Rilestone: Unshrouded

Author's Note: This is an excerpt from the full-length "Rilestone" novel (currently in the works). This is a sneak-peak of what starts the story. Also, this does contain thematic elements of horror.

It wasn’t a root that tripped him, but what appeared to be a broken piece of rock that jutted upwards from the ground. Rilestone regarded the stone and looked upon his shoe, checking for damage. His own foot was fine, and the shoe was a little scuffed. He stood up, seeing the rest of the rock-

Rilestone froze. He knew where he was, the very place he had been forbidden from coming to. It was Black Diamond Cemetery.

“Oh, no, Mom and Dad are going to kill me!” Rilestone gasped, quieting down as he looked left and right, his audience of tombstones greeting him with absolute silence. Whatever names that were upon them were covered by the dirt and moss of several years, the gray tint of the markers now under the blemish of green and black from the forest and the darkness. These tombstones weren’t all the same, like in the films that Dad showed him on his projector. Somewhere pretty close to the ground, like the former bit now reduced to a rubble that still managed to trip up the child. There were several that stood as tall as his dad, if not a little taller. Despite being somewhere forbidden to him, Rilestone pushed on through the cemetery. Surely, there was a way out? As he continued to scan his area, his eyes fell upon what he thought was he thought was a small yet wide tree further within the cemetery. Walking further upon the ground that housed brown grass as opposed to where he assumed the bodies were directly buried. The structure only stood about ten feet tall yet made a foreboding tower to the nine-year-old boy. Time had turned this particular place of rest to the gray associated with age, with the experience of life yet none of the perceived charm even for all possible occupants. The only break into the monotony of the bleak stone door standing before him were letters forming the name of the supposed resident laid here, which Rilestone sounded out: “Renno…Silver?” . He reached up to touch the words upon the door of cemetery mausoleum-

The wind picked up and flew past Rilestone; amongst the noise of the whirling air, he was so sure that he heard a sound of growling.

He quickly withdrew from the door, looking it up and down. A sensation like cold water poured out from his head to his toes; he started shaking despite the warmth of the forest. He no longer wanted to touch the letters or the door. He didn’t even want to be in this place of death. He pondered for a second if there was something here that wasn’t dead and, with that, he turned away and started towards the lighter side of the forest. He crossed his arms, that freezing sensation not yet alleviated despite the coming warmth of the light. He didn’t run, but he hurried to what felt like a slope going downhill and then…

The forest suddenly ended upon a path; in turn, the ground on the other side of the path stretched just a few yards towards a cliff, where the sound of a river could be heard as it rushed past another forest, albeit one climbing upon the face of the rocky hills that greeted him from afar. This road, though, looked like the one that passed near his parent’s house, a large stretch of dirt as wide as two men were tall. He looked to his right, beholding the line of the trees stretching forth from behind him and upon the path, with grass and river rushing to keep pace. He then looked to his left and breathed a sigh of relief, for he saw a wooden bridge just a quarter of a mile from his position. The design was unmistakable; it was the exact bridge that lied not far from his own home!

A new sound was heard, this one distant yet sharp to the ears of Rilestone. A scream of grinding metal accompanied by a scraping of stone against stone echoed from the forest, mainly from the direction of the mausoleum. Rilestone turned to look, seeing nothing but the trees and the outer wall of the cemetery. For a moment, silence followed the scraping sound, only to be interrupted by the growling from before. This time, though, a chorus of growling could be heard as if a herd of wolves were angrily waking up. Not wanting to see what exactly was making the noises, Rilestone turned to face the distant bridge and started running. He would put as much distance as he could between him and that place; he would have to explain everything to his parents about where he was and why he went off like that while leaving his cousin behind, but he felt that would be a small price to pay just to stay alive and well.

