Wet Footprints

'It hung from the tree in the darkened night, soulless eyes watching over her.' (First attempt at writing horror. Artwork is by

It hung from the tree in the darkened night, soulless eyes watching over her.

 

[x]

 

They had seen the smoke out from the bay, the black clouds billowing upwards towards the grey skies. They had sent out a rescue boat, but when they arrived at the scene, it quickly turned from that to a recovery mission. Burning debris floated by on the water's surface, the acrid smell of smoke and charred flesh mixing with the saltiness of the sea air. After combing the entire area for days, they had to call the search off, their attempts at finding the man behind the mask gone to waste.

Upon returning to the city, Korra and her friends received the news. The groups reaction had been mostly one-sided, many filled with a bitter resentment and silent gratefulness that the dirty deed had been done. Save for one soul of their small family. One lonely soul who was suddenly wracked with a heavy guilt and remorse. Why was she feeling this way towards the man who haunted her dreams and took her bending from her?

She would mark it off as exhaustion from the trip home.

 

[x]

 

It had been a week since their return from the south and still the guilt had been with Korra, growing with each day that passed. It was a heavy anchor around her heart, clenching it tightly in a vice-like grip and weighing it down. Everyone had taken notice of her recent change of mood and appearance, commenting on how tired she seemed and listless in her movements.

In truth, she couldn't sleep at night. She would always wake drenched in sweat and breathing heavily, scanning the shadowed room with wild eyes as if expecting to find someone in the room with her. Of course, there never was save for Naga, but the seed of doubt and paranoia had been planted.

She would blame it on the long hours of restoring bending to those who lost it.

 

[x]

 

It was three weeks after her friends and family began to comment on her sleeping habits did she start to notice the small things that were going on around her room. Books and scrolls would be moved, the room itself had taken on a musty rotten smell, and there was always water everywhere. At first, she thought the airbending children had been up to their games, or that her pet had decided to shake off after a swim in her room. These seemed to be logical assumptions, but the gnawing sense of dread that slowly started to cloud her judgment made these obvious assumptions hard to believe.

Korra confronted her friends about it, though they passed it off as lack of sleep. Perhaps they were right….

 

[x]

 

They were wrong.

The Avatar had opted to shower longer than her normal length of time, letting the hot water beat against her body, each drop rolling down her still body. For the past few nights, she couldn't shake this unusual feeling deep within her. It made her blood run cold, made the tiny hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. It only occurred when she was alone, separated from the others. It had become so unbearable at night she had been sharing Asami's room, insisting her own was too stuffy and uncomfortable. The heiress had said nothing, allowing her friend to stay as long as needed.

Korra turned the water off, slowly stepping out of the shower and looking around the small room, letting out a breath of air she had not realized she had been holding. There was nothing wrong. Nothing to fear. She was alone in the room and that was that. She sighed, walking up towards the small sink and fogged mirror, swiping her hand across the smooth surface.

Her reflection stared back at her.

So did his.

She whipped her head around with a small scream, finding nothing but steam and another set of wet footprints leading away from her. After a few nights of questioning this feeling that she couldn't quite place, she finally had a name for it.

Fear.

 

[x]

 

She never told anyone of her night in the shower room. Her already shortened sleeping had been cut back by the many interruptions throughout the night by the screaming fits she would have, blindly lashing out at her unknown assailants. It was becoming more and more of a problem, especially when everyone noticed it began to effect her bending. It was a slight change, nearly imperceptible at first, though it gradually grew until she could barely create a spark, or form a small water whip. She became so frustrated that she actually lashed out at Mako one night when he tried to approach her, striking him across the face. He didn't say anything, though the hurt in his eyes spoke louder than anything he could ever vocalize to the Avatar. After that, she holed herself up in her room, going over every available text they had on hand to discover her illness. That's all it had to be, was an illness of some sort. If they found out what it was, then they could cure it. She continuously told herself that, willing herself to believe her lie. Maybe if she said it out loud enough times, it would be true.

On her way to the bedroom one night, she paused in thought, looking down at the wet footprints that stood in front of her open door. Fear had become a semi-permanent feeling at this point in time.

 

[x]

 

Her eating habits had drastically altered. It was to the point that someone had to sit by her side and almost hold her hand to ensure that she ate. Her features became gaunt, once vivid blue eyes slowly becoming hard and dull. Mako begged her to leave her room, but each attempt was met with a harsh comment on how she had to study. He continuously pleaded with her until she gave up trying to talk to him altogether. Didn't he realize how important it was for her to study? She had to find the cure to this illness. There had to be one somewhere.

