The Firstfruits of the Flesh

Ginny realized finally that her life had taken a road that she never wanted, leading her into numerous failed relationships where she was left only hurt and broken down, feeling disorganized, disgruntled, and discombobulated. She needed a real break from all of it, everything that had been building up inside of her for so long. Nothing seemed worthwhile anymore. Even the simplest things that used to bring her immense pleasure and relief now seemed completely burdensome.
Everything from drinking to sex, even to sleeping, was a chore. Ginny found herself night after night unable to sleep, not really wanting to, able to sleep only after taking high dosages of sleeping pills, which always left her feeling zombified the next day. What could she do really, she often thought. So many times, she was wide awake until two or three in the morning and had to go to work the next day, fighting to find any sort of strength to rise from bed, beginning her daily zombie appearance.
On one such day, Ginny was more sluggish than usual and was nearly a half an hour late for work, resulting in her boss verbally reprimanding her in front of her coworkers, leaving Ginny to mock him when he walked away. Ginny could some days almost tolerate the man, Mr. Oliver Winston, "douche extraordinaire," as Ginny had labeled him, a label which stuck and became quite popular amongst nearly everyone in the office, particularly those working in close proximity to the constant verbal abuses against Ginny.
Ginny had learned to take the "ass chewings" as she called them with a grain of salt, never paying much thought to them or to their originator, the douche. What she and her female coworkers really could not stand about the man was that even though he seemed to love verbally assaulting his underlings, particularly Ginny, sometimes even for her sluggish and somewhat unkempt looking appearance, he liked to come by from time to time to act like nothing was wrong, like he was one of the gang. He often made some kind of snide yet sexual comment, always to someone at random, yet not direct enough for it to be determined if there existed grounds for reporting him to Human Resources. Of course, this was not to mention that this particular douche's uncle was the company C.E.O. and that the company had been founded by the douche's grandfather. It was a family business, and so was being a dick.
Ginny, though the latest comment had not been directed at her, had had enough. She debated whether or not to quit her job. For the rest of the day, she couldn't get herself to focus on work and was extremely unproductive. She spent every waking moment that she could looking at vacation websites. When one of her coworkers, her closest work friend, Demetra, noticed, she told Ginny that she would get caught and should get back to work, to which Ginny replied, "I honestly don't give even half a shit."
"You know what it is you need to do right," asked Demetra casually.
"And what's that?"
Looking at Ginny as if she should know already, Demetra replied, "Get your ass out of this hell hole and get far away for as long as you can get away. That's what you need to do!"
"And just where do you think I should go? Vacations are expensive, and I'm thinkin' about quitting this place. I never knew a job could suck so damn bad, you know?"
"If it was me, I'd go to Switzerland, honestly." Demetra stood shaking her head as if she were approving what she herself had said, as if a simple head nod would reinforce the emphatic suggestion.
"Yeah, ok," said Ginny coyly. "Like that's not one of the most expensive places I could go."
"Ok. I know it's expensive," came the reply, "but it's worth it. Trust me! My cousin went there last year and had the time of his life. He went hiking in the Alps. Our grandpa was there during World War II and always told us how beautiful it was. My cousin said it's like nothing you've ever seen before. He said he didn't worry about a single thing the whole time cuz it was that peaceful."
"How much did it cost him?"
Biting her lips from unsurety, Demetra said, "I don't really know. I never asked him. But I'm sure that there's gotta be some kind of deal you could get."
Ginny thought about Demetra's suggestion all night. In fact, she thought about it so much that the usual regimen of sleeping pills did not faze her, causing her to call in sick to work the next day. Ginny spent the rest of the week mulling the idea over and mulling over the idea of quitting her job or at least, turning Mr. Douche Winston in for his string of sex-related commentary.
Ginny could not make up her mind. Time seemed to stand still because she had made no decisions, taken no chances, found no solace in any activities whatsoever. She felt dead inside, more so with every passing minute. The Douche made his ordinary comments, leaving everyone confused time and again. By Friday, Ginny had had it. She was bound and determined to turn her boss into H.R. for the things he had said...
