Sojourney

Prologue

“Mommy? Is everything okay?” The innocent voice fluttered across the room. A woman

ran to her and hugged her tightly.

“Of course, love. I want you to go with Damian. He will take you somewhere safe for a

while until I come and get you. Promise me you won’t give him any trouble,” Her mother said as

she pulled back and wiped a tear from her face, gazing into her child’s eyes one last time. “One

day you will change the world, Gwyneth.”

“Mommy, I don’t want to leave!” The child cried, tears running down her small rounded

face like an ever-flowing river.

“Bad people don’t like what you are. They are afraid of anything different from them,

even though that something turns out to be a sweet little girl. You’ll be safe with Damian. Here, I have a gift for you.” Gwyneth’s mother unclasped her necklace and re-clasped it around her child’s neck. The necklace was of gold with a pendant of moonstone.

“Quickly now! Get dressed and pack light. We shall see each other sooner than you think.”

Gwyneth ran to her room and started throwing clothes into a small leather sack. Suddenly, Damian burst through the door covered in snow and out of breath.

“You must send your daughter away!” he said. “Men are coming to kill her as we speak! Just listen to me for once!”

“Keep her safe, Damian.”

“I shall,” he said as he took the small bag from Gwyneth. Damian stared into Agatha’s eyes and held a hand to her cheek. She leaned into it and placed a hand over his in a soft, silent goodbye.

“Mommy! Come with me! You don’t have to stay here!” Gwyneth said.

“I can’t sweetheart. I must stall them so you can live. I love you, so very much.” Her mother gave her another squeezing hug.

Damian ripped the child from her arms and ran out the back door of the cottage. Agatha watched her child disappear in the snow-covered night until she heard the shouting in the distance. They were here.

“Agatha! Give us the child!” a man said from the mob.

Agatha turned her head toward the evil voice in the crowd. She took in a deep breath and

faced the mob at her doorstep.

“You have no business with her! She has done nothing to you,” she said.

“By existing she has! She will kill us all if she doesn’t die. Now, where is she?”

“She’s gone.” Agatha squared her shoulders coolly, preparing to defy every step of the way.

“You liar! We know you are hiding her!”

“That I am but even I don’t know where she went. Good luck,” Agatha said with poised

words.

The men in the crowd looked at each other, looking for an answer, looking for an excuse

to kill something. Finally, one stepped forward, the leader, and waved a torch at her.

“Since she isn’t here, I don’t see why we shouldn’t kill you. That way we don’t have to

worry about another monster being born. Take your last breath!” The man came towards her, his knife raised high and plunged it deep into her chest. Agatha let out a scream until blood spurted out of her mouth and onto her killer’s face. Her eyes went wide with the fear of dying until finally she dropped to the floor. The killer buried his knife once more into her abdomen.

“There, so that you shall not birth children in your next life. I’ve done you a favor.”

Agatha coughed blood on the floor until she finally stilled.

“You’ll never…find…her…,” she said with her dying breath. Her eyes rolled to the back

of her head. The killer took his knife back and cleaned it on her dress.

“Search the house! We can’t be too careful of what’s in there. Take anything of value.”

The mob rushed forward, anxious to do their master’s bidding. He turned back to the dead body on the floor.

“I will indulge one last time before you go cold,” he whispered. His hands caressed her

hair and trailed slowly down her face. The cold already started to seep in. Why didn’t she choose him? Her life would’ve been so much better than the one she was in now.

“Or the lack thereof,” he muttered to himself. A small twisted grin settled along his face as his wandering hands found their treasure. He palmed her breast as the other lifted the skirt of

her dress. He leaned down and kissed her frozen lips. Her color was already draining as they

turned blue. He put his hand around her neck as he spread her heavy legs with his own. Just as he was about to spring his c**k free, one of his followers came up behind him.

“All those years,” he continued to whisper. “You could have been spared the aches that my brother had bestowed upon you. Yet you still chose him over me, the one who held you

through the endless nights of crying. The one who gave you company after his abandonment and the one who offered a hand, a commitment, to you.” He kissed her cold neck.

“But what did you do? You rejected me!” His voice grew harsh and raspy.

“What the hell are you doing?” the man said. Agatha’s murderer turned to give him a most unsettling look, a look of murderous blood. He smiled with crooked yellowing teeth and plunged his s*x into the corpse beneath him. He laughed wildly as he continued to r**e her body.

The follower shook his head in disgust. He may have hated Agatha but he would never wish this kind of sickness on anyone. The sight would scar him until the end of his days. Quickly to end it, he looked down at the hatchet in his hands and back to her murderer. He raised the weapon and swung swiftly until it buried itself into the killer’s neck. His hysterical laugh was replaced by his choking cry.

“Serves you right,” the follower said before his victim fell to the floor. The man left the scene through the back door and found a trail of footprints in the snow. Taking a deep breath, he

grabbed a tree branch and swept it along the surface to erase the trail.

“To make up for my mistakes.” He prayed to Agatha’s body in silent hope that she would

hear him. He swept the surface until the edge of the woods hoping it would be enough.

“Wherever you are Gwyneth, I pray you will not return here for your sake.” And with

that said the man left to his own house, unable to even look at the monstrous act that had

happened before his eyes. The act that will forever remain in his memory fresh, clear, and might

haunt him even in death.