December 5
Twenty-four doors: To the Weak
“To the weak I became weak, to win over the weak.”
There was not a part of him that wanted to be a soldier. The circumstances he found himself in led him to this inevitability. As soon as he was recognizable as an adult, he was forced into ill-fitting armor and given a dull sword. The reason for war, fighting, or the need for soldiers was never really explained to him. Before long, he was stationed in a village just outside the borders of his homeland.
Being newly recruited and lacking any inclination for battle, he was relegated to the detached undercroft of a crumbling and forgotten church. The sexton of the church showed the soldier to his new home. Straw and assorted leavings covered the floor. Rotten remnants of wood formed a frame, and mud was used to insulate the walls. This concoction supplied only enough coverage to prevent fatal exposure.
The season had changed, and the mild golden warmth of the harvest gave way to sharp icy chills and prolonged darkness. Aside from the various vermin that scavenged this room for anything edible, the soldier had another roommate. This person was emaciated to the point of being unrecognizable. The majority of this sick person’s frail body was wrapped in bandages.
The sexton explained that the ill person, named Naum, was incurably gripped with full-body ataxia. Naum, in their sickened state, had been kept in this squalor for a little over a month. The church was treating this act as both a contained isolation and a dogmatically inconvenient hospice.
The soldier attempted to settle in for his first night in this undercroft. He refused to approach Naum. He did not care that they were left alone and abandoned to die.
The soldier was too timid.
Too superstitious.
He offered no human comfort.
The winter night sprawled, and although Naum was immobile, they were not silent. In the blackness, the soldier could hear feverish and panicked moans of terror. The soldier clamped his ears and willed his eyelids shut. Still, these horrific noises filled his darkness with vivid nightmares.
A light trickled through the clapboard and began to illuminate the shared space. Sensing this light, he relaxed his eyelids. A spattering of grey spots faded. His vision returned, and he beheld a bent and horrific form hovering.
Hovering above Naum’s bed.
This floating wraith noticed the coming dawn with sardonic delight. The soldier observed as it preened and postured. It flowed in and out like a sail of sentient entropy. It would retreat a short distance only to flap forward again. After several of these aggressive feigns, it, in earnest, withdrew slowly. It clawed with ethereal wisps toward its helpless victim as it faded.
The wraith—was mocking Naum with illusory violence.
It continued to withdraw until it began melting into the far wall. Dark distorted facial features and shuttering yellow eyes slowly dissipated.
A faint hissing pop echoed, and with this noise, the phantasm had fully retreated. The mud on the far wall glistened with wet frost. Ice vapor spun slowly from the clapboard.
The soldier, neither brave of heart nor true of faith, fled the room. For the first time in his military career, he was happy to report for duty. The morning strain of regimented drills was a relief.
Upon finishing his military obligations and consuming his evening rations, the soldier approached the sexton and explained some of the details of the night before. The sexton begrudgingly offered the soldier advice,
“Do not bother with it.
Allow God’s will to play out.”
The soldier could not fathom the meaning of this advice.
He was unwilling to go another night in the frigid darkness.
He did not wish to suffer being harrangued by unknown horrors and baleful moans again.
The soldier returned to the undercroft and lit a small bundle of coal he had pilfered from the church. He was attempting to warm the quarters, and he also wanted this fire as a contingency. He might need to illuminate the room quickly. He placed a stubby, once-discarded bit of candle by his bedside. Before the full power of night crept to all the far corners, he mustered the courage to inspect Naum.
The flaming coal embers cast a faint glow, revealing a small portion of Naum’s right eye. A menacing orange-hued dusk wormed its way through holes in the wall and illuminated Naum’s left eye. Regardless of the color distinction and the less-than-ideal lighting, the soldier saw all he needed in an instant. Bound in rags and paralyzed, Naum’s eyes beheld an ungodly fear of the creeping shadows. More than asking for deliverance, these eyes beseeched death. The soldier skittered away. Naum cooed and moaned in enfeebled protest. With each of their unintelligible utterances, frozen white breath rose from cracked lips and dissolved into the receding eventide.
The soldier postured himself for sleep with his back to the coals. He kept watch on the tiny embers as they cast shifting images on the wall he faced. Several times throughout the night, he would look back in a panic to see if the fire was diminishing. He was careful not to look directly at Naum—frightened of what he might see. At some point, the muffled wailings of the poor soul reached what had to be their apex, and the soldier sat up. He peered through the bleary darkness, and he saw a contorted and flittering mass floating above Naum. The soldier watched for several exaggerated moments as the ghastly apparition taunted and teased its helpless victim. Naum croaked and bleated on a bed of hay.
The wraith would extend its malformed mien, exposing shadowy fangs. Its eyes would blink and shudder with a dim palette of various colored flashes.
It was only now—after shock and trepidation subsided—that the soldier was able to light his candle on the burning coal. The flame’s grace exploded across the room. The floating abomination halted its taunting, and with a popping gasp, it turned its head toward the soldier. Its eyes flickered and changed hue in rapid succession. These numerous color variations halted only when they matched the tone and brightness of the soldier’s candle.
Now, whatever it was,
It was glaring at the soldier. He shook and trembled. The shadowy growths hanging from the mouth of the ghost retracted slightly, and a tenebrous moue dripped across its muddled chin.
The candle now shook, and the flame wavered. The soldier could not maintain any steadiness. The detached undercroft blinked, and the ghastly floating thing was inches away from the soldier. It puckered its mouth and, with a derisive whistle, it snuffed out the candle.
The three presences were alone.
The soldier jerked back and careened through a courtyard. He crashed into the adoration temple and out the heavy narthex doors—wimpering in the desolate night.
Naum groaned and coughed while the wraith tittered and popped.
The soldier returned once the sun had reached its peak brightness.
Naum shook silently with wild eyes—now one night more desperate.
The soldier pierced Naum’s throat with his dull sword and abandoned his post.
He knew the punishment for desertion. He knew the punishment for murder.
He felt that he was making the brave choice.
Some of the high-ranking military officials questioned the sexton about the murder and the disappearance. The sexton said it was God’s will, and was beaten and tortured for his insolence.
Check out all previous dates here:
December 2 Posy Churchgate Part 1
December 3 Posy Churchgate Part 2
Full list 👇
Twenty-four Doors: Advent of Shadows
Beginning December 1st, this community project will feature one creator daily for twenty-four days, mimicking the traditional Advent Calendar. Each story is operating under a few specific guidelines, but for the most part, the creators have control.
How Hospice has changed. The wraith descriptions were masterful. Well done.
Guy couldn't hack two nights of bad vibes so he committed a murder and quit his job. King shit honestly. 😎 Loved it!