But as Ginny was marching off to Human Resources, several hours before the close of the business day, Mr. Winston stopped her and asked where she was headed. Lying, Ginny said that she was simply going to the restroom, but Winston questioned her about this, angering Ginny even worse. Ginny thought for a moment about telling her boss what she was really going to do but thought that he might fire her and make up some excuse to justify it. She pretended to walk back to her cubicle but kept an eye out for Winston to go back to his office.
Once he did, Ginny hurried to the H.R. department as fast as her feet could carry her. Ginny stormed in, so frustrated and mad that she didn't recognize that she was nearly yelling at the H.R. receptionist. She demanded to see the director at once, figuring that speaking to anyone below the director might not do much good. The matter was much too sensitive and important to leave up to someone so low on the food chain.
Ginny told Mr. Darris, the director, everything that had happened, about all of the comments, even about Mr. Winston questioning her going to the restroom. She, however, left out that she had lied and had had no intentions of going to the restroom but coming to file the complaint. Ginny thought that this added incident would be more fuel for the fire that she hoped to build under Winston in order to, as she thought to herself, "burn his ass."
Mr. Darris said that he would investigate the matter, speak to Mr. Winston and to Ginny's coworkers, but the matter was delayed, due to Winston claiming he was too busy to meet with Mr. Darris and Ginny's coworkers being too afraid for their own jobs that they refused to speak out against their boss. In the meant time, Winston made Ginny's life a living hell. He made sure that she was given every horrible, mind-numbingly mundane assignment that he could think of, even some that were of no importance or had no bearing on the company or its functions, such as going outside and moving his car for him, running his errands for him, and then reprimanding her every time she returned for not doing her job, stating that she was out doing her own things and not the company's.
Ginny got him back, she felt. Every time Winston sent her to his car for something, she did a couple of barely noticeable things that would irritate the Douche, such as changing the settings of his seat, his stereo, his mirrors, etc. Whenever she was sent to get his dry cleaning, she made sure that she put some kind of mark or spot on at least one piece of clothing, and if anything was said, swore that it was not her fault but the dry cleaner's fault. After all, what more could the Douche really do to her? Every sandwich he sent Ginny for was guaranteed to contain at least a little bit of saliva, hair, or dirt... or sometimes, all three.
The first thing on Monday morning, Ginny called in sick to work again, raising the suspicions of Mr. Douche, but Ginny didn't care. She immediately went downtown and got her passport and all required shots for leaving the country, assuming that she would, indeed, end up going to Switzerland or some other exotic locale.
Mr. Winston, now even more angry with Ginny, assigned more mundane, tedious, and/or humiliating tasks for her. Ginny didn't care about running errands. She was even beginning to like it. It gave her not only a chance to get away from the worst boss she'd ever had but the chance to get even time after time. Now, however, Winston was making Ginny do things like clean his bathroom, wash his windows, fill his stapler one staple at a time, and anything else embarrassing he could think of. Little did he know that Ginny had bought a tape recorder and was now starting to record every command. Every time she was called into Winston's office, she pressed record before entering. She now had damning evidence to give to Mr. Darris, which, of course, she handed over right away. Ginny knew that she was not going to be able to get away from the Douche unless she quit or got him fired. Ginny readily expected something to happen any day, but no more word of her complaints came, leaving her to wonder if Winston had not paid Darris off or come to some other kind of arrangement with him.
Ginny knew that she had to do something else drastic to get even. Every time that she was alone in her boss' office while he was away, Ginny put eye drops into his coffee to give him diarrhea. Winston ran to the bathroom so many times that he sometimes spent a half of an hour at a time there. In the end, however, it became more work for Ginny, as she had to clean the toilet at least a few times a day, and it was almost disgusting. In fact, Winston often did not flush, just so that Ginny would be nauseated by her job.
Soon, Ginny learned that her boss was allergic to both peanuts and coconut, overhearing him tell one of his other subordinates when they offered to buy him a candy bar out of nervousness as he watched them at the vending machine in the break room. Ginny, out of an overwhelming desire to get rid of Mr. Douche Winston for the rest of the day, at least, bought a candy bar and snuck back to the office before her boss got back. She plied a few peanuts from the candy bar, as well as some pieces of coconut and ground it all up as finely as she could, putting into Winston's pot of coffee and shaking the pot to spread it around. Ginny figured that it would be enough to make her boss slowly feel sickened, as he was very fond of coffee and known to drink several pots of it per day, always keeping his personal coffee maker running.
