Chapter 17 Nightmare
Hmm, this is strange.
I don’t understand why I suddenly feel this way. It feels like the comfort and familiarity from Grandmother Claire, as if something very attractive is nearby, causing an inner joy… What could it be?
My little head hasn’t processed it yet when my feet suddenly move, a slight dizziness coming over me.
In the next moment, there’s a loud explosion, the earth cracking and shaking violently, dust flying high into the air.
What? What?! An earthquake?!
The ground is shaking intensely. I struggle to stand straight as I see the earth in front of me suddenly crack open. The fissure keeps expanding, turning within moments into a huge chasm with a familiar look, stretching all the way to the village below.
Boiling black mud surges up from the chasm.
This scene, as if from the end of the world, is all too familiar to me.
A strong sense of unease wells up inside me, making my breathing ragged.
Oh no! Oh no!! Oh no!!!
It’s the Abyss! Why is it here?!
I need to get back to the village quickly and warn everyone to run!
I drop the bamboo basket, ignoring the ground still trembling slightly beneath my feet, and run at full speed. The wind howls by my ears, the cheap cloth shoes on my feet tearing apart under the force of my sprint. I take them off and throw them away, running barefoot towards the village without stopping.
The chasm extends just to the foot of the village. Fortunately, it has stopped expanding and hasn’t caused any more irreparable damage. Despite this, the village, under this earthquake-like tremor, is no longer the peaceful place it once was. Many houses have collapsed, leaving only ruins. Everywhere, cries of fear and despair echo. The once relatively flat village path is now unrecognizable. Large rocks, forced out by an irresistible force, scatter everywhere. People trapped under the rubble struggle weakly, trying desperately to find a glimmer of hope with the help of their loved ones. Scattered villagers stand by the roadside, praying with faces filled with despair.
“Divine punishment, divine punishment… Goddess of Sins, save us, Goddess of Sins…”
A scene of despair.
I stand frozen at the village entrance, looking at a child about three or four years old, covered in dust, fear and confusion on his face, crying loudly.
“Mommy—!! Mommy—!! Ah—! Ah—!”
Beneath the child’s feet lies a woman whose head is crushed by a rock, lifeless now, blood and other substances spreading from under the stone.
What should I do? What can I do…
How can I save them…
My heart aches beyond measure. I turn to look back at the chasm, where arms, like knives, struggle to emerge from the black mire. One after another, five, six, seven… countless arms keep rising, as if demons from hell.
I take a deep breath and shout with all my might to the bewildered people.
“Run! There are monsters, run—!”
Then I scoop up the crying child and run away from the hell behind us as fast as possible.
“Mom! I want Mom—!!”
The child keeps hitting me with tiny hands, tears and dirt mixing on his face, making him unrecognizable.
I bite my lip, not knowing what to say, not wanting to say anything, but running with all my might.
Alya… Barrie… I must find them first…
Buddha, God, and the gods of this world.
Please protect them, please don’t let anything happen to them…
My heart is filled with intense unease.
How fast am I running? I can’t estimate the exact speed, but it’s incredibly fast, faster than any ordinary human could achieve. The antelope beasts of this world can’t catch up to me.
So it takes only a moment to reach home.
The dilapidated stone and wooden house had collapsed by half, and the remaining walls stood precariously, as if they could fall at any moment. The cow at the door struggled to break free from its rope.
“Alya! Barry!”
I put the children down outside and anxiously called out.
The child beside me suddenly fell to the ground and began vomiting uncontrollably. It was probably because I ran too fast and carried him awkwardly, causing him to feel dizzy like someone with motion sickness. It shouldn’t be anything serious.
I didn’t have time to check on the child and hurriedly rushed into the dilapidated house.
“Alya! Barry!”
There was no sign of anyone. The wooden house and stones were scattered everywhere; if someone was buried underneath, they would be visible. It seemed that they hadn’t returned yet and were still at Allen’s house.
I turned to leave but suddenly remembered something. I rummaged through the rubble and found the scythe, pulling it out.
Looking up, I saw a tattered cloak hanging intact on the remaining wall. I hesitated for a moment before grabbing the cloak and putting it on.
This cloak should provide some protection in case of an emergency.
Stepping outside, I discovered that the child was gone, possibly running off somewhere while I was searching for the scythe.
I hope he didn’t run back to find his mother. I prayed silently.
I untied the rope holding the cow and slapped its hindquarters, sending it galloping away.
You should also escape quickly.
I looked back at the dilapidated house that used to be my home and started running towards the west side of the village.
“Run! Everyone, run! The monster is coming!”
“Run! Uncle, run! There’s a monster, now!”
I shouted to people everywhere, but few responded.
The entire village was immersed in sorrow.
“Oh my God—!!”
“Ahhh! My leg is broken, my leg—!!”
“Someone help me! My son, my son is still inside! My son is trapped under the rubble!”
“Little Hill, are you okay?”
Someone called out to me, covered in dust and unrecognizable.
“I’m fine, you all, run, the monster…”
Gradually, my voice grew hoarse. But I realized that most people couldn’t leave this place.
I saw a mother and her two children digging frantically, trying to rescue their husband buried under the debris. They ignored the blood dripping from their arms onto the ground.
I saw an aunt dragging herself on the ground with one broken leg, leaving a long trail of blood.
I saw a girl who had been singing beautifully at a party just moments ago, now lying motionless on the ground, covered in blood. An old tailor knelt beside her, crying like a child.
I saw Mr. Doyle’s house.
Among the collapsed rubble, a bloody, sturdy arm was exposed.
“Doyle, sir…”
I trembled as I walked over and struggled to move several large stones aside.
Underneath were countless beams and debris.
“Uncle Doyle!… Can you hear me!”
There was no response.
I took a deep breath and lifted a thick log with all my strength.
The log was weighed down by numerous stones, but I managed to lift it. Debris fell off with a “clatter,” my face flushed from the effort, and I struggled to move the log and the stones on top to the side. Finally, I cleared away the debris below and saw Uncle Doyle’s face.
His face was caked with dust and blood, pale as paper, with lifeless eyes wide open.
“Doyle… Uncle Doyle… Wake up…”
I held his hand, still warm, my weak voice trembling.
“Wake up…”
“You, wake up…”
I hoped Uncle Doyle would open his eyes and laugh loudly as he always did.
“Hahaha, Little Hill, scared you, huh!”
But he didn’t respond.
He would never wake up again.
Life was as fragile as paper at that moment.
