A story I had to write for creative writing! Enjoy.

A sudden chill shuddered down my back. The night was cold and breezy, and my thin cloak offered little protection against the brisk fall air. Above me leaves fluttered in the wind. It was eerie, listening in the pitch dark to the wind howl a greeting, to be answered by the raspy whisper of leaves. I gathered my cloak tightly and hurried along the narrow earthen path, trying not to think of what could be hiding in the shadows.
Midnight had long since passed when I exited the thick woods. Before me farmed fields surrounded a small village. I smiled. I had begun to wonder if I would ever reach the town before dawn. I hefted my pack containing food and a locksmith’s tools to settle better onto my shoulders. The sky, free from the canopy of trees, allowed the full moon to shine with all her light. Being bathed in her glow should have been a comfort, but this night I was wary. The moon was cold and distant, throwing the world around me into sharp contrasts. Keeping my head down, I shuffled towards the village, thinking of a warm inn with hearty food and a soft bed.
As I neared the village, however, I had a haunting suspicion I would obtain neither. The town was illuminated only by the moon. Even at this late hour, there should have been a friendly light somewhere. Walking down the street, I noticed that the village wasn’t just unlit, it was abandoned. Nervously I peered about, and then slunk into a tight alley to escape the wind and think through my options. These options were few. I’d have to wait until morning, and then I could either continue until I reached the next village, or I could turn around and go back from where I came. The latter actually turned out not to be an option: I had left town to look for a job, and going back would only put me where I had begun. That meant I had only one option, which made the choosing a very simple task. I could only move on in the morning with the hope that the next village would be more welcoming, or, in the very least, existent.
For now, however, I would have to find a place to rest. I was tired from the long days of travel, and disappointment weighed down on me like a thick fog. I crept into an abandoned house to find shelter, a bit uncomfortable sleeping in another person’s home, even if they had left it long ago. Perhaps the feeling of unease came from the unanswered question, “Why was this town abandoned?” What would drive an entire town to leave? I did not know the answer, and that scared me. I sat down on a straw mattress, raising a cloud of dust that made me cough, but it was softer then the earth I had been sleeping on for the past three days.
I do not know how long I laid awake, staring at the cracked ceiling or glancing at the moonlight through the dirty windows. My mind did not wish to surrender consciousness in such a foreign and foreboding place, despite my fatigue. But if it weren’t for my restless mind, I would not have spotted a shadow flit across the corner of my eye. I sprang towards the window-- the shadow had been outside-- but I saw no one. Daringly I ventured out into the road, calling “Hello?”, but I received no answer. I headed back to bed, thinking my tired mind was playing tricks, when another shadowy figure darted to my right. I spun to face the shadow, positive that I was not alone. I called again “Hello?” I kept my voice strong but friendly “Where are you? I’m not going to hurt you; I just want to know where you are.” I suspected this person, either a fool or impaired, had been deemed an impediment to the village and left behind to fend for himself. He was probably more frightened than I was, but if I could find this man and talk to him, perhaps I could understand why the villagers had abandoned their homes.
Long moments passed after I spoke, but there was no response, not even the shuffle of a nervous body. Once more I spoke, using a tone more suited to calming a child then calling to a stranger. In answer I received silence. I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes and trotted down the narrow alley I suspected the man had taken to escape. The alley was in the shadows, pitch black compared to the silver darkness where the moon and stars shone. My heart raced, keeping tempo with my pounding feet as I. Ahead of me lay a dead end, cluttered by cellar doors, old barrels, and long forgotten firewood. I pulled on the cellar doors, but they were securely locked, and though old, the wooden doors were still sound. I knew the man was not down this way: a thin layer of dust and grime coated the cellar doors, completely undisturbed except for my handprints, and there was no other place for him to hide. Disappointment and confusion settled upon me. How could I have missed him in such a narrow passageway? I turned, hoping that on my way back I would catch another glimpse of him.
For a third time this night, I spotted a shadow: this time it was more distinct. I and gazed at the man I had been pursuing. In the negligible light of the alley way, I could barely make out his figure, but he was tall, obscenely so. His garments were so dark they melted into the shadows he walked through and they did not rustle. A hood obscured his face. As he drew nearer, I wanted to retreat into the shadows and hide. His advance was ominous, like a vision of death. I felt it may not be human. The creature kept advancing, in such a way I envisioned its hidden face to be pale and featureless, menacing in its simplicity. I was terrified, and, taking another step backwards, I found my back to the wall. I was trapped. At that moment the creature stepped into the moonlight, made all the more terrible by the pale, revealing glow, a glow that reflected harshly off a naked blade held in the creature’s skeletal hand.