As the day wore on, Winston complained about feeling nauseated and occasionally having some difficulty breathing as well as feeling a hive like feeling. Ginny felt monumental pleasure at hearing of this. Eventually, however, Winston took a large gulp of his coffee, and within a minute could not breathe at all, his throat having closed up entirely. Ginny thought to herself that she must not have spread the peanuts and coconut around enough. She became worried that it might all lead back to her and result in her arrest but then assured herself that there would be no way to prove how her boss ingested anything to which he was allergic. Ginny began to panic about her boss' state and called erratically for help.
Winston pointed frantically to his pocket where he kept his syringe of epinephrine, after which he began to experience anaphylactic shock. Ginny hurriedly pulled out the syringe and hoped that she knew what she was doing. She jammed the needle deep into Winston's chest and injected him. As soon as people came flooding into the office, Winston began to regain his breath.
After he gained full consciousness and breath, Winston yelled at Ginny to help him up from the floor, refusing anyone else's aid. Winston couldn't figure out exactly how he had ingested either peanuts or coconut, as he was always very careful not to do so. He wanted so badly to accuse Ginny of responsibility, but what proof did he have, and how could he make anyone believe him? Paramedics had already been called, arriving ten minutes later. They gave Winston a full examination and begged him to go to the hospital. Refusing to go, Winston sat back down at his desk and fired off insult after insult and demand after demand at Ginny. Ginny knew that she could do nothing about it because her previous complaint about Winston's behavior had gotten her nowhere but into Winston's office.
The rest of the day was an absolute nightmare. Ginny couldn't wait to leave. The next day was even worse. Winston was bound and determined to make Ginny's work life so unbearable that she would decide to quit. Ginny did not want to give Winston the satisfaction of the doubt but seriously thought about it. The next day, Ginny felt so sick from the merest thought of going into work. She called in again but was told that she had used up all of her sick days. So, reluctantly, she crawled out of bed and hurriedly got ready and went to work, stumbling into the office. She decided, however, that she was not going to be Winston's errand girl any longer. Nothing she had done to him had made things worse for him, only for herself, in the end.
Ginny knew that Winston was enjoying torturing her too much to ever fire her. She thought to herself how she would simply pretend not to hear his insults and do small things to give herself a little bit of satisfaction, such as when, right off the bat, Winston ordered Ginny to brew him a pot of coffee, wait for it to finish, and then pour him a cup. Ginny happily obliged, adding as much saliva as she could as well as some dust from the back of the counter. Ginny knew that this would not make Winston sick and that he would probably not notice it at all, but it still gave her some gratification.
When Winston sent Ginny to get him a burger, Ginny happily stopped her car just before leaving the restaurant exit, opened her door, unwrapped the burger, and dropped it, meat and all onto the ground, picked it all up and after putting it back together, re-wrapped it to look good as new. Ginny noticed that she had been given numerous salt packets and after deciding that Winston's fries were just not salty enough, added every packet to the fries, 8 packets in all. Ginny knew that Winston would be very thirsty from so much salt and felt that his drink simply would not be good enough. Ginny removed the lid from Winston's drink and after dumping much of it out the window, added as much water from her water bottle as she could fit into the drink, thus, making Winston's drink so unbearably watered down that he would not drink it. Ginny knew that Winston would, however, take at least one large gulp of the drink. Hoping that anything else added to the drink would be sucked into the straw, Ginny also put in a couple of pebbles from her passenger's side floorboard as well as large pieces of dirt and some ashes from her ashtray.
Savoring every bit of her last cigarette before going back, Ginny took her sweet time returning. Ginny told Winston that the drive-through was incredibly busy and that the people there were very slow. This angered Winston, and despite seeming as though he were about to lay the blame at Ginny's feet, finally let out a deep sigh of "damn drive-through retards!"
