River Of Blood

John's hands trembled as he pulled the hood over his eyes. It was still winter but he dared not enter the woods from whence he had come but a few months before.

John himself had acted a bit odd. His behaviour changed so that he was constantly looking behind him.

And now for protection he carried a small knife in his pocket.

At this moment he was walking down a cleared pathway in the small town in which he was spending the holidays.

His eyes spotted a patch of fresh green clovers. He began to walk off the trail into what he saw were beautiful clovers.

Slowly he knelt down and ran his fingers through the green buds. Snow drifted down and onto the ground all around him yet John was sweating because of his coat. He slowly removed it and sat still as snow drifted down and covered his shoulders. His short sleeved shirt the only protection for his back against the harsh breeze. Instead he leaned and smiled as the cold wind wrapped around him. This was something that he had noticed that was different from old John.

Slowly he stood back up after a few moments and stepped back onto the road and began to walk quickly taking in a few deep breaths.

A few minutes later he heard a screech created by his imagination. His hand immediately going to his knife on his side. He knew for sure it was the wendigo and this time he had come prepared if anything happened.

He froze until the sound was right behind him.

Quickly in the twinkle of an eye he spun around slicing across what he assumed was the wendigo's throat. Blood sprayed him across the face as he stood watching.

A soft groan of a young lad about elicited from this "wendigo's" mouth

John's eyes cleared and widened as he saw what he had done. This had been only been a little boy about the same age as John from the village.

John watched in horror as the boy stumbled forward to his knees and fell face first into the snow choking on his blood.

"Joh-hnny..."

John quickly knelt down and gathered the little boy into his arms

'Jack...jack no-no I'm sorry. I thought-"

He started to run toward the edge of the forest to the village but the load was too heavy for him.

The boy coughed and John realized he wasn't going to make it.

By the time John stopped on the road and sat down pulling off his shirt and pressing against the boy's neck to stop the bleeding he saw the glazed look in his eyes. He was dead.

John's eyes filled with tears as he leaned forward and set his head on the boy's chest. Not caring that his blood smeared across his bare chest and face.

His hands shook as he looked down at them. He had just killed his...friend.

He trembled and set the boy down on the side of the road in the snow and sat there for a moment staring in horror at his handy work.

He stood up a few minutes later. He wouldn't tell anyone of the accident. He would cover it up and find a place to rinse off.

Standing and walking into the woods he heard the sound of a small creek. as soon as he was close enough to it he bent down and splashed his face and chest with the clear water. But as soon as the water touched his skin it seemed to turn red and thick as blood. John looked down at his body now covered in blood.

Crying out in fright he backed away from the creek and leaned against a tree hugging his knees tightly with his arms.

He buried his head in his arms as more snow fell down and covered him. He sat still and let his thoughts overwhelm him.


~Jessie Tang~