He never gave up trying to convince her to leave.

It was five nights after Mako and Bolin tried to take her to the first probending match of the season did she see him again.

Korra had lay in bed, hands clenching the thin sheets on her bed till her knuckles were white. Her head tossed side to side, face scrunched up in pain as the endless nightmares danced through her mind. Fire and water, burned flesh and pale skin. Drip drip drip. Cold hands closing around her throat. Dead eyes.

Drip drip…

…drip.

She shivered violently, pulling the covers around her body tightly. Why couldn't she get warm? It was the same thing as it was for the past few weeks, though it seemed to be worse tonight. No amount of hot showers could stop the small tremors that ran through her body every day.

Drip drip…

… drip.

Couldn't someone turn off that damn faucet?

Blue eyes slowly opened, growing accustomed to the dark quickly. Out of normal routine she scanned the room, searching for something that shouldn't be there.

Case in point the lone figure standing at the foot of her bed.

Her heart slammed in her chest, fear preventing her from crying out for help. He stood completely immobile, hidden in the shadows of her room. Korra's breathing came out in short gasps for air, each breath she took heavy with the stench of rot and death. The figure stepped closer stiffly, emitting a squelching sound as his foot hit the floor with each movement. The closer he got, the more detail she was able to see and wish she didn't. Grayish tinted skin glistened as the moonlight struck it through her open window, pale blue lips moving noiselessly and spewing bloody water. Multiple lacerations covered his body, some deeper than others, showing all the way through to the bone. What remained of his charred clothes hung loosely on his body, threatening to fall off with each awkward step he took towards the frightened teen. None of that though could compare to the fear she felt when she looked in his eyes, dark and hollow, endlessly staring back at her in the night. He held up a hand to her, void of all flesh and most muscles as he reached for her, getting as close as an inch before she got the better of her fear.

She never screamed as loud as she had that night.

Korra jumped backwards, trying to kick the sheets off and make a run for the door away from him but tripped, falling on the cold floor in a jumbled heap. She kicked with all her might, lethargic muscles meekly pulling at the mess of fabric that had entangled her in the first place. Cold hands secured around her ankle, clawing softly as she was pulled towards the bed. She made the mistake of looking behind her, breath hitching at the man dragged her back towards him. Water flowed out of his mouth, hitting the floor and her bare leg, chilling her to the core. She begged to be set free, tears pooling in her eyes as she dug her short nails in the wooden floor in a last attempt to save herself.

Dark eyes stared at her without remorse, pulling her into the shadowed confines under the bed, not once stopping as she screamed until her throat was raw.

 

[x]

 

They found her shortly after, bundled tightly in her sheets and pushed back into the far corner under her bed. When trying to talk to the Avatar turned into silence, they moved the bed, tentatively stepping closer towards her. Most of her sheet was soaked in sweat and tears, causing her to shiver uncontrollably. Tenzin coaxed her into his arms, easing her to her feet and leading the waterbender out of the room and away from the nightmare that plagued her.

Mako stared hard at the claw marks on the floorboards, his brows knitting in concern. He knelt down, his fingers grazing over them lightly and coming back wet. He began to question it, but was stopped by Bolin, mentioning that it would be best to call the chief of police. The Firebender nodded, walking out of the room without looking back.

No one noticed the wet footprints in the far off corner near her closet door.

 

[x]

 

Since that night, she had not spoken a word, staring out windows or looking in mirrors, as if searching for the woman she use to be. They had decided that all the Avatar needed was a break. She had been over worked from restoring everyone's bending, and the guilt of the bloodbender's death had affected her in an odd way. She felt guilty over it, possibly blaming herself over the incident. In lieu of recent events, the brothers had been placed in charge of escorting her back home for a sense of spiritual rehabilitation. The night before leaving, she ventured outside, coming face to face with the ghost of her past.

It hung from the tree in the darkened night, soulless eyes watching over her.

The earthbender had insisted that after a little rest and relaxation she would be back in the game. His brother would smile softly and would only touch her if leading her around on the deck of the large ship they had been issued, afraid that if he touched her in the wrong way she would break. She wasn't fragile. She wasn't scared. Korra slowly walked into the small bathroom suite that she shared with the brothers, silently opening the door and walking over towards the mirror.

His reflection stared back at