Ginny watched, quite amusedly, as Winston took a large bite of his sandwich and a handful of very salty fries. Winston had a very funny look on his face and hurriedly took a gulp of his soda, looking as though he might spit it out. Looking angrily at the cup, Winston shouted to Ginny, "Next time, don't go to that place! Go to the one on 48th Avenue." Though Ginny almost wanted to get mad, knowing that her next food run would take longer because of the extra distance, she was really filled with great joy at this news. It meant longer time away from work, away from Winston, away from the life she hated so much. Winston failed to realize that his "punishment" of Ginny was actually a reward.
Day after day, Winston found more and more menial chores for Ginny to do, almost never having her do her actual job. At times, Ginny was reprimanded for her lack of performance, but if Winston ordered her to do other tasks, what could she really do? It seemed as though Winston almost wanted to praise Ginny here and there for her stellar work as his errand girl, but no words of compliment ever came out of the douche's mouth. Ginny didn't really care, though. A compliment from Winston would make Ginny possibly not hate him as much, and Ginny did not want that. She wanted to go to her grave hating Winston, El Doucheo Supremo.
After enduring Winston's diatribes and ridiculous errands for several weeks, Ginny put in for two weeks of vacation. Winston did not like this and tried to stop Ginny, but it had already been approved. Ginny, as quickly as she could, scrounged what money she could find and booked a flight to Switzerland. She had to get far away, alone, and do some real sightseeing. The flight was long and tiring, and it would not be long before dark by the time of Ginny's landing, but Ginny cared little.
After landing, Ginny, instead of finding a hotel, got a cab and asked to be taken to the nearest small and secluded town in the mountains. Ginny then went straight to a place where she could rent hiking and camping equipment and set off toward the nearest passable looking hiking trail or hikeable area. Ginny was warned by the man at the supply store to be very careful, as she would be alone and that something formidable roamed the area. The man told Ginny that there were curious b**sts lurking about, waiting for human victims, even going so far as to tell a local legend about a priest that had cursed and condemned a family accused of cannibalism, cursing them to enter neither Heaven nor Hell but to roam forever the highest places of the mountains.
It all sounded like stupid superstition to Ginny. Ginny knew that no such things existed, that no such curses could have effect. She was bound and determined to have a good time, see lots of great sites, get lots of pictures, and remain as isolated as humanly possible. Ginny didn't eat much and figured that the food she carried in the backpack on her back would be plenty to get her through as much as a week all alone in the mountains. She had a tent to sleep in, food and water to keep her going, a few changes of clothes, a hiking stick, and a little bit of mountain climbing equipment, if it came to needing it. Ginny had a little bit of experience climbing mountains, though all of the mountains she had climbed had been smaller and years before.
Ginny set out from the base of the mountain, inching her way up slowly but surely. She picked a mountain far enough away from town that few, if any people, would inhabit it. It didn't appear to have any roads or houses on it, reassuring Ginny that she would be left alone. She didn't give any merit to the crazy story told to her by the old man. This would be a fun trip, a life changing experience, a chance for Ginny to grow as a person and get in touch with her inner self. It would not be a time to worry about stupid folklore or about her asshole boss. With her mp3 player blaring out some of her favorite songs and her earbuds wedged well into her ears, Ginny could tune out any audible surroundings and focus all of her attention on getting up the mountain in peace.
Ginny had no idea how long she had been climbing but only that she felt serenity for the first time in a very long time, confidence that she was climbing the mountain correctly, always securing everything well and taking her time, and that nothing had hampered her plans. Ginny finally decided to look down and realized that she had made it quite far for having not climbed anything in years, the base so far below her that it seemed almost imperceptible. Ginny continued climbing, getting higher and higher, now coming to the realization that the air was becoming thinner and thinner. Though it might not have bothered her otherwise, climbing takes endurance and careful breathing. The thinner air somehow caught her a bit off guard, but she braced herself and moved on.
Another couple of hours, unknown to Ginny, passed before she saw a plateaued area where she could rest. She was having fun, but it was taking a lot out of her. She wasn't used to so much physical exertion. Ginny found a comfortable spot to sit and unloaded the pack from her back, pulling out an energy bar and devouring it very quickly, feeling quite famished, having not eaten in many hours.
