Flames follow the monster wherever he goes. His path of destruction; only witnessed by those incinerated.

I turned my back away from the fierce fire, knowing that if I longed too much for those flames of life, I would be haunted by their image. The screams had fallen silent now; it was time to move on.

On a warm winter’s dawn- a year later, my path crossed the window of my past again.

How I’d arrived at my destination will always be a mystery to me. Perhaps it was the pulsation of my heart moving my feet in time to the adrenaline, or was it a far cry in the back of my mind? My head looked down at the snow as I walked, crunching along and disturbing the white sheets. I never looked up once.

The year that passed had been filled with nightmares of me reliving the moment again and again. Sometimes, I was laughing and enjoying the echoes of their screams. Other times I would find myself in the fire trapped and the screams laughing at me.  I still don’t know which one I deserve.

Often there was a little girl there. Her eyes were filled with tears, but she spoke with the anger of demons. The soot on her face and scalded limbs showed me she was a victim of my massacre. She’d reach out to me, pleading for me to help her. Her decaying fingers were desperate to be grabbed and every time I would watch her in terror as the flames repeatedly cremated her body. Only her terrifying voice remained. Those echoes of a demon would no longer plead but instead curse me with vile words.

I couldn’t understand why I had made myself come back to this place. The forest only went on for so much longer before I would see the ruins of my past before me. The trees were thinning in number as if to part ways, allowing me to continue trudging through the snow. My body ached with the weight of the years longing to be relieved, but that would only occur when death would finally strike. Nearer and nearer I stumbled with the force of resistance failing my heart. Something in my nightmares was determined to show me the graves of ashes.

The last tree faded behind me and my legs collapsed in arduous pain. My head lingered; mesmerised by the snow that had gathered innocently around my knees. Its soft texture was no comfort in my landing, in fact the raw temperature had sunk wet into my skin, reminding me I could no longer pretend to feel numb.

In another dream, the girl was happy. She had no soot or burns on her skin. She wanted to play in her house with her dolls. The dolls were all the people who had died, made with yarn. Several times she told me I made the dolls for her. My dream recalled me twisting the knotted yarn around the small remains of a body, eventually creating the dolls. I would make the entire village just for this little girl. As she played, I would just stand there watching her humming away.

I forced myself to raise my head. The struggle of something simple became almost unbearable and with that final lift my eyes clamped shut. I clung to the snow all around me, as the melting ice seeped between my fingers. It felt like ash.

Upon opening my eyes, the palpitations of my heart took control. My trembling body rose again, as the image of the ruins before me became clearer. Part of me wished the snow had blanketed the entire remains; as if they were no longer there. The more I starred at the derelict shell of what was once a beautiful building, the more reality came back to me. The remaining walls were charred with black soot and even with the gentle snow decorating the ruins; there was no beauty here. The trees that surrounded the area all too had scars scorched into their bark. Their hollow branches had no signs of any living creature upon them. It was not just human life that has been taken. Not even a crow would harp in this barren landmark.

I had still not moved from the spot where my trousers were now soaking wet. My heart had not found the peace it was looking for and instead still pumped messages of panic; reminders of my destruction. Part of me wanted to believe I was stuck inside my head and this was just another nightmare playing out. I was expecting to shoot up out of bed sweating and breathing heavily like every night. The coldness of my toes and the aches of my muscles assured me this was not a dream. This was my retribution; the desire to come back here and see for myself what I had left behind.

When I threw down the match and watched the spark start to lick the curtained veil across the abbey’s door, there was a smile of satisfaction. I inhaled the sweet smell of the flames reacting to the fuel sloshed all over the floor. The organ was still playing happily as every member of the congregation chattered away, sharing their Sunday thoughts and interest of today’s service. I’d heard a little girl begging her grandmother to let her go look for her missing doll. I had laughed to myself with the knowledge she’d never find it. Turning my back away as the flames had started to spread in a fierce pleasure, I walked up the forest path and listened to their screams.

The smell of the smoke was the scent of my success.

I forced myself to stand up, dragging my legs as they ached. I thought I was going to run and leave this place, but my heart was still begging me to move towards the ruins of the abbey. Somehow my heart had won; it led me closer and closer to the place. The ash still smelt as if the fire had only been yesterday, and that hint of smoke in the air cleared my mind of any conscious thought telling me to run away.
As I neared the wreckage, I could see something amongst the snow and ash in the ground. It glittered with blue, similar to the clear sky of this crisp morning and for a moment I thought it must have been a reflection. Kneeling towards it I started brushing the snow away. I pulled the doll out its snowy tomb with ease and realised it must have belonged to that little girl. Stroking the matted hair of this plastic toy, it intrigued me how despite where I had found it, it was incredibly clean, and her dress as dry as if I’d picked her up off a concrete path on a summer’s day. It was this curiosity that made me decide- I had to enter the shell of my destruction.

