs snapping like green branches against the force of the Ohun. His shoulder blade comes away from its joint as he flails in abject desperation to escape, to no avail.

Jund is screaming in a constant sound of horrendous gargling, building in volume as the blood pool beneath his flesh grows large enough to obstruct his lungs.

His expression is now one of sorrow, desperation and pleading.

“Mother! Help me!”

Finally, the Ohun reaches a third rib and begins to drag it from its rightful place, slowly outward alongside the others.

Jund’s voice is an ear-splitting gargling scraping sound, with only a mixture of ‘please!’ and ‘mother!’ discernible.

As the third rib comes out to match the other distorted bones of Jund’s torso, the Ohun looks at him directly and grasps it, snapping it with his thumb, finally tearing it through the skin—spilling blood and marrow out through the grievous wound.

While Jund makes final, frantic efforts to prevent it, the Ohun forces the broken bone back through muscle, tissue and lung, into the desperate, crying man’s heart. Not enough to stop the heart immediately––just enough to lacerate it awfully.

The unbelievable pain takes over Jund’s senses. However, because he is being held and constantly shaken, horrifyingly, he does not pass out.

His unintelligible, bloodcurdling screams continue as his body bleeds to death.

–Garrick M Lynch–