The being did not speak. In fact, it made no real drastic motion at all, but I had no doubt his intent was to kill me. Fear paralyzed me. I shut my eyes, gasping in terror. I anticipated the sharp bite of steel at any moment, but instead the creak of old hinges slit the air. Peaking through squinted eyes, I glimpsed a girl burst through the cellar doors. Her face was grim, like it had been carved from stone. In one leap she landed in front of me. The beast with the sword halted, a thin hiss emanating from beneath his hood. The girl grasped my shoulder and tossed me towards the cellar with a strength unsuited for her size. I stumbled down the stairs, barely managing to keep my balance. The girl followed close behind, closing the door and sliding the lock into place. “He’ll still get in.” I muttered, unable to peel my gaze away from the door that hid the evil being from view.
The girl glanced at me, her features constricted and calm. “No it won’t.” she answered, her hazel eyes gazing strongly into my own. “They don’t come underground.” Her eyes narrowed. “Who are you, and from where do you come?”
‘They’? There were more of these creatures? I shuddered. “My name is Threng.” I managed to stutter. “I am from the town of Orsari, up north. I was looking for work as a locksmith, but….” I let my sentence trail off.
The girl grabbed a small oil lamp that lay in the corner and smiled feebly. “I guess you did not expect this.” I grinned half-heartedly in return. “You probably have many questions.” she stated bluntly. “I will answer them to the best of my ability. Follow me.” The girl headed towards the back of the cellar. “My name is Mira, by the way” she added softly. She tugged at a small door in the side of the wall which opened noiselessly to a small tunnel. Without hesitation she entered, ducking to avoid banging her head against the ceiling. I followed her cautiously, my every nerve alert in the constricting darkness.
“Where are we going?” my voice was feeble. Mira replied without looking back
“The cavern.” her voice echoed dully. “This town is built on top of a system of caves. We live down here, now that the shadows, the thing you saw up in the alley, have taken over.”
“You said these “shadows”, as you call them, don’t come underground…ever?” Uncertainty laced my question. How could something so sinister not follow its prey under ground?
Mira laughed weakly. “In the months we’ve been here, they’ve never attempted to pursue once we go below ground. I wish I knew why, but I don’t” With a sigh she pushed aside a large wooden board that had been acting like a door. We entered a cave, long and squat. I straitened, glad to be out of the cramped corridor. I glanced around: the cave was dimly lit by oil lamps. Stalagmites and stalactites littered the cave like columns, so that it was difficult to get a clear view of the opposite side. I guessed the cavern to be 30 paces wide and 10 paces long. Several shapes moved in the dim light: I had first thought them to be part of the cave, but upon a second look I saw they were humans. They sat up and stared at me with large soulful eyes.
Several children burst from the ground and ran to us, crying “Mira, Mira!” They leapt into her open arms.
“Yours?” I asked. She shook her head.
“No. They’re orphans, from the first attack of the shadows. I and a bunch of others watch over them.” She tossed a grinning child into the air, catching him as he fell. A man tapped Mira on the shoulder. He was excessively tall and somewhat gangly, with close cropped black hair and large, expressive facial features. He spoke to Mira. “You found him, I’m guessing.” His voice held the lilting brogue of the highlanders to the far north. He glanced at me, his pale grey eyes uncomfortably piercing.
Mira nodded “Thom was right; some one had shaken the cellar door.” She jabbed a finger in my direction. “A shadow had nearly gotten him by the time I arrived.”
I nodded. “I’d be dead but for her bravery.”
At that moment, my stomach made a loud and embarrassing noise. I blushed, but the two just laughed. “Come, let’s get you some food.” The tall man said, still smiling. “My name is Amaran, if you were wondering.” He extended a hand, which I took.
“And my name is Threng” I was led to a corner where a grungy oil lamp burned over large chests. Amaran opened one and pulled out a small loaf of bread and a couple of pieces of dried meat. I accepted thmem gratefully and sat down to eat. Amaran and Mira sat with me.
“I’m sorry that we can’t offer you more.” Amaran said. “Winter is coming, and everyone is on rations so we can make it through.” I nodded, acknowledging their hospitality. I had met them only minutes ago and now these people fed me and treated me with respect, like a guest. Questions ran through my head like a river, so that I could barely choose which one to raise first.
“What are these “shadows” as you call them?” I asked through a mouthful of bread. The two seemed to ponder the question a moment, trying to put these creatures into words. Amaran spoke first.
“We don’t know. They came about two months ago.” He began. “At first we thought they were travelers, but the moment they set foot in the village, they began to kill. The entire town was in a panic.” Amaran’s face was grim and sullen as he recalled the memories. “The doctor of the village was the one who told us to get underground. We did as he told us, escaping through our cellars to these underground caves.”