They’d wanted me out of this village for months now. They believed I was the one who had raped and murders those women I guess on reflection I could have been slyer. I never joined in with the community and chose to remain a hidden member.
My house was at the end of the village where nobody dared to visit me anymore. My parents died years before although the village did not know how. They used to take pity on me as an orphan boy, but I did not want their pity- I wanted power. I’d heard them gossiping on the streets calling me ‘eccentric’, ‘an odd sort’’ ‘too quiet for his own good’. They’d even told the pastor to visit me and he told me I would be happier if I let god into my heart and shared myself with the community. I did not want to share anything; I just wanted to be in control. However, I still went to the congregation as asked. Every Sunday I would sit alone on the back row listening to them all sing and pray and believe that all their sins were forgiven in this one room. They believed in God- for he was powerful.

I too, was powerful

I had to move the wooden remains of the door frame to enter the abbey. The dead wood lifted with ease as ash fell away with each movement. I had left the doll outside, sitting her up against a tree so she could watch me enter. For some reason, the struggle of reaching here had faded and I entered the debris with ease.
The concrete floor still led to stone steps to where the pastor used to deliver his sermon.  Only the left wall and several columns remained standing, the rest was just disintegrated rubble. The stained glass windows on the left wall still had a few chips of coloured glass, but the cracks and missing panes meant the window told no story of god, only the story of my work. Suddenly I felt a flicker of the satisfaction I once felt.

Each footstep towards the stone steps and the altar of the abbey echoed with a declaration of their presence. This place had been untouched, unchanged since the day the flames extinguished and the dust settled. No person survived because the pastor always insisted on locking the doors during service believing this way no prayer would leak outside and unanswered. If only he had not been so feeble as to cage them all and falter anyone’s escape.
In my mind I could hear them singing. They sang to god and sang about the holy lands, each verse ending with a chorus of ‘Amen’. I also sang ‘Amen’ with them, although with a hint of irony. They’d sung in pride, every week as if someone besides them was listening. The union of all their voices was still defenceless compared to me and even hearing their faint yearnings now, I still knew each and every voice was vulnerable to my strengths.

The crescendo of their chorus faltered the moment I reached the altar. There were no longer echoes of my feet, nor song in my mind, but instead the feeling of that power I’d always desired suddenly filling inside me. It was as if a new thread of magic flooded me and burst through my every vein. The spirits inside this abbey could not touch me, for they were beyond and I was still alive. I should not shame or let their invisible touch haunt me, but instead revolt them all.

The organ was still standing the very front of the altar. My restored lust to be in control led me to do something perhaps more mad than those feelings of weakness in my nightmares. Stretching my fingers I sat upon the dusty piano stool and started to play the organ.

Jennifer Snow was the youngest daughter of my nearest neighbours. She was the only one who did not seem repulsed by my existence and instead would often glance in my direction. I knew every time I attended the services she was expecting me, waiting eagerly for my arrival. Her eyes always emitted fire within them, and I enjoyed her looking towards me. We used to exchange greetings, which I knew her father objected to.
We’d crossed paths once in the woodlands that surrounded our village. She was off to the lake to retrieve water, where I was returning from a daydream walk in my search for power. Her familiar greeting was a shock at first, for I’d never crossed another’s path in the woods before.
Her blood and tears in my palms absorbed into my skin as if I had taken her spirit inside me and now owned it. The fires in her eyes were now low embers feeling the coldness sweep her body. Jenifer Snow had given me the sexual pleasure she’d hinted at giving and I took it, finishing with my own desire.
Nobody had seen me leave the village, nobody saw me return. When Jennifer had not returned, I was never suspected. However she’d left me with the solution to my needs. It was in her blood I had found power. I needed more blood, more power.

“I like that tune.” A voice giggled behind me. I stopped playing the organ, looked down the aisle and saw the little girl. With every moment she’d transform from a beautiful child to the decaying burnt demon that visited my dreams. I was startled to see her there, standing as if she’d stood there for all the years it had been since I’d left her to die. However, I swallowed my fears remembering that the nightmares could not hurt me anymore.

“Will you play that tune again?” She asked, still with that sweet voice tantalising me with the knowledge it was a demons voice underneath.
“Maybe another day” I replied.
“So you’ll come again?” She questioned.
“I’m not sure. Perhaps.”
“Please say you will. It’s awfully lonely here.” Her eyes were fixed on me, her begging untrustworthy. I was compelled to move towards her, to prove to myself she was just an echo of my imagination. With caution I approached her, and she still watched me as if hungry with revenge yet her face remained innocent. As I brought myself closer I felt no warmth emitting from her at all. Believing in my strength again, I knelt next to her, equalling her height.
“I will try to come again,” I lied. For the first time, she looked away from me and started to observe our surroundings. It was as if she did not notice the open rooftop, or the rotted pews. It occurred to me she was looking for something in particular.
“I never did find my doll” she murmured with sadness to her voice. “Grandmother wouldn’t let me look for it.”
“I’m sorry,” I commented with sincerity. The demon reflections in her image were appearing less frequent, and although she did not entirely melt my heart, I could not deny I felt for her. It occurred to me that she was the only one I’d ever seen in my nightmares, but also the only one I ever saw in my dreams too. I recalled the dreams, the ones where she was playing with her dolls house. There was no hatred in her, just a small child playing obliviously and happy.

