Moonlight broke through the bare branches overhead, tumbling down to land upon a withered
face, lighting it in a milky glow. Lines cut vagarious across that leathery skin, and patches of thin
wispy hair lay across chin and cheek. The eyes were cold and blue, hateful in that small
illumination dripping from overheard. They stared down at the boy, gleaming with ghostly
venom.
It was impossible to look away from those eyes, large balls of ice like frozen ponds on a barren
land. And the longer the boy stared, the clearer he could see himself there, trapped behind those
solid blue-white orbs.
Old Man Dudden stepped forward, his body twisting as he struggled to pull his right leg along
with him, the appendage a terrible burden. The contents of the jar clutched to his side shifted as
he moved; the watery refuse lining the bottom slurped sickly within the glass confine.
“Another heart,” Old Man Dudden said in a hollow, tired voice. He lifted a clawed hand and
reached for the boy, a frigid whisper leaving his throat.
The boy tried to scream, tried to give substance to the fear immobilizing him. Nothing rose from
his clenching throat but a faltering breath. The hand fell upon his chest, both icy and hot. The
sensation wasn’t painful, but the boy didn’t dare glance down. It was quick, a slight tug that
caused the boy’s back to arch. And then, as Old Man Dudden claimed his prize, the forest rose
up to claim the boy, a kind and pitiful gesture. It pulled the youth into the loam, into the tangles
of roots that scratched through the earth, wrapping him in a stiff embrace.
The cork left the jar with a hint of a pop, and the shaking hand of a man long damned deposited
the wet muscle inside. Stopping the jar once more, Old Man Dudden turned to shamble away, his
thoughts dark as he counted what he carried. Too many hearts.
A perfect sun burned in a perfect sky above a long stretch of highway. Age was difficult to place
upon the lone woman travelling the lane. The pastel blue of her dress went untouched by the dirt
of the road as it swayed out around her ankles. Her long hair blazed red in the afternoon light,
loose and flowing around a face that spoke of years yet shined with the light of youth. As she
followed the rising of the road leading to a quaint village she happened upon a young woman,
one balancing the end of her teen years, sitting in the short grass beside the highway. The girl’s
eyes were red with hard crying, and still her tired weeping shook her willowy frame. Small hands
were folded in her lap, tangled in the stained apron bunched between her legs.
“Whatever is the matter, child?” the woman in blue asked as she stepped off the road.
The young girl glanced up and wiped at her eyes. For a brief moment she marveled at the beauty
of the woman come to her aid, and all at once felt shame at the concern etched on those flawless
features. “I am sad, lady.” The girl turned her eyes down. “My heart is broken.”
“Broken?” the lady in blue asked as she took a seat beside the girl.
