The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

Yule Mother
by Naching T. Kassa 

Night had come to the land of winter. Ribbons of green and pink waved and shifted in the sky above our little home. The firelight gleamed in the windows and warmed my bedroom. I sniffed and returned to my pool of tears.

My mother had sent me to bed. Helga had punched me in the arm while Mama wasn’t looking and I had retaliated just as she turned around. Mama comforted Helga with candy and I was shown the door of my room. Mama also warned me—for the sixth time that evening—that Gryla and her offspring took a very dim view of naughty children. Her progeny might reward me with a rotten potato, but Gryla would do something much worse.

She would eat me.

The door creaked softly and I turned my gaze toward it, my body plagued with chills. It opened slowly as someone entered. They remained invisible as they padded across the room. I covered my head with the quilt.

The creature stopped. And barked.

I uncovered my face and found Gudrun, our snow-colored dog, beside the bed. She thrust her cold nose into the crook of my neck. I opened my arms and embraced her.

She remained there for several minutes, as though commiserating with me.

Then the knock came upon the front door.

Gudrun turned away, her ears pricked, eyes wide and alert. The knock came again, more forceful. Mama answered it.

Through the doorway of my own room, I could see the beggar woman standing just outside. The candle my mother held illuminated her wrinkled face.

“I hunger,” she said in a melodic voice. “I’ve not eaten in several days.”

“You poor thing,” Mama said. “I have food. Will you come in and wait while I fetch it?”

The woman stepped forward, but as she did so, Gudrun rushed out of my room and issued a low growl. The woman stepped back.

“Gudrun!” Mama scolded. “Is that any way to treat a guest?”

“It is alright,” the woman said. “I’m afraid I cannot stay long. My children are waiting for me.”

“Then I shall give you a bag of food. A chicken and some potatoes, perhaps?”

She turned to go, but the old woman grasped hold of her sleeve. She squinted through the doorway and directly at me.

“Please,” she said. “Please, give it to me.”

“I will. You only have to let go.”

“Not the chicken. I want it.” She shut her eyes and sniffed the air, as though delighting in a pleasant aroma. “I must have the child. Please, please, give it to me.”

Gudrun snarled, baring her teeth, as the woman once again attempted to pass over our threshold. She faltered and as Gudrun leapt forward, she turned to flee. The dog gave chase and they both vanished into the night.

I jumped from my bed just as Mama slammed the door behind her.

“Mama!” I cried. “What about Gudrun?”

My mother stood trembling by the door. She fell to her knees and gathered me into her arms, holding me tightly. “Gudrun has chased the monster away. She will be alright and she will return in the morning.”

“But—”

“To bed, Kristen,” she glanced up at me, her face pale. I’d never seen her so afraid. “Go to bed, and whatever you do, do not open the door. No matter what.”

***

I did as my mother bade me the first hour and the second. But when Gudrun failed to return during the third, I crept from my bed.

Mama and Helga snored softly in the room opposite mine. I knew they could not hear me cross the floor and approach the front door.

The door creaked a little when I opened it, and a frigid breeze ruffled my hair and the hem of my nightgown. I peered out into the night. The colors had bled from the sky, leaving only darkness behind.

“Gudrun?” I called softly.

Silence met my ear. Minutes passed.

I don’t know how long I stood there, how often I called. When my fingers and toes became numb, I stepped away, leaving the door open a crack.

I sat before the fire, intending to return to the door within a few moments. But moments became minutes and minutes stretched into an hour. I don’t know when I fell asleep. I only know what happened when I awoke.

The fire had gone out while I slept, leaving the room gripped in darkness. Sleep was slow to leave me. It kept pulling at my mind, coaxing me back into its embrace.

And then, the door creaked.

It was too dark to see it move. I blinked against the gloom, hoping my eyesight would adjust, but it didn’t.

Something padded across the floor.

“Gudrun?”

The footsteps, soft as they were, halted.

Something dripped on the floor. I heard each drop, one after the other.

I rose to my feet and backed against the wall.

The footsteps resumed and something brushed my hand. Hair—wiry, hair! Not dog hair. Human hair. Teeth rubbed against my knee.

The old woman! It could only be her. She had crawled in on her hands and knees. She had come to eat me!

I screamed.

Something thumped over and over on the floor as the teeth continued to graze my knees. My screams grew louder and I swatted at the woman’s face, trying to push her back.

A candle flame materialized before me as my mother rushed into the room. The soft glow illuminated the sight before me.

Gudrun sat before me, wagging her tail. It thumped against the floor. In her mouth, she held the head of the old woman, though on closer inspection, it didn’t appear to be an old woman at all. It was a troll—all gray skin, tusks and wiry hair.

Black blood dripped upon the floor.

.

Fiction © Copyright Naching T. Kassa
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com

More from Naching T. Kassa:

Sherlock Holmes and The Arcana of Madness: A Horror Mystery

Discover the untold mysteries of Sherlock Holmes and Dr. John Watson in Sherlock Holmes and the Arcana of Madness, a trilogy that unveils three captivating cases intertwined with the mystical allure of tarot cards, designed by the renowned, yet infamous artist, Richard Dadd.

A collection of manuscripts, meticulously penned by John H. Watson M.D., is unearthed in 2019 amidst the restoration of Broadmoor Hospital, found inexplicably in the grave of Richard Dadd. The manuscripts’ concealed journey and their remaining unpublished raise a myriad of questions, enveloping them in a veil of mystery.

Available on Amazon!