The trees sped past as he ran. His heart was beating in his chest as he forced his way through the undergrowth, the path ahead barely lit by a few stray rays of moonlight that broke through the canopy. Behind him, in his ears and in his heart he still heard it.
Laughter
He had never meant to see her, never meant to stumble in that clearing and to see her dance amidst the tall grass and cobwebs. Why hadn't he listened to his parents? He should never have gone out this late at night. Not with a full moon. Not with a clear, starry sky. His mother had told him they loved to dance underneath it!
And yet he had entered the forest, in search of herbs. To check on his traps. Traps he should never have said in the first place! The forest belonged to them!
He had always thought them to be a fairy tale, that they were naught but creatures of myth and legend. A leftover from times when man didn't know better.
He fell, tripping over a root. He crashed into the wet, damp earth, branches tearing at his clothes as if the very forest itself refused to let him go. He scampered to his feet, looked behind him. He saw a glimpse of white. A flash of long, blonde hair. And again it sounded. That beautiful, horrifying laugh!
His mouth fell dry as he thought back to the sight. As he curiously, like a blinded idiot, stumbled out of the bush to look at the source of that laugh. That bewitchingly, attractive laugh.
He had seen her. Dancing in the moonlight. Gazed upon her mesmerising golden locks as they trailed behind her, glittering in the moonlight. As her feathery, white gown flowed around her lithe body, carried on the breeze in the dark of night, reflecting the pale stars far above. He had stood there, rooted to the ground, unable to tear his eyes away from her. From her dance and her beauty. With but a single look she had him captivated. Never before had he seen a woman so regal, so kind, so elegant, so majestic. Then she had stopped. She had seen him, turned towards him and looked at him with those large blue eyes, deep as the waters of the pond. Eyes full of wonder, curiosity, love and lust. Eyes full of mystery, as blue as the ice of the north when winter came. Eyes of unparalleled beauty. Eyes of death. She took a step towards him, gracefully stretched out her arm and pointed towards him and he felt her tug on the very strings of his heart, felt her draw his soul away from his body and towards herself. He screamed and she laughed, a haunting sound that cut through his flesh as the wind carried it between the trees, whistling the dark tunes into the night.
He had turned and ran, screaming, begging her to spare him.
He was almost out of the forest, just needed to clear the last stretch and the final cliffs. He started the climb, didn't feel his fingers break on the rocks or the blood streaming out of his cuts. He had to run. Had to get away. Again he heard it, her laugh. He climbed faster, almost at the top. Then he saw her. In front of him. Her wide eyes staring at him innocently, his death spelled out in those agonisingly blue orbs, her beauty cutting into the deepest part of his being. Come, she whispered with a voice as sweet as honey as she offered him her hand. He reared back, lost his footing. Fell. He landed hard, felt his arm twist, then break. He saw her look at him, her white gown waving calmly in the wind. She called out to him, a painfully beautiful smile on her face, soul devouring worry coming from her lips. He willed his ears close, tried to shut out the voice from consuming his heart before he would succumb with want. He felt the urge to climb the cliffs again, to go up to her, take her in his arms. He refused. He couldn't! He wouldn't! He thought of Rumena, his wife. He gritted his teeth and got up.
He ran, clutching his wounded arm. There was another route. Longer. Safer. Away from her. He had to warn his parents. Had to warn his wife. The samovila was coming. He entered the darker part of the forest, the trees so close together their crowns formed an impenetrable canopy even the light of the moon could not break through. Hot tears ran down his face. He didn't feel them. He fell again, didn't notice the bone of his arm breaking through his skin nor the blood seeping out of the wound. He screamed, howled not in pain but in fear and desperation, the emotions lending him strength to run faster and faster and still he heard it. The samovila's laugh. He started to turn, forced himself to look forward, into the darkness. Imagined her white gown floating out in front of him, her blue eyes gazing upon him from behind the trunk of a tree, her long, blonde hair surrounding her like a halo of light that brightened the dark of night. He ran.
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Finally he was out of the forest. He could see the village. See his house. He screamed, loud, hoping to wake his wife. His parents. The neighbours! Anyone! He heard the laugh again, from closer this time. He turned around, realising his mistake too late. He saw her at the edge of the forest, looking at him with love and longing. He screamed in a mix of want and fear. Willed himself to look away. He failed. He couldn't. Couldn't bring up the strength. Couldn't bring himself to tear his eyes of her beauty, to stop looking at this beautiful demon. She blew him a kiss and disappeared into the forest., her laugh trailing behind her, before slowly fading away.
No, he thought. Had she left? A samovila didn't leave. They never left. Yet had she... He turned around, saw lights coming on in the village. Heard the dogs bark. Voices of men, not that haunting sound. He missed that sound. Wanted to hear her again. Her sweet voice. To see those rosy lips move, imagine them on his own. No. He shook his head, ran towards the house. Towards Rumena. Towards his parents. The remaining distance shrank. In the distance he saw the other villagers coming his way. He screamed towards them. Tried to warn them of the samovila, but only feral howls came out. It didn't matter. They were coming. He was safe now.
Then he entered his house, bursting through the back door.
Rumena was there. So were his parents. He saw his parents first, hanging from the ceiling, their bodies taut and rigid, their eyes wide open in abstract fear, looking at him. Their fingers were covered in blood, deep cuts gauged in their necks. He heard the soft ticking as droplets of blood ran down their bodies, soaked their clothes and slowly fell to the ground.
Then he saw her. Rumena. His darling wife. Her hands clinging to a knife. A knife that was buried in her chest. A chest that no longer moved. Her eyes weren't gazing at nothing, but at him. Judging him. Condemning him. He screamed, ran to her, touched her still warm body. Felt the blood running down her chest seep into his shirt as he pulled her close, whispering her name over and over.
Laughter
He turned around, slowly, holding the knife that had taken his lover's life in his hands even as they shook. She stood there in the doorframe, bathed in the light of the moon, her feathery gown clinging to her curves as her blonde hair floated around her. Her blue eyes were full of wonder. Of innocence. Of love.
He laughed. He laughed. Took a step forward. Another one. Fell into her outstretched arms and kissed her. Lost himself in the soft touch of her lips. He was happy. Laughter rang through the house, stroked the fresh corpses as their blood slowly spoiled onto the wooden floor. Sounds of love slid across the wedding ring on Rumena's finger. A tear slid from the dead woman's eye, unnoticed and uncared-for.
Then the front door was knocked open and the villagers ran in. He jumped up, pulled out of his dream. He looked at them, saw their horrified faces as they spotted the dead. Saw their expressions contort in disgust as they saw the blood on him, the knife in his hands. He didn't care. He laughed. He turned around and saw that she was gone. He screamed in pain, howled in agony as emptiness filled him. No! he thought. He had to get her back! Had to be with her! Nothing else mattered! He didn't hear the villagers calling out his name, not at first, but as they kept calling out for him he realised the truth. They had chased her away. They had chased her away. He raised the knife, the taste of her lips lingering on in his mind. The sound of her sweet voice in his ears. He heard her laugh. And he laughed with her.
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