Chương 51: Chapter 51
Karl had always been a solitary figure on his farm, a patch of land that had seen better days, nestled between the rolling hills of central Vermont. He lived alone in his small, creaky farmhouse, its paint long faded and peeling, windows cracked and cobwebbed. His only company was the old cow, Bessie, and a promise he'd made long ago to an entity from a time beyond memory—a forgotten god, he supposed.
Each morning, as the first light of dawn painted the sky in shades of grey and pink, Karl would leave the house, his boots heavy with the damp earth of his fields. He'd walk to the pen where Bessie stood, her gentle eyes watching him with an almost human sorrow.
He'd whisper to her about the good old days, when she was just a calf and his wife was still alive to tend to the farm. But those days were long gone, replaced by silence and the weight of memories.
Karl's pact with the forgotten god was simple—he must feed it. Not the usual fare, not crops or cattle, but humans. He couldn't explain it, not even to himself, but he knew that the god thrived on suffering, on terror, on blood. It was a dark bargain, one he couldn't escape, even if he wanted to.
And he did want to. Oh, how he longed for freedom from this twisted duty. But the entity had a hold on him, one he couldn't break.
Every week, Karl would wait, hidden in the shadows at the edge of the woods, watching the roads that wound through his property. He'd seen them come and go—a teenage couple on a summer drive, a lost tourist, an old man like himself, looking for a place to rest. They never saw him, not really.
Just a glimpse, a shadow in the corner of their eye before they disappeared, swallowed by the woods. Sometimes, he would hear their screams, distant and muffled, a cruel reminder of the fate that awaited them.
One autumn evening, a group of four young people—two girls, two guys—wandered onto his land. They were laughing, joking, oblivious to the danger lurking in the trees. Karl watched them from his hiding place, his heart aching with regret. He knew they wouldn't make it out. They never did. He couldn't save them. He didn't even try.
As the group ventured deeper into the forest, Karl followed at a distance, hidden in the twilight. He led them towards the clearing where the forgotten god waited, a monstrous, shadowy figure hunched over Bessie's pen.
The cow, sensing the presence of its god, mooed in distress, her eyes rolling with fear. The teenagers, hearing the sound, stopped, peering into the darkness.
"What the hell is that?" one of the girls, Laura, whispered, her voice barely audible.
Karl stepped out from the shadows, his face twisted in a grimace of pity and regret. "It's not what it looks like," he said, his voice barely more than a croak.
But it was too late. The teenagers had seen the god, and they couldn't look away. They tried to run, but the god moved faster, its long limbs stretching out to snatch them up one by one. Karl watched, helpless, as the teens screamed, their cries swallowed by the night. The god fed, and Karl's heart broke a little more with each drop of blood that fell to the ground.
By the time the sun rose the next morning, the clearing was quiet, the forest still. Karl stood at the edge of the woods, staring at the empty field where the god had disappeared. He knew he would go back to his farmhouse, tend to Bessie, and wait for the next victim. This was his fate now, a punishment for a crime he couldn't remember committing.
Tears streamed down Karl's face as he walked away, leaving behind the ruins of his humanity, a broken man bound to a dark destiny. There was no redemption, no escape. Only endless nights filled with screams and the hollow echo of the god's hunger.
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