“Your cellars are all connected by these caves?” I asked
Amaran nodded. “Almost all of the cellars, when built, broke into the caves. To be perfectly honest, I’m surprised this town hasn’t sunk into the ground yet. Of course, this precariously built town is what saved us. If it weren’t for these caves, all of us would be rotting in our cellars.”
“How do you get food and supplies?” Another questioned that burned me.
This time it was Mira who answered. “Some of the food we get in the cave: water, rats (we’re not picky), a couple of fish in the underground streams. That’s not enough to feed everybody though, and we still need other supplies, so a few of us go above ground to some of the houses and storerooms that still have supplies and take what we need. There’s me, Amaran, Kith, Fearn, and sometimes Rinivel, who’ll run up and take what we can. Baurn used to go, but he was killed last week, we think. He didn’t come back, at least.” She bit her lip. “We’re getting low, though. There’s only so much stuff in the village, we’ve almost exhausted our resources.”
I swallowed the last piece of meat, wondering briefly if it was rat. “The doctor?” I asked “how did he know that it was safe under ground?”
“That is something we also do not know. He was killed before he could save himself.” Amaran looked at me from under his brows. “We all wish he were here to explain.”
“So you’re just going to keep living down here forever?” I asked bluntly.
Amaran exhaled sharply. “What else is there to do? We’ve tried to leave the city, trust me, but every time we are barred by the shadows. There’s no use talking with them either. They communicate with each other, but not in our language, and they have no need to speak with those they wish to kill. You can try to leave, if you wish. We won’t stop you. But you’re welcome to stay with us if you choose.”
I decided I would escape the next day. I would not be caught down here in the dank cold caves, where not even a wood fire could be lit for fear of suffocation. I wanted to be able to see the sun again without fearing death, and feel rain that came from the open sky, not dripping from the roof of a dreary cave.
The morning came (or so I was told: there was no sun by which to tell) but I postponed my departure: a small cave-in had trapped two women and a young man, and strong hands were needed to clear the rubble. The task took most of the day, so that I decided it would be best if I left the following morning, but again I found reason to delay leaving. This happened for days, until I accepted the fact I would not leave the caves. Though I hated to admit it, fear was what kept me underground. The night I met the shadow had forever engraved an image of terror in my mind. The mere thought of having to face those creatures brought back a fresh wave of fear.
All fears have to be faced at some point, I learned. A week later, Fearn, a teenage boy, came down with whooping cough. He was strong enough to fight the sickness by himself, but the two little children who also had the cough were too young. The disease would kill them, if they did not receive medicine. What little medicine we had was not enough.
“We need to go to the doctor’s house and find more medicine” Mira said one day, as she tried to soothe one of the sick children. I knew this was true as well, but I wished there was another way.
“He doesn’t have any in his cellar?” I asked quietly
Mira shook her head. “He kept all his cures in the house, so he wouldn’t have to root through the cellar the whole time. It wouldn’t help, anyway. His cellar is not connected to the caves.” She glanced at me warily, trying to judge my reaction.
I clenched my jaw. I knew I was in no way obligated to follow her, butI felt indebted for the bravery she had shown in saving me. “I’ll come” I forced myself to mutter.
She grinned softly. “We’ll go tomorrow.”
Tomorrow came too quickly. I took a deep breath and composed myself. Mira was waiting for me by the same entrance she had brought me through when we first met. Amaran was there as well, along with a man who introduced himself as Kith He was tall and swarthy, only a bit shorter than Amaran but much more muscular. His face was like a brick wall: unresponsive, blank, and intimidating.
I do not remember much of the walk to get to the cellar door nearest the doctor’s house. I was far to engrossed in thinking of the gruesome fate that might be thrust upon me. But the moment I forced myself above ground my mind captured everydetail and hammered it into my memory.
The day was bright and warm for late autumn, though the breeze that blew by was brisk. Sticking to the shadows, the four of us raced to reach the doctor’s house, which lay mere yards from where we emerged. We slunk into the house seemingly undetected. Kith stood guard at the door while Amaran, Mira, and I ransacked the house, desperately trying to find the medicine we needed as quickly as possible. Mira found it first: she muffled a victorious shout, then ran to the door. Amaran and I followed, but a stack of paper’s caught my eye: on the top was a sketch of a hooded figure, much to familiar to the shadows to be a coincidence. I grabbed the stack and bolted after the others.
