The Curse of Silver

The Curse of Silver

By Brian Adkins

The taste of hemp rope clung to my mouth and throat, coating it in the taste of my shame.

The taste of hemp felt forever lodged in my tongue. My teeth must have clenched because I could not separate them from one another. Silenced.

Above me I can see the olive trees leaves with the full moons’ light behind it giving way to a breeze that could barely press its way through the branches. Warm but cooler than the night. The earth still warm from yesterdays heat.

My hands, with my fingers I can feel my torn flesh from my neck with my hands. Something shifts there now in my neck as I inspect what I have done with these hands. These hands. Dirty hands. I found myself staring at these hands. They are fithy.

What have I done?

How have I come to be here? Like this? My neck is surely injured. Feels torn or burned as I touch the flesh that was once my neck. Why doesn’t it hurt more? I try to open my mouth again, it begins to give way.

I can feel the soil beneath my nails.

Dirty fingers.

Dirty hands. The pressure the soil beneath my nails feels as if my nails are torn from where they belong. But they remain.

A beetle has found its way onto my sleeve, and I can hear and feel its every step, as if it was marching heavy footed along my skin. It echoed in my head; it was so loud. Pounding its every step into my brain that swelled with pressure. Blood was rushing into place, and I can feel it building itself and refilling itself throughout my body. Aching as it courses to each limb, pressing itself against my skin from inside, trying to get out.

Theres a sound, a sound coming from over the bend in the road. A sound of goats invades my ears, clouding my thoughts. The pressure, the pain of it. The blood flooding inside of me desperate for some relief. The goats. Those damned goats.

My jaw now loosened to an uncontrollable salivation in my mouth. I could almost taste the smell of those goats. I clenched my head and sank down beneath the olive tree.

I must have closed my eyes. The sun was out and the heat of the day was already upon me. I felt my neck and it had healed. It seemed unreal, like a dream. Was that a dream. A nightmare. Am I now with the living or do I wait here for my Lord to summon me?

My Lord?

What have I done?

Getting to my feet with little effort I tried to speak. I tried to ask for forgiveness. I tried to pray to God for some kindness and clarity. Words could not escape my mouth that I could now open but no sound came from it. The taste of hemp, saliva and fresh blood it seemed, in my mouth.

I looked around. Where have I found myself? I do not know this pasture, do I?  What are these tastes that will not fade from my mouth? Blood. I can taste it and it appears to cover my hands. My hands. They are grotesquely dirty and covered in dried mud and the smell metallic taste of blood. My God, what has happened? I dropped to my knees and felt each rock as it tried to pierce my skin on each of my knees. My mouth opened, sore but nothing escaped. I wanted to pray but could not find my way to it. I wanted to know. Anything. But nothing came from me. Inside I screamed and yelled as the anguish felt like it was ripping itself from me, from inside to get out.

Then, a sound.

I can see a young shepherd and his flock are approaching from somewhere over the next ridge. I could not be sure if I heard them or smelled them first. I am sure it was the same smells that had haunted me before. The goats, they were so very loud lofting about without a thought in the tiny brains. Goats. My stomach rumbled. I was so hungry.

The boy and his goats came over the ridge just as I began to fantasize devouring a meal of fresh goats’ meat, they interrupted me mid bite. No matter, I could only taste the damned hemp that still lingered.

The boy approached, “were you attacked? Are you alright?”

As I opened my mouth to respond and that’s when I could hear it. A quick frightful knocking from behind his ribs. “water” I managed to say. He held out his skin that was engorged with water, and I snatched it from him greedily and consumed the majority of the liquid. It tasted horrible.

“You have blood all over you, do you need a physician?” the boy was looking me up and down and I could only image what he was thinking.

“No” is all I could say. My mind slipped from and into a thought, a memory.

Maybe.

 A day such as this one but we were all together and we had walked most of the night to avoid the next day’s heat. That morning we had met a young shepherd boy much like this one. He offered water and shade to set under. Master? Where have you gone?

 “Is your father at home boy? Go and fetch him. I will tend the sheep until your return.”

The boy ran off as my thoughts returned.

The goats. I must have them. As I checked my purse that still hung heavily from my waist. I peered inside and was blinded by the silver coins that glimmered as if on each ray of sunlight individually and dancing to avoid my gaze. I closed the purse and let it hang heavily from my side once again. I attempted to clean myself off with a branch from the olive tree. Swatting away the dust and cleaning my filthy hands with some of the remaining water the boy had left behind. The dirt under my nails refused to give way without a fight. It felt like destroying evidence. Evidence of what? Why does my memory elude me? Protect me?