Another sound assailed his hearing, this one reminiscent of distant thunder. He looked over his shoulder, in the spot where he last stood. The sunlight had been glowing inside of the current clouds passing over, but the thunder wasn't from above and the trees were to be the ones obscured of any light. In fact, the darkness seemed to be spreading in between the trees, like smoke pouring from room to room. This smoke, though, wasn’t pouring in all directions from a lack of wind; it seemed to be moving in a particular direction. What’s more, the thunder followed it along with the growling, both no longer sounding distant but moving towards a certain target.

To him.

Rilestone ran faster.

The dark “smoke” started pouring out of the trees, the tendrils of this storm reaching out and gripping the land as if pulling itself out of hiding. Though this mass was currently far behind, Rilestone only needed to glance over his shoulder again to garner immediate knowledge that it was still moving after him and was speeding up. More of the storm poured out, this time accompanied by movement within, causing whirlwinds as these new objects interrupted the flowing fluid. Though they were shrouded, Rilestone instinctively knew that these new objects were alive and coming after him. He could feel the burning of his muscles and the drying of his throat, but he pushed on his pace with his only thought being to make it to the bridge. After that, it would be a straight shot home. He would make it! God, he cried inside his mind, help me make it home!

The clouds that kept the Sun at bay in his area were retiring to the other side of the hills, finally allowing the light to pour through. Here, it found the young white-haired boy as he breathed heavily, his feet and his lungs taking the pounding of his fastidious action in literal strides. Sweat was not only forming, but it was also falling off of his forehead and gathering upon his clothes along with the dust and debris being kicked up by his actions. The light moved over him, the warmth adding to his uncomfortable predicament just before it moved upon the thunderhead racing behind him. Darkness fell before the light, and the shroud lifted to reveal what exactly was moving within.

Another shoulder peek was managed by Rilestone, and the adrenaline seemed to resurge throughout his body with a renewed vigor, perhaps sensing the sudden determination of the monstrosities now uncovered by the light. At best, in what a child would describe such as, they were large wolves with legs like tigers and fur even darker than the massive shroud previously blanketing them. Their eyes shown as ghostly lamps, barely moving out of seeming dedication even with the pursuit on the dirt road. Growls came from each one, no longer in a unison of a pack but in the constantly broken rhythm to each of their own making, with bellowing barks tearing faster than their own bodies to reach their prey first as a prelude to a terrible fate.

Amongst them, a giant hound pushed from the back towards the front, leaping over and sidestepping his smaller pack members while barely making any noise besides the thudding of his paws meeting the ground for an instant congress before cutting back into the air as the chase continued.

Rilestone glimpsed such a beast, his fear and anxiety now at a crescendo. More speed was forced out of his legs as a sensation of fresh acid coated his body almost as thick as his sweat. Up ahead, the bridge was approaching him almost as fast as those hounds were, reaching out like a true friend.

Almost there, he thought! Almost-

The alpha surged forward, not to pounce upon the back of his quarry, but to swing one of those tiger-legs in a single arc. Great claws immediately sprouted from his paw, all eager guests to enter a home that they were never invited into, running through flesh and muscle in a spray of red. A great gasp erupted after the attack, with the force of the blow propelling Rilestone forward. The world that was once racing past him now slowed down for a moment…

He met the supports of the bridge with such force that he uprooted the post as a sound like lightning echoed deep within the cliffs, followed by pieces of wood that once held the hope of escape but now carried its first victim to the winding blue serpent that awaited below.

A young boy fell with pieces of an old bridge. Yet, while the former passage consisted of material long since dead, Rilestone was alive though unconscious. His torn shirt fluttered in the wind as if trying to grab onto anything that wasn’t just air. Perhaps, in this moment, it was for the best that he was momentarily torpid as he hit the water below, bobbing back up a few seconds later alongside the wooden floatage. Above, the hellhounds that pursued him stopped and looked over the edge of the now unconnected land mass, watching their former hunt leave upon the water. The mark had been made by the alpha, and the scent of the boy assailed their nostrils, never to be forgotten. After about a minute, the pack turned away from the collapsing bridge, all except the alpha. He looked over the edge of the cliff and watched the young white-haired child floating away in the river for a while longer. Finally, he would also move off and make his journey back to the other side of darkness.