I showed the packet to Amaran and Mira as soon as we were safely underground. Amaran thumbed through the writings and sketches, while Mira and I read over his shoulder. What we found was shocking. Of course the doctor had known the shadows’ weakness. He created them. He had written pages upon pages of notes on his studies of how to raise the dead. Unbeknownst to everyone else, he had found the secret to reanimating the dead. Instead of being returned to their former state, the corpses did not even resemble the person they had formerly been. Lines of lettering were scribbled everywhere, furiously crossed out, and then written again. He was frustrated that he could not perfect his discovery, but his last page of notes sounded optimistic.
“Think I have found solution” the page read. “Will try tonight.” Below that, written in tiny, messy letters, was the sentence “Second burial= unanimation?”
The three of us looked at each other. It appeared that the doctor’s “solution” had gone awry, but that little phrase written in the corner of the paper gave us all hope. Bringing the shadows below ground would “kill” them? The doctor’s theory seemed to be correct: the shadows avoided going below ground, like they knew it would mean death. I could practically hear Amaran’s mind racing through the possibilities, and feel Mira’s excitement. I was less enthusiastic, however. The shadows would not come underground willingly.
“How do you propose we get them underground?” I inquired. “I doubt they’d answer an invitation.” Amaran raised an eye brow.
“We blow up the caves”
That answer came as a jolt. Blow up the caves? Was he mad? “What are you thinking?” I practically yelled. “How will we not be crushed? How will we get the shadows into the right place? Do you even have any explosives?”
He smiled meekly. “Yes, to that last question. I have explosives. Don’t look at me like that. One picks up very strange things during travel. As for the first questions….If we took shelter in one of the outskirt caves, and collapsed the cavern at the center of town, we’d probably be safe. We’d also have to hope that all the shadows are in the right place. It’s a long shot in the dark, I know, but do we really have a choice?”
I glared at Amaran “What if the shadows aren’t destroyed? The doctor was wrong before, you know. That’s what caused this mess.”
Mira spoke, her voice timid but clear. “If the shadows aren’t destroyed, then hopefully the explosion will be enough of a distraction to allow us to escape. You’ve told us that there are no shadows elsewhere, so they are probably confined to this town.”
I groaned. They were letting their hope cloud their judgment. Of course, after spending two months in a cave, living in fear everyday, hope was a reason to act. Given the chance to live every day as a prisoner, or to die free, was the choice? I chuckled, amused that I was voting for the voice of insanity. “Let’s try it.” I murmured.
Time rushed past as all able villagers rushed to prepare. All the food and supplies were brought to the cave furthest away from the main cavern. The children who understood the danger wept silently in fear, clinging to their mothers, who were little better off then their children. I felt faint myself, my heart fluttering in fear and anticipation.
“We’re ready” Amaran said. I turned to him. He was pale and quiet, but held himself high.
I left behind the barrels of explosives, following the fuse of black powder which ended a couple yards away from the cave we were taking shelter in. Amaran lit the fuse solemnly, watching the flame follow the trail, then he turned and joined us in the cave.
We sat in silence for what seemed like hours, holding our breath in anticipation. The first rumble reached our ears. It was soft and far off, but it didn’t stop. It grew louder and closer, and my knuckles were white from clenching too hard. Dust filtered into the cave, slowly at first but building in intensity along with the sound. Then, suddenly, it was over. Eerie silence flooded the cave. Amaran sprinted ahead, coughing in the dust. Mira was right behind him. I followed, anticipation driving me on. We were alive, but could we escape? I turned a corner and was met by a glorious ray of sun. It was small, yes, but Amaran was already widening the hole to allow us through.
The first steps above ground were shocking and exhilarating. The land around me was torn raw, like a giant beast had swiped its claws through the earth. Not a single building stood. Amaran peered into a gully and gasped. A body, robed in black, was half buried among the rubble. The hood was thrown back, revealing the head of an old corpse. “I think we destroyed them” Amaran gulped. I glanced around. We were out in the open, and I could not see a single robed being.
Other villagers slowly filtered out through the hole, marveling at the sun they had not seen in months, and the dry, crisp air that blew, but also shocked at the desolation of their village. They could never rebuild here. Their lives would be renewed elsewhere, rebuilt in a new location. Hope in the thought that they would be starting anew.


That was over a year ago. Now the village, rebuilt a couple miles away from the old one, is just getting to its feet. Mira, she’s a seamstress now, one of the best I’ve seen. Her shop is only a couple buildings away from my own, and we often get together and talk. Amaran, he’s the traveling type. He stayed along only long enough to get the village started, and then left for some distant land. He visited once, bringing with him stories and odd trinkets that had no real use. As for me, I finally found a job here as a locksmith. Sure, it may have taken me longer than I expected, but I’m proud to be part of this village.