The Hollow Village

There is a village cradled by mountains and veiled by mist and mystery.  One day, a man lost his way in those mountains and came across the village. He stood at the gate leading towards the village. The only way to the village was a small mountain pass which now lay behind the man. The man did not wait long before what he could only assume was a greeter, came to meet him.

The greeter looked sickly with large bags under his eyes. The greeter looked as though he had not slept in a long time or that sleep had left him.

“Ah, a traveler has come to our humble village. I assume you’ve come to take part in the Festival.” said the greeter as he bowed before the man. “Um, I didn’t come for...” the man confusedly said. “Please follow me and we’ll prepare some food for you” said the greeter as he interrupted the man.

The man walked with the greeter and as he did so the man looked around curiously. The village was depressing. It was dark and gloomy as though happiness had long since abandoned it. The buildings were ill-kept and falling apart by the seams.  There was no grass and nor were there plants, only a thick mud. It was though the village had been bathed in it. While looking around the man noticed that all of the villagers seemed to wander around aimlessly as though apathy had consumed them.

The greeter and the man arrived at a large building near the village centre. “This is the inn. Forgive us for it is not much but it is all we can offer” said the greeter. The ‘inn’ as the greeter called it, was dilapidated and falling apart much likes the rest of the buildings in the village. The man and the greeter walked up the mouldy, broken steps to enter the inn. The greeter entered through the swing doors first and the man followed close behind. The inside of the inn was no different than the village outside, it was dark and depressing.

The interior resembled an old western tavern, but the floor was covered in mud rather than dust. Standing by the bar in a neat line were several villagers. “Here are my staff, they will prepare some refreshments. I’m sorry to say that all we have is water” said the greeter. The villagers whom the greeter claimed to be his staff wore ragged and torn clothes and were much like the greeter in appearance; they had that same tired look in their eyes. “Please sit there, if it suits you” said the greeter while pointing towards a small table near a window. The man sat down and was served his water in an old clay cup. The greeter sat down opposite the man.

The man began to speak after he worked up enough courage. “Could you tell me the name of this village?” the man asked. “This village has no name so you may call it whatever you wish, sir.” The greeter informed. “That can’t be true. A place like this has to have a name.” said the man. “I apologise, I must have misspoke. This village has a name but it has been long forgotten. This village is very old so it is not surprising that its name has been forgotten.” The greeter informed. “Okay, that makes sense but how old is this village then?” The man inquired. “I wish I could remember how long it’s been here but it’s funny; no matter how hard I try I can’t seem to remember anything that’s important.” The greeter said with an uneasy grin on his face.

After that the man sat silently with cup in hand, thinking on the words the greeter had spoken. The man began to hear music if only faintly. “It appears that the Festival is starting and that means we should head there now.” said the greeter with an uncharacteristic smile. He actually looked happy and so did his “staff” which shattered the man’s first impressions of them.

They all rushed out of the building, the man following close behind. They ran to the village square which happened to be close by. When they arrived the man was surprised and delighted at the great decorations that were set up and the loud festive music that was being played. A large crowd had gathered in the square. In the centre of all that chaos lies a great bonfire, the flames of which reached high into the air as if they for trying to set the sky a light.

The square was very different from the rest of the village; the ground was hardened and dried earth unlike the thick mud that covered the rest of the village. It was as though that area had some great significance to be so different from everything else.

Everyone was dancing and having a good time. All the villagers had smiles on their faces and the man eventually joined in. He danced and made merry with the villagers until sunset. When the sun became low, the music abruptly stopped and the villagers became frozen in place facing the bonfire. They had blank faces as though all emotion had left them.

The man became confused and looked around for someone to tell him what was going on but no one answered him, they all just stared blankly at the bonfire. The man became frightened and pleaded with the villagers to stop playing around. In his confusion he notices a little girl eerily looking at him. There was nothing in that girl’s eyes; she looked as though she had no soul.

The man began to breathe heavily, his heart began to beat ever faster and his chest became heavy. He was afraid... So afraid he couldn’t move. The girl turned and pointed at the sun. The man looked and saw that it was about to set into the horizon. As it did, the sky became as blood and the man began to hear bloodcurdling screams and mad laughter but they weren’t coming from the villagers... They were coming from the bonfire.

He looked to the source of the screams and laughter and saw ungodly things in that accursed fire. The flickering flames became spirits in agony. They flew around the square both laughing and screaming in equal measure. The laughing and screaming became one sound and could no longer be told apart. The villagers began to burn up as spirits passed through them. They let out no sound as their bodies burnt up in an inferno.

The man was terrified and ran back to the inn. When he ran over the muddy ground, thousands of hands rose out of the mud and tried to grab at him. He noticed faces moaning and crying in the mud. He tried to run faster but they brought him to the ground and he got up again and again but it was no use they pulled him down in the mud. He screamed, shouted and kicked at everything but no one heard him. His screams became muffled as his mouth and chest filled up with mud. The last thing he saw was the child standing above him with that soulless face of hers then everything went black.

He awoke within the mountain pass leading to the village. He frantically felt his body to see if he was really okay. Nothing was wrong with him and he let out a great sigh.  He noticed that there was no mud on him, he was totally clean. He could have sworn that he was swallowed up by the ground. He began to hear the music again.

He was terrified but compelled by some strange force to go towards the music and the village. When he came to the end of the path and thought he would find the village but there was nothing there but bare earth. The buildings weren’t even there; there was no sign of anything ever being there.

Dazed and confused the man walked back through the mountain pass. Along the way he questioned himself. “Was it real? Did it really happen? Was I dreaming it?” He asked himself these questions over and over again until he came to a road. There was no traffic but there was a thick fog. He was still breathing heavily, still afraid. He chose a path down the road and began to walk; he didn’t care where the road, he only cared that it was away from this place.

Once he gained a fair distance down the road; he heard a scream. He looked back and there stood the little girl, that soulless little girl... He stood petrified as fear overtook him. The girl’s eyes rolled back into her head and she began to speak in an otherworldly voice. “We are the Shattered, the hollow men; beings who know nothing but suffering and agony. We were consumed by our own misfortune; by the hand fate had dealt us. We hated both ourselves and the world that had cruelly abandoned us. It was our anger, our hatred, our unforgiveness that cursed us to this existence. You shall never forget what you saw; what we allowed you to see. You will preach to the world our story. And you will guide the lost little lambs away from the all-consuming darkness. Teach the world what we failed to understand.”

“Why me? I didn’t ask for this” The man cried out. “Does a man really ask for his purpose” she answered. The man looked down to his feet and tears welled up in his eyes. He looked up and asked the girl “What did you fail you understand?” “If you cannot tell then you are blind to what matters most to all mankind” she answered. Behind her, people began to appear but they stood in small groups were as shadows in the fog. It was either two large figures standing next to each other or two large figures accompanied by smaller ones. One thing was the same; in every group the bodies held hands.

Two large figures walked up to the girl from behind. They walked out of the fog and could be seen clearly. A man and a woman stood at both sides of the girl. Her eyes became normal and her complexion brightened. She looked up to the two people with a sweet, innocent smile. She looked back to the man in the road and said in a sweet voice; “Please don’t forget us. Don’t let anyone suffer like we have. Tell the world of what we did not understand.” They turned around and walked into the fog. Their figures slowly faded away. As they faded away, the man swore he could hear the girl laughing joyously.
They were finally at peace...