The boy and his father had returned by this time. I explained that I needed to purchase his goats for my wealthy master that will surely see me dead if I do not return with these goats.

“My friend” the father began, “surely, you must understand that this is the meat my family must survive on, your silver cannot fill our bellies. I must say no.” he rounded up the boy and the flock and the headed back from the direction they had come. I did not rebuttal or even offered one word in contrary to his plight. “Thank you for your hospitality.” Is all I could say as I returned their skin of nearly empty water and watched as they all walked away. I lay under the tree and closed my eyes and drifted away.

Flashes of silver. Brilliantly danced before me as memories of a life that seemed so long ago yet it was only yesterday. His face is there. Looking. He knows. He must. The silver, he must know about the silver. What did he expect? It’s insanity. It’s blasphemy. The rage. I can feel the rage inside of me as if all the moments and all the emotions and all the pain came to me in an instant.

My eyes widened to the sight of the moon. Its full body sensually floated in a pool of stars peacefully for just one moment before blood dripped from it. Burning my eyes I could not see. The taste of the hemp gave way to the thirst for blood. I can smell them, even from here. Beyond the ridge and through the valley. A makeshift pen against the cliff. Goats, loud and smelling of, well, goats. Disgusting animals. Their stench filled my nostrils but still; The smell. That smell drives me forward without my will to do so. The pressure builds from the nostrils and engorges my head. The pressure is intense, like none I have ever known before or since. My tongue presses my teeth from behind and it feels as if they are ejected completely from my face. Tooth by tooth flinging through the air. My shoulders began to jerk and thrash themselves from their sockets. I reached for the moon and gave out an excruciating scream of absolute pain. I screamed until it became a howl. I revolted against the moon for watching this happen to me and not granting aid. I cursed God himself for this injustice to me to his servant. I watched my hands give way too much larger hands that no longer had those filthy fingernails, but they had become claws. Magnificent claws of the purest bone-white. My vision returned from the blurred state and the sting of blood in them was gone just before the night became alive with details. Details I never noticed or cared to notice before. My eyes could see now more perfect than ever before. The fine grains of sand that made up the dirt like the vastness of stars in the night. The moonlight lit up the countryside as if it were daylight, I could see everything. It’s all so beautiful. And all moving so quickly.

My body began to run. I moved with the wind and as easily without anything that could slow me. As I traversed the countryside I felt as if I had taken flight as I ran like a bird to the sky or a fish at sea. I quickly found myself through the valley and I was devouring the goats two at a time. I ripped theheads off with my teeth as I leifted them effortlessly from the ground with one hand. Their blood soaked me as it poured from their flesh. It was warm and sticky and I was not satisfied. My hunger only grew as the number of goats lessened and once the goats were gone it was quiet.

Very quiet.  

Not for long.

It is then that I could hear it clearly. Once again that heartbeat. Thump, thump, in my ears as it sang to me, the boy I had heard it before, it was the heart of the boy. Saliva began to form once again. Pooling inside my mouth and like a flash of light I had crossed the field between the cliff where the pen had been and the small home of the shepherd and his family. I stood outside the light of the window and I could hear each of their hearts beating as I crept about, smelling them, listening to them. Hunting them. They had not heard what I had already done in the pen of goats. How unfortunate for them. They were having their evening supper, and I was planning on my dessert. My stomach yearned for them as if I had not just eaten ten full sized goats.

I was famished.

I must have them.

I entered the home without hesitation. The door made from wood and straw barely presented a challenge to me as I flung it aside. I lifted the father by his head as he stood in surprise and fear with one hand I heaved him as if he were weightless and tossed him to the opposite side of the room where he struck the stone wall with his head leaving his blood there. He collapsed and with a slight gurgle he slumped over. The eyes of his wife, their two young daughters and the boy were wide, frozen and fixed upon me as if I was some deranged lunatic, how dare they judge me. I barely realized where one started and the other ended as I tore their limbs from the bodies. I formed a pile, one for the arms and another for whatever else may have come off as I swiped at them with my claws. They were very alive when I consumed them and each watched as I tore their loved ones apart with my teeth. As I devoured each one, I took my time and they could only watch and wait for their turn.

As the sun lazily reached its way up and over the countryside its warmth covered me. I was in the middle of a meadow completely naked. Dried blood was under my fingernails, those dirty fingernails and the rest of me, well,  I was otherwise clean. I would like to tell you I was beside myself by the thought of what I had done. I was not. It seemed as natural then as it does now and I looked forward to the next meal as I do to this day.

I had never felt the calm that I had that morning.

I was born.

I became what it is that I am today. It was the following morning when things changed.