Who am I?
Slowly, the blackness fades away. I can make out things, structures. Wooden beams above my head: a roof. Beneath it… stuff. Heaps of something, straw. I’m lying on the ground, staring upwards.
Where am I?
Pain fills me out. It gets more with every second that passes. It appears that my body got injured. The worst is the pain in my throat. It seems to choke, to strangle me. I’m thirsty.
A word appears in my head. Wolfgang. Is that my name? I think so.
Slowly, I lean forward. The pain in my throat makes me stagger. The blackness has not vanished completely, still everything is grey. Is this a barn? I sniff. Straw should be smelling.
I received a blow on my head. A nasty blow it was. I think I remember. I try to feel for it, but lifting my arm is oddly complicated. Must have hit me badly.
Who?
I was looking for him, I think. Yes. Looking, and when I found him, he hit me.
I get up. It’s hard to do, my legs don’t move as they should, do not obey me. I stumble and almost fall backwards. This horrible pain in my throat. I’m hungry. How long have I been lying on the ground? Must have been days.
Looking for him. No. Looking for it. Not a man. It was a monster I was looking for. I lean against the wall, it is easier to stay upright this way.
From the other side of it, I hear muffled voices.
“Mommy, there’s a monster in the barn!”
“Don’t be silly. The monster is long gone.”
“But I saw it!”
The monster is still here? After all the time? I look around. It cannot be. It would have killed me for sure.
Leaning against the wall next to me, there is a pitchfork. I take it. My fingers hardly feel the wood. If the monster is still here, I have to be careful.
There are so many heaps of straw, they’re filling up the barn. It doesn’t matter. I stumble to each of them and poke the pitchfork in. No monster. Only straw. The monster is gone indeed.
I stagger towards the door. There are voices on the other side. I support myself with the fork. How happy they will be when I tell them that there is no monster here.
The door opens. Outside, three people are standing. A woman. A child. A man. They stare inside, and their faces break into terror. The child screams.
Have I overlooked something? I turn, but there’s nothing to see.
“Quickly, Marianna! Take him away!” This is the man’s voice. I turn to tell him that there’s nothing to worry, but he jumps towards me and hits me in the face. The blow sends me to the ground. The next moment, he’s kneeling above me, pounding his fists into me. He’s a heavily built man. I can see blood on his hands. I try to move, but in vain.
And then he stops. His eyes widen. His weight is lifted from me, and he is lifted from the ground. A man is standing behind him, tall and thin, and holding him at the neck with one hand like a kitten. The farmer dangles in the air. Then he is tossed aside against the wall. His bones shatter. He drops to the floor, lifeless.
The tall men looks at me and smiles. His teeth are magnificent.
“Get up,” he says.
I do so, glad that I can obey him.
“They thought that I had left. They dared to stand up against me. How foolish of them. Now I will make them pay for their stupidity. Their blood shall sustain my vigour, and their lifeless carcasses shall be the food for my faithfull minions.”
It is true, no matter he says. His words are law.
“Come.”
He leaves. I stumble behind him. I can hear screams nearby, but it doesn’t matter. He will know what to do about them.
Just outside, we pass a trough, filled to the rim with water. Moonlight is lighting it. From the corner of my eyes, I can see the reflection of us two: the tall figure leading the way, elegant and beautiful, and myself, hunched up, with the pitchfork in my hands, an old, gaping wound on the side of my head, the rotting flesh falling from my bones.
The hunger will soon be sated.