The Devil's Daughter by Clifford Beck - HTML preview

Chapter 1

It was the spring equinox of 1923, and the end of the planting season. It was also a time of great celebration for the people of Gura Haith, as children danced and sang folk songs, while the women of the village prepared the holiday meal. The men, however, were busy on the terraces, tending to the gardens. It was arduous work but far better than starving. In the winter, food was always rationed among the people and everyone was well cared for. The very young and the very old always came first. The old stood as the bearers of history, while the young carried the responsibility of preserving it, as well as continuing the existence of the village.

It sat hidden away for centuries in the Eastern Carpathian Mountains of Romania, completely self-sufficient, cut off from the world, save for a few other villages that lay in the distance. Uncorrupted by the world, the people of Gura Haith led simple lives. They would never have everything they wanted, but always had what they needed. None would ever attend a university, yet they had learned how to survive, how to react to danger, and how to care for one another. It was what kept the village alive, century after century, and would never change, even in the face of a crisis. However, there was one man in the village who represented change, and the influence of the outside world. Four centuries ago, they had been discovered by the church, and in an attempt to reach out for as much wealth as possible, God was sent to Gura Haith in the form of a priest. As one passed, another would be sent, thus, maintaining the continuity of divine authority, as well as the acquisition of what meager fortune the village earned. But despite the church's continued influence, the people still held fast to the old ways, myths, legends, and lore – stories of dark things that wandered the mountains and woods, peering out through the midnight forest, with hunger in their eyes. They hung strings of garlic around their thatch-roofed houses and watched, with steak and mallet in hand, as the dying passed, ready to strike in the event they reached out a lifeless hand to the living. Naturally, this never happened, but it is belief that molds reality, as well as the fear of death.