Still listening to her music as loudly as it would play and paying no attention to anything at all, Ginny did not notice a dark shadow creep behind her or the strange commotion of noises that seemed to accompany it, a sort of mix of swishing and whirling, along with what some may term groaning and even growling.
Ginny contemplated whether or not she should stay put or work up the courage to continue on her journey. She wasn't sure if she really cared about reaching the top of the mountain or not. Just being there, being alone with her thoughts, having no one to harass her, seemed enough. Maybe she would just stay where she was for the rest of her trip. Eventually, however, the peaceful restfulness of it all wore off, and Ginny picked herself and her pack back up and began her climb once more.
Ginny climbed for many more hours before feeling a strong desire to rest and decided that at the next safe point, she would definitely make camp for the night. As Ginny reached her hand to grab ahold of a rather firmly placed yet easily graspable rock, a hand grabbed hers. Looking up, Ginny saw the shrouded face of a very pale and frightening looking man. Ginny tried desperately to shake loose from the man's grasp. Looking down, Ginny thought that she either had to get loose right away or accept what she hoped was help because the distance downward to where she had last stopped was so far that it would definitely kill her. Ginny was pretty sure that she had secured her ropes well and that if she did fall, she would be caught and swing around until she could catch a vantage point, but what if she had not secured everything as well as she hoped?
When Ginny looked back up, the man was gone, and she was holding herself by one hand. Ginny wondered if the mountain air and sudden change of scenery was causing her to go crazy, but she was almost certain that there had been a man there and that he had grabbed her. Ginny grabbed the rock that she had reached for and pulled herself a little further, seeing that just above the rock, there must be another flat area where rest could be had.
Ginny now moved with a force and speed that she had never found in herself before. She cleared the rest of the distance between her and her soon-to-be campsite and unloaded her burden as fast as it would come off, set up camp, began a fire, and laid back in her sleeping bag with her music again blaring. She could feel sleep drifting its way into her bones, each second seeming to bring her more and more to the edge of slumber. Soon, she was dozing, though it was barely dark.
Dreams did not often come to Ginny's mind, or at least, ones that she could remember, but tonight, she would have a clear vision of something that would haunt her forever. Ginny witnessed as a man in a darkened robe appeared at the door of a mountain cabin, accompanied by another man, each with a torch in one hand and a cross in the other.
The door slowly opened to a slovenly looking family, the husband holding the door in one hand, the other bidding the two men entrance while grease ran down his chin. The mother, sitting calmly at the table, grease rolling down her chin as well, let out a large belch. The husband and wife had grown incredibly fat, their clothes barely fitting their bodies, both wearing the most evil yet blank of expressions, eyes so fierce, ferocious, and insane.
Holding the cross in his left hand high enough for all to see, the robed man demanded, "Herman, Elise, where are your c***dren?!"
The wife, cocking her head sideways, stared furiously at the man, seeming to pierce deep into his soul.
A carnivorous force had entered into the home, ravishing the spirits of the parents within. The priest knew all too well what the fate of the c***dren had been. Though he had never witnessed such horror before in person, he knew pure evil when it presented itself to him.
Raising his cross once more in front of the ravenous couple, the priest vehemently cried, "I denounce thee! Thou art minions of Lucifer! Do not come near! I denounce thy evil in the holy name of the Redeemer!"
Herman and Elise looked at the man as if they understood not the words which he spoke, their grease-stricken faces staring blankly, seeming soulless. The priest, though exasperated, continued his cries of denouncement, inching his way out of the door of the home.
Stepping several feet backwards from the door, the priest screamed, with cross raised as high as could be raised, "Thou evil servants of the Dark One, I curse thee to an eternity of peril and earthly purgatory! Thou shalt never enter Heaven nor Hell until thou are ended by man but spend the rest of thy days on this mountain with the memories of what thou hast done! May thou be tormented with this and never lose thy taste for human flesh! Thou shalt always crave blood and be pursued eternally by man! Thou shalt face all the enmity of thy neighbors until thou be laid waste, at which time, thou shalt burn forever, never forgetting what thou hast done nor having one moment of rest! A curse to man shalt thou be, and a curse to thee shalt man be!" With these words, the priest departed, never to step foot again on the mountain.
