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The Last Mask - Act 2 Slice 3

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The Last Mask


- Act 2 -


- Slice 3 -


A small rowing boat slowly moved through the putrid waters of the swamp, as the two occupants, who wore the same forgettable faces, peered with trepidation at the twisted trees and overgrown plants that surrounded them, entrapping them in this most inhospitable of locations.

This was not the place to go for a pleasant row on a nice sunny afternoon, but then this wasn't a nice sunny afternoon, and the two within this small, vulnerable boat were not planning a pleasant row. They had business here in the swamps, despite any reservations they might have had, and once a job was accepted the messengers always promised to deliver, despite the risks at hand.

A pale, long legged bird took flight from the overgrown brush of weed and vines that lurked at the waters edge, nearly causing the two occupants of the boat to fall in the water. But despite their fears they restrained their anxieties, steadied the boat once more, and continued towards their goal. Calmly rowing away, calmly bringing themselves closer to the ones that called this home.

Eyes were watching them, of that they were sure. From beyond the trees, within the cover of the dark they lurked, watching these two in their delicate little boat. The creaking sounds had been barely noticeable before, but as the boat had made its way deeper into their domain the sound had grown louder, the creaking, and the clicking, the language of those lurking unseen.

The rowing boat continued through the lonely waters, with its two occupants still blissfully unaware that things crept closer, that the hunters of this solitude drew near.

Long wooden legs moved slowly through the mud and slime, as mouldy limbs covered with fungus and plants squelched forward, bending and twisting their way towards the two. Pale white eyes peering from beneath crowns of vines and crudely wrapped cloth, while twisted mouths drooled in anticipation.       

The two messengers continued to row towards their doom, a fate they were fully aware of when coming to this place, although when they finally did meet it, it was still a big surprise.

They didn't notice them at first. The boat passed under the overhanging branches that looked just like all the other ones they had passed before, but then one of them noticed the eyes, the face peering down at them from above.

The two occupants of the boat quickly turned to look at this figure they had passed, as he slowly emerge from his surroundings, dragging himself out of the mass of the swamp's plants.

The stiltwalker came towards them, his encrusted wooden legs dragging vines and other indescribable things along with them, through the foul waters. Wooden planks rose from his back like twisted crucifixes, supporting small cages of things that twitched with fear, as numerous cruel hooks swayed back and forth upon long slick lines, many still soiled with the remnants of previous catches.

The messengers looked at this pale eyed hunter, not a word escaping their lips, as he drew near. Trinkets and trophies of old kills rattling gently as he moved through the still water, his face a silent void.

One of the messengers reached into their coat, a hand shaking beyond control as they tried to pull free something within, but to no avail. No time to stop what was to come, no time to deliver to the chosen one.

And then the net fell, dark woven strands entangling them in its grip, dragging the two messengers clear, and leaving the boat all alone, gently swaying in the silence of this desolate place.

The stiltwalker dragged them slowly through the waters, not a word escaping his twisted lips, as other pale eyes peered on with hunger at what he had caught, elongated figures moving on their wooden limbs with a gruesome grace, watching one of their kind returning. Their faces distorted and decayed, by fungal growths and the ravages of nature, showed little emotion, except for the emptiness they felt within, an emptiness that they hoped would soon be calmed for the briefest of times.

But in the branches above another pair of eyes observed what had been caught on this day, a pair of eyes that held a stronger life than the twisted creatures he called family. Eyes like a bird of prey, eyes that spotted an envelope grasped in the hand of one of the catches, an envelope with his name on it, the name of the boy called Craw.

The boy, who was not old enough yet to don his wooden legs, quickly moved along the branches towards the stiltwalker with his catch. His eager eyes watching, calculating from beneath that encrusted face. And as the net was dragged beneath him, Craw gracefully lent down and snatched the envelope out of the grasp of the man, who despite his impending grisly fate gave the boy a look of pride at a job well done, another message delivered on time.

Craw, with the envelope clutched firmly in hand, retreated back to the seclusion of his nest, a dim and dingy place crammed full of fungus and plants, a collection of toxic poisons that in the right hands could kill anyone instantly. He crouched down in the centre of this hole that was his home, and looking at it, with hungry eyes, opened the envelope, eager to read the letter it contained.

Some of the words were a bit difficult for him to understand, but the general meaning was clear for this little hunter to comprehend. And then, without any hesitation, Craw gathered up a few choice samples from his deadly collection of nature, and put them in a bag, which he slung over his shoulder along with his crudely made crossbow. A hunt was called, and he was eager for the kill, as he set off through the twisted treetops of the place he called home.

While in the depths of the swamp below the clicking of anxious mouths, and the creaking of wood, signalled the time for others to gather. One of them had had a good day fishing today, and none would go hungry tonight.


The Last Mask Copyright ©2010 Stephen Winterflood
The Last Mask - Act 2 Slice 3

Presenting the next slice of the second Act of my Gothic clown novel

- All comments welcome as the tale unfolds -

:dance: And if you like the tale please suppoort the book on Authonomy - [link] :dance:

The folder below contains character designs for the novel and other chapters.

The Last Mask Folder - [link]

- Other Chapters -

Curtain Raiser - [link]
Act 1 Slice 1 - [link]
Act 1 Slice 2 - [link]
Act 1 Slice 3 - [link]
Act 1 Slice 4 - [link]
Act 1 Slice 5 - [link]
Act 1 Slice 6 - [link]
Act 1 Slice 7 - [link]

Act 2 Slice 1 - [link]
Act 2 Slice 2 - [link]
Act 2 Slice 3 - [link]
Act 2 Slice 4 - [link]
Act 2 Slice 5 - [link]
Act 2 Slice 6 - [link]
Act 2 Slice 7 - [link]

The Last Mask Copyright (c) 2010 Stephen Winterflood
© 2010 - 2024 Winterflood
Comments6
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blucrimson's avatar
Craw...the stiltwalker! Awesome! There's a whole family of them?
And what of the messengers? Their fate...already feed from the start!:no:
The guest list keeps growin...to this strange reunion of the Joke!

Another amazin read!