The Awakening
In the dim light of dawn, Joe and Emily stirred from sleep, entangled together on the floor near the flickering fireplace. They had spent a night that felt unending, filled with unmaintainable terror that haunted every shadow and creak of the old cabin. As their eyes fluttered open, the remnants of panic coursed through them, leaving questions unanswered. How had they ended up here? What had they barely escaped from? Their disorientation was interrupted by the presence of a figure standing over them. Gregory, a man with unkempt hair and weary eyes, yet very handsomely dressed looked down at them, his gaze a mixture of concern and regret.
“Where, are we?” Joe croaked, his voice a strained whisper reflecting his lingering anxiety. “Why didn’t we just leave?” Gregory sighed; the weight of experience etched his face. “You cannot leave. You can walk and walk into the woods, but eventually, you will find yourself right back on that dirt road, back to the large open field. I have been here for eight long years, and I have tried everything to escape. Nothing works.” Emily’s heart sank at Gregory’s words. The notion of being trapped endlessly wandering in a circle felt worse than the horror they had experienced the night before. “But why?” she managed to ask, chilling trepidation tightening her throat.
Before Gregory could respond, a glimmer of hope arrived in the form of Sara, a woman with an air of acceptance. She stepped forward, her voice soothing yet resolute. “I know it is so much to take in, but they are telling the truth. You must go to the governor's cabin. There is a process,” she explained. Gregory shifted his weight uncomfortably while Sara continued, “You will need to go through a list of your hobbies and skills. It is how the governor chooses placement in houses and assigns jobs. There is a colony of us stuck in this miserable place, working together to survive.” Her eyes shone with a mixture of desperation and determination, urging them to take her seriously.
As the couple were taking in the seriousness of the situation. Their thoughts were shattered by a loud knock reverberating against the wooden door. The cabin groaned under the weight of the intruder, who stepped into the room. He was tall and stern, dressed in a worn uniform that exuded authority. “Hello, I’m Sheriff Bill Bullock,” he announced, his voice booming yet laced with an unexpected warmth. “I am glad to see you awake and in good health. Sorry about last night.” Before Joe and Emily could fully grasp the implications of his presence, Bullock motioned for them to follow. “If you would, please come with me. I will show you around town and take you to the governor’s cabin. He will help you settle in.”
A mix of emotions surged within Joe and Emily. They had fought through the clutches of terror only to realize the reality of their confinement. A colony comprised of victims—bound by circumstance, yet thriving in their struggle for normalcy. With heavy hearts and a flicker of hope, they nodded in agreement, ready to embrace whatever lay ahead. They followed Sheriff Bullock out of the cabin and into the uncertain realities of their new existence. As they stepped outside, the oppressive weight of the night began to dissolve, replaced by the peculiar charm of their surroundings—splendor hidden amongst despair. They had barely escaped the grips of terror, but through Gregory, Sara, and Sheriff Bullock, they found a glimmer of community amidst the shadows. The struggle was far from over, yet there was a strange comfort in knowing they were not alone.
The woods stood tall and foreboding around them, a stark reminder of the unseen dangers lurking close by. As they walked, guided by Sheriff Bullock, they could not shake the feeling that they were being analyzed, in the eyes of the unknown lingering in their wake. They strolled down a dusty path, Sheriff Bullock pointed out Miss Trish's cabin, an inviting wooden structure nestled among towering pine trees. “That’s where Miss Trish lives with her two kids,” he said, smiling. The couple waved at a glimpse of the playful children playing in the garden, laughter ringing through the crisp air. “It almost seems normal’’ says Emily in disbelief.
Continuing their tour, the sheriff led them to the town’s well, a quaint structure surrounded by blooming flowers. "You can get drinking and bathing water here," he explained. He observed Joe lifting the heavy bucket with ease and offering a refreshing drink to Emily. As the cool water flowed, she gazed around and could not help but exclaim, “It’s so beautiful here!” Sheriff Bullock nodded in agreement, “During the day, it’s a piece of paradise.”
Suddenly, a flurry of vibrant birds soared overhead, their colorful wings catching the sunlight. Butterflies fluttered around, dancing among the flowers, while the sweet melodies of distant birds provided a soothing soundtrack to their surroundings. As Joe took a sip of the well water, Sheriff Bullock mentioned that Joe and Emily were the first newcomers to the town in a while. “Follow me to the left edge of town,” Sheriff Bullock instructed, leading the couple towards the fields. As they walked, they encountered a sight that both captivated and surprised them. Farmers worked diligently, using homemade hoes made from sticks and rusty metal to chop weeds in the earth. The couple exchanged glances, impressed by the simplicity and hard work of the townsfolk.