“I made them leave me behind so I could find her” the girl said, now moving around the pews and looking underneath each bench. “I never have.”
“Have you tried outside?”
“The door is locked silly. The Pastor always locks us in. He killed us all by trapping us in here.”
“He didn’t kill you” I snapped, with a surge of anger. I did not want the pastor taking my glory away from me. Even if she was a child, she deserved the truth to be known.
“I know. You did.” She responded, contradicting her blame for the pastor and still looking around for her doll. She seemed calm and yet I was confused. Was her demonic side going to attack me? Could a spirit attack me?
I concluded I had to try and save her before the demon inside cursed me like it did in my nightmares. Maybe if I save her she would leave? My bitter side reminded me I owed this child nothing, but my conscious part was deciding that if finding her doll released her, maybe the dreams would stop and I could return to the powerful being I had destined myself to be.

“I can go outside. I think your doll is out there.”
“Really?” her face lit up with delight. I made my way back through the abbey, and towards the back door. I heard her gasp as I walked through the debris and back outside in the snow. I realised she could not see the burnt ruins that I could; she still saw the abbey in its full magnificence. In the next world, she would be able to see my work.

Back outside, the doll was still propped up in the way I had left her. Picking it up, I smiled as the hope of relief and the return of who I really was would be fast approaching. I desire so much to feel that strength again, and I still can’t believe my body had known to come back to this horrid wreckage to find my retribution again. Re-entering the abbey, I could not see the child anymore.  I worried a little my imagination had forced my dreams to create apparitions of my madness, and perhaps that hope of my nightmares ending was only something in my head.

“Found you!” She laughed, her giggles echoing the hollow ruins around her. “You hid behind the locked door.”
“Indeed.” I smiled gently as she started skipping towards me. Bending down to reach her height I noticed the burn marks on her skin were still there, but faded, as if her spirit was stuck between this body and its purity.
“Did you find her?”
“Yes, here you go.” I handed her the doll, not sure whether the exchange would change anything or even whether I’d even feel her touch. The brush of her hands was a sensation I had never felt before, for they had no warmth or solidarity to them. In fact the moment the doll was in her hand I could see the girl fading slowly, he spirit finally being able to leave.

“Thank you. I’m so glad I have her back. Now I can go find my grandmother and show her.” She beamed with childlike wonder, but a child with knowledge of her own freedom. I had freed her and that again showed I had power. When she was almost just a glint of light, I asked one last question;
“What is your name?” I called.
“Harriet Hart,” she responded her voice echoing in the empty walls. “But you can call me Harri.”

The nightfall of the first time I had owned the village was one I slept in with peace. The days and months afterwards also had the same peaceful sleeps, full of dreams that fed on my desires of strength. I’d see those women who’d felt my lust and in return I had taken their blood. Each of them reminding me this was the only way I was in control. I did not feel for them, only the reminding pleasure of my own prerogative.

As Harri disappeared over to the other world my heart began to race again. I became desperate and breathless to the same state I had been in before reaching the abbey and this time my consciousness did not ache with movement, but instead urged me to start running. I scurried out of the abbey making sure I did not trip over any of the debris and as I left to my surprise the remaining wall suddenly collapsed. The shards of the window tinkled through the remains as the fragments of God were completely shattered. I had left through the doorway just in time.

I continued sprinting away and back through the woodland. I had not noticed the change of the sun’s position and that the morning had drifted away to now become the lateness of the afternoon. Time had not waited for me and I had lost my days light through seeking my salvation. This time, I didn’t look back.

I had arrived back into my empty village. The deserted town that was once filled with the voices of those still working was now coated in the silence of the snowy mantles. To observers, they may have considered this place a picturesque haven, undisturbed for years besides the one house at the far end of the village. To me, it was just a bland image that skimmed through my mind as I trudged on to that one house.  The release of the little girl had sent a whole new dimension into my own spirit, as if it had reawakened my senses to seek more blood and show my strengths beyond. I had to now move on from this place and become who I really was. This village had been empty so long now that I had only the memory of their voices, their screams and how they felt when I had them in my clutches. I needed to move on and start again, and then move on again until my power controlled them all.

I slept a dreamless sleep that night, a peaceful sleep that reminded me of those days before the nightmares, where I had been proud of what I’d done. That pride now ran through my blood along with my will. It did not take long to pack a few supplies and prepare myself for life as a traveller. I even took a moment to visit the village square where my parent’s names were etched onto the monument that stood there. I smiled at their names with the knowledge they felt my powers first and with that turn I left this place to rot forever in the past.

I became a story, a haunting to all the villages I visited. Nobody would know what I looked like because this time I was sly. I played a traveller well and embraced their company this time. Every village welcomed me, none linking me to the mysterious disappearances and the killings that happened in their homes. I had long forgotten my own name, but taken the identity of the two girls who had created my abilities and became Harry Snow.  

Harry Snow was a humble traveller who was welcomed into villages and treated like one of the community. In return he told stories and made dolls out of yarn for children.