Ginny awoke in a cold sweat and dead panic. Never before had she witnessed such a thing. It was far too real and much more frightening than anything that could be produced in film. Ginny wondered if there could be any truth to the dream she had had, at the same time, feeling a great deal of wetness on her arm. She slowly felt for her LED lantern and flicked it on, turning the light toward her arm. Her coat was torn severely, and a large cut was evident where the coat had been torn, blood still spilling from the wound. "What could have gotten into my tent," Ginny wondered. "What could do this? The tent isn't even damaged."
Despite knowing that the night was not finished with its luminous and eerie presence, Ginny was too afraid to return to sleep. If sleep brought dreams such as the one from which she had just awoken, the whole thing held no meaning. Why would one ever want to be haunted in such strange ways? Ginny hoped that it was only her mind playing tricks on her. If it were, however, at all real, Ginny wanted to get as quickly down the mountain as possible.
Terrified, Ginny peeked her head out of her tent door, just as a strong eastern breeze came hurling out of nowhere, smacking her in the face with the dead touch of alpine gale. This was surely the most startling of ways to wake up, better than a strong cup of coffee, something that Ginny now felt herself craving more and more, still uneasy about letting herself slumber.
As Ginny relit her campfire and prepared her metal coffee pot for the fire, she heard a strange and frightening, nearly bloodcurdling shriek that sounded as if to come from not far above the point at which Ginny was camped. The sound made Ginny tremble in her boots, so hard that she nearly fell over into the flames before her.
Ginny could not tell exactly what the noise was, if it really was a shriek, if it came from a human, or what it might mean. All that she knew was that it caused her a tremendous amount of fear and a sense of absolute desperation. Ginny focused her hearing, listening ever so carefully for the sound, but it never came again. Ginny was bewildered and scared beyond measure. She thought that, perhaps, she would climb back down the mountain at first light, but then again, she thought, she had come here for relaxation. She couldn't let something so simple as a sound scare her away from what she so badly needed and had spent a small fortune to have.
Ginny knelt beside the campfire, rubbing her hands for warmth, hoping to take her mind far away from the terror she had felt. Now, the sound of nothing scared Ginny even more than had the previous shrieking. Something pervading and ravaging was present somewhere in the near distance.
Finally, Ginny recognized the faint glimmer of sunlight peering its hoary yet welcoming head beyond the tree line. Ginny wished that she could give the sun a big hug. It was such a glorious and relieving sight to behold. All the fears and anxiety of the preceding night lifted from Ginny's tired and aching body and mind. She was ready to start the day anew and rejoice in her quest to reach the summit of the mountain.
Ginny hurriedly prepared and ate breakfast, all the while, staring at the waking sun. Ginny finally rounded up all of her belongings, fully and carefully inspecting her tent to make sure that there was no damage to it, trying to figure out how exactly something or someone could have gotten into it without her knowledge. The tent appeared to be fine, no visible damage or entrance detectable. Once everything was gathered and repacked, Ginny set off on her journey, happily taking in all that the day had to offer.
Ginny found herself climbing up the mountain with newfound curiosity and energy, a welcome boon to her as of late sluggish demeanor. The fury with which she climbed surprised her, pleased her, captivated her mind. How had she found such strength and vigor, she wondered. She inched her way higher and higher, soon so far above the point at which she had camped the night before that it amazed and scared her. She was a fairly experienced climber, but if she slipped, and her ropes did not hold, a fall even to the plateau she had just left would likely kill her.
Ginny barely noticed the growling of her stomach, the burning in her belly for want of food. It had been many hours since consuming her morning meal, but she wanted to gain much more ground before taking rest for more than a minute. Finally, Ginny could feel her limbs growing weaker, so weak that she did not think she could go on much further. Seeing that there was another plateau above, Ginny mustered every fiber of her remaining strength to reach it. As she did, it was plain to see that nightfall was fast approaching.
Ginny quickly pulled herself up to safety, and after unhooking her ropes, hooks, and harness and stowing them away, decided to take a few minutes' rest before setting up the night's encampment. By the time Ginny had set up her tent and made her campfire, darkness gleamed across the sky. Ginny sat, relaxing by the fire, with a hand full of food and her music blaring in her ears. Everything was once and for all, she thought, peaceful, serene, so tranquil that nothing could disturb her.