Curiosity getting the better of her, Emily asked, “How many people live here in this town?” Sheriff Bullock paused thoughtfully and answered, “Well, we have twenty-six adults and two kids. And do not forget our ruthless dog named Gizmo. We also have a dozen chickens, although we lose a couple to the beasts now and then.” “Chickens? How can you have chickens if you cannot leave this town?” Emily asked, bewildered. Sheriff Bullock chuckled, “The woods have provided for us so far with deer, boar, turkey, and, oddly enough, chicken.” Emily looked at the sheriff in puzzlement, trying to absorb the information he was sharing.
Bullock noticed the confusion in their eyes and Bullock said, “Follow me to the end of the field; this is our main root cellar.” Joe could not contain his surprise any longer. “Wait, you built all of this in just eight years?” he questioned. “No, this place was here when I arrived,” Sheriff Bullock explained, his voice reflecting a sense of history. “The governor is the last of the people who were here before us. Rumor has it he came here when he was just four years old. His father was a deserter from the Union army, who fled with his family before the Confederates could seize their home.”
As they turned back towards the center of town, Sheriff Bullock continued, “Let me show you where you can get breakfast and lunch, we don’t serve dinner here, this gives time for the smell of food to linger and mix with the beautiful breeze.” “Breakfast is when the sun sets in the east,” Bullock stated. “And you can grab your lunch when the sun sets in the west. Cooking food in your home or at the communal area we call the Great Fire is prohibited.” Emily and Joe exchanged looks of curiosity and amusement as they listened to the sheriff’s stories. As they reached the small communal area, the aroma of breakfast brewing filled the air, creating an inviting atmosphere where the townsfolk gathered to share meals and stories. Sheriff Bullock welcomed Joe and Emily into this spirited community, where they quickly realized that despite the challenges and rustic life, there was beauty, camaraderie, and a sense of belonging in this peaceful small town.
Sheriff Bullock led Emily and Joe deeper into the heart of the settlement with a sturdy demeanor, he was determined to ease their apprehensions about the unyielding wilderness. "This is the primary reason people live in cabins together," Bullock explained, gesturing toward a row of sleek but humble structures nestled against a hillside. "Safety, for one. You will want the numbers when night falls, especially since our accommodation is limited. I hear the governor's cooking up plans to expand—maybe even some walls to provide a refuge."
Emily and Joe followed Bullock down the path to a larger wooden structure that stood apart from the cabins. It exuded an air of resilience, promising shelter from the harshness of the outside world. As they approached, Bullock opened the door, revealing the sprawl of a storage market building—its shelves stocked with an assortment of goods, from canned supplies to crude tools. “Anything you need, you’ll find it here,” Bullock said with a cheery voice, trying to instill a sense of comfort amidst the unease. “The governor will explain currency and trade later on.”
Just then, a voice echoed from a darkened corner of the room. “Well, well, if it isn’t the newcomers!” Mr. Ethan emerged, a surprisingly well-built yet shorter man with a mischievous glint in his eye. “Heard rumors you folks stirred up quite the fuss last night.” Emily and Joe exchanged nervous glances, suddenly reminded of their harrowing encounter with the beasts that prowled the nearby woods. Ethan’s laughter, tinged with an unsettling edge, resonated in the air like a haunting melody that interrupted their attempts to adjust to life here. “Yeah, we did,” Emily replied lamely, trying to mask her unease. The memory of the chaos and terror sunk deeper into their minds, pulling the rosy veil of excitement from the beauty of the settlement.
Sheriff Bullock sensed the discomfort radiating from his charges. “Well, Ethan, it was good to see you,” he interjected, his tone shifting firmly. “I’ve got to finish my tour.” As they turned to the exit, Bullock leaned toward them, lowering his voice. “Do not mind Ethan—he is just lonely. Got a weird sense of humor, that one.” Emerging from the market, they followed Bullock toward the governor’s cabin. Its size dwarfed the rest, resembling more a fortified house than a temporary dwelling. As they approached, something caught Emily’s eye, a weathered wooden post, ominously adorned with shackles and dark, faded stains. A chill ran down her spine.
“What is that?” she exclaimed, dread gripping her heart. “The only crime here is the worst kind,” Sheriff Bullock replied, his voice losing its joviality. “If you end up getting someone killed, the punishment is to feed you to the beasts. And they are shackled there until they come.” Joe’s hands trembled as he gathered the courage to ask, “While they are…alive?” Bullock’s response was a curt shake of the head. “Only happened once, before I got here.” The weight of his words hung heavily in the air.
With that unsettling revelation, Bullock opened the door to the governor’s cabin, his expression hardening as he gestured for them to enter. As Emily and Joe stepped inside, the looming shadow of the wilderness crept closer, and the haunting memories of the night before loomed larger than the sanctuary they sought.