#rcha

The little legs of an impoverished girl were not, however, meant to outrun the vagaries of nature, and when freezing et drops began falling, all Irene could think of was how stupid she was for running away from the shelter of her aunt’s home.

‘There I would have a roof over my head,’ she thought miserably, ‘and perhaps hot soup to warm up.’

But there was none to be found here. A light mist rose from the ground, and Irene stumbled around a corner and into the gap between two houses. It was quieter there, and damper, though she found there was a dry little nook at the very end she could fit herself into.

Irene stuffed herself into it, folding her legs under her and tucking her little hands into her armpits for warmth. A soft, stinging breeze whistled through the gap, chilling her to the bones. A dog’s long, plaintive howl filled the air.

The mist thickened. Something fell on her head – soft, like a moth landing – and Irene jumped. She touched her hair, but it was wet from soaked in snow and she could not feel anything, so she settled back again.

The dog howled again – high and mournful. Far away, a girl screamed. The mist thickened. Irene shivered. Then, something fell on her head again.

Irene lifted her hand up and patted her head. Nothing.

“Hello?” Irene called out.

Something wet and sloppy fell on her hand. A chill ran down her spine. Slowly, she looked up. Above her two glowing eyes blinked. As her eyes got used to the dark, Irene noticed the stringy hair and the gaping mouth. Yellow, rotting teeth gleamed. A drop of saliva dripped on her face.

Irene screamed. She jumped up and crawled out as fast as she could, scraping her hands on the ground. The dog howled, much closer. Faraway, a horse neighed. The creature dragged itself out of the alley.

“Reeeeee!” it cackled. Irene screamed again. Horror paralyzed her legs. Her heart pounded like drums and her brain begged her body to move, but all she could do was stand there, frozen. The monster before her stepped out into the light.

She – if it could be called such – was big and bloated, with a hollow for her nose and long, wet, stringy hair. Rags clung to her body, and above her left breast, right where her heart must have once been, was a gaping hole that wept blood. Her gleaming eyes were the same colour as her rotting teeth.

“Kekekeke!” she shrieked in delight, baring her jaws and holding out her hand to the little girl.

Irene screamed again. Her legs nearly gave out under her, but she righted herself, turned around and ran. Tears filled her eyes, blurring the sight of cobbled paths already treacherous with melting snow. Footsteps followed her, quickening to a run. Somewhere ahead, she heard hoofbeats.

“Help!” she screamed, praying it was a passing carriage. “Please, help me!”