That was, at least, until she decided to give her phone a rest, turning off the music, removing her earbuds. After a couple of minutes of quietly surveying her surroundings, Ginny was certain that she heard loud, distinct noises from the forest only a few hundred yards away. At first, Ginny thought that the sounds were likely being made by wandering a****ls, in search of food. However, after careful observation, she was assured that they were not. Ginny distinctly noticed the sounds of branches being broken under foot and the heavy trudging of the same feet through the thick snow. No small or medium sized a****l could make such heavy footsteps. Ginny was quite positive that there were no bears and no abominable snowmen, leaving her to surmise that the sounds were those of a human.
Knowing that she was no longer alone filled Ginny with dread and despair. What if her dream was real, she wondered. Focusing her eyes intently on the distant trees, there appeared to be a human face poking out, glaring eyes fixated on Ginny. Ginny hoped that the person would stay where they were or, if they did approach, be friendly and speak at least discernible amounts of English. After several minutes, the face, and the body to which it was attached, made its way toward Ginny's campsite. Ginny felt frozen in place, unable to move, unable to scream or to greet the would-be intruder.
As the person neared the site, Ginny became more and more assured that she saw the face of the man from her dream the night before, the man whom the priest had cursed for practicing the sacrilegious act of cannibalism. The man looked quite slovenly, not only his hair disheveled but a lustfully hungry countenance worn upon his already greasy and much besmeared face. The man occasionally cocked his head sideward, much as he had in Ginny's dream, saliva pouring in streams from his very dirty mouth. The man was clearly alone, the woman whom Ginny had assumed in her dream to be the man's wife nowhere to be seen.
Ginny eventually felt the ability to move her legs, and stumbling to her feet, ran hurriedly from her place next to the fire, running as fast as her legs could carry her, sometimes, looking over her shoulder to see if the man was still behind her. He was. Ginny had no idea what she was to do, other than to continue running, but to where would she run? What could she do? She surely could not run down the mountain. Her camping supplies and climbing gear be damned, but still, there were only two ways down the mountain, climb down or fall. Ginny felt unprepared and unwilling to accept either.
Though the man seemed to give Ginny chase, he never maintained more than a sauntering pace. Ginny was well ahead of him now, so far ahead that the man was difficult to spot in the dead of night. Ginny turned her head in the direction of a howl, and almost out of nowhere, there appeared the man's wife, exhibiting the same slovenly, disheveled, flesh-hungry look of her husband.
Ginny froze with fear inside, but outside, she was a veritable force, still running as quickly as she could travel. She dared not look back again, thinking that since she had outrun the man so easily, she could just as easily outrun the woman. But, just then, Ginny fell into a small hole, twisting her ankle badly. The pain from it all was unbearable, but Ginny, determined to get herself to some kind of safety, fought with every ounce of courage she had to pull herself from her trap and continue on. She was far enough ahead of both of her pursuers that she thought she might have a chance, as injured as she was, of making it well enough away to find some offering of protection.
Ginny attempted to stand but could not, falling back to the ground. She hobbled, crawled, pulled herself with the tips of her fingers, now putting such little new distance between her and the couple that it seemed to make no difference at all. After pulling herself barely more than a few feet, she was face to face with the woman. The woman slowly knelt down, reaching for Ginny's leg, seeming as though she would try to take a deep bite of Ginny's flesh. Ginny panicked, fear-stricken, crying for help, though no words escaped.
As the woman's hand pressed hard onto Ginny's badly hurt ankle, Ginny pulled her pack from off one shoulder, a pack that Ginny had put back on after putting away the climbing gear, though she didn't even know why she had put it back on. Ginny hurriedly grabbed the first thing that she could find, one of her hooks, and after one deft motion, buried the hook deep into the eye of the woman, blood spewing, pouring, vomiting from the gaping wound. The woman did not even let out so much as a "huh." The old woman fell backward onto the snow, writhing, twitching, convulsing in such a way that it seemed more of a dance than one twisting around in dying agony.
As the woman's blood ran in streams, or, more in rivers, from her profusely widened and cavernous socket, Ginny looked past the woman to see that her husband was well on his way, having not picked up any speed but having covered considerable ground. He was no getting very close. Ginny pulled herself a little further, and as the man got within ten feet of Ginny, Ginny picked up a large tree limb that had fallen, one large enough to be used for defense, though Ginny would have to wield the weapon from the ground.
As Ginny turned round with her limb, the man was within striking distance. Ginny haphazardly but effectively swung the large limb into the man's legs, sweeping them out from under him, knocking him on top of the body of his now dead wife. The man struggled to pull himself up, but as he did, Ginny buried the tree limb into his skull, over and over and over, until the man's head was split well in two, blood and brain matter flying about, bespattering the ground, and Ginny, for that matter. The sight was one of utter horror, gruesome, grotesque, morbidly and horrendously painted on the canvas of fresh mountain snow. It was as if some gothic artist had rendered a scene from an ancient and evil tale of folklore.
The couple lie on the ground, one atop the other, speckled and smeared with their own foul and putrid remains. In fact, as the man fell atop his wife, his body lodged the hook deeper into her eye socket, pushing it so far in that it punctured her brain, yet the hook became caught on the man's shirt, and as his body shifted and slid a bit, the hook pulled out some, with it, the retina of the eye and small fragments of the woman's brain. The fluids and pieces of the whole mess were a sour mix of the couple's insides. Ginny could hear more howling in the distance. She hoped that the sight and, perhaps, the smell of the soon decaying flesh, would not attract wolves. If so, she, too, would become victim of the creatures of the night.
Ginny did not agonize over what she had done. She knew that it was necessary. it was either them or her. If she had not committed the two acts that she had, she would have become someone's evening meal. Surely, no one in the world would blame her, judge her, or worse yet, convict her. What Ginny did agonize over was the tremendous pain in her ankle. It hurt so much that she felt as though she would pass out soon.
Before she knew it, Ginny saw the same house as the night before, the priest entering, seeing the horrible sight, knowing that the couple had eaten their c***dren, hearing the priest's detailed and darkly unsettling curse upon the house and upon the couple dwelling within. Everything was all too real. Ginny felt as though she were there, in the house, seeing through the eyes of the priest. She could feel as the words of curse were uttered that they came from her very own lips.
Ginny fluttered her eyes, slowly realizing that she had been asleep and was now awakening. It was day, the sun shining bright through a nearby window, birds chirping without. Looking around, Ginny saw that she was in some sort of a hospital. There were numerous beds all about, but few were occupied. The light from overhead was bright, too bright, its fluorescent light shining so intently directly into Ginny's eyes that she thought she might go blind.
Ginny could have sworn that she saw the woman she had killed, her eye missing, blood smeared and caked upon her face, peering around the corner, staring at her with the same flesh lust she had shown before. Ginny quickly closed her eyes and then opened them again. Now, the woman was gone, only nurses to be seen anywhere. A voice called to Ginny, begging for her attention. Turning slowly, Ginny saw a man in a suit.
The man identified himself as Inspector Gestalt. "Pardon my poor English, but Miss, I need to ask you questions about last night. You were found on the mountain, lying u*********s near two bodies. The man and woman had been brutally murdered, both of them having suffered severe trauma to the head. What do you remember about last night?"
"I...," began Ginny, unsure of what to say or what sense to make of anything. "I... I'm not sure. I remember being chased. I remember a man and a woman trying to kill me."
"Are you certain of this," asked the inspector, seeming to doubt Ginny's words.
"I'm very sure. They were trying to eat me!"
Shaking his head a bit, the inspector gave a deep sigh. Closing his notepad, he added, "You have been through a horrible ordeal. I will come back when you are feeling a bit better. I hope you will be having a nice day."
Reluctant to accept her reality, still very shaken, very uncertain, very concerned, worried, and deeply contemplative, Ginny shut her eyes once more. Her last thought was that she hoped it had all been a terrible dream, that she would wake up at any moment back at home, or even, at work, as much as she hated her job and hated her boss, the despicable Oliver Winston, Mr. Douche, Esquire.
Ginny could hear the faint sound of a radio and Winston demanding, at the top of his lungs, the quarterly sales report. Surely, the day would soon be over, and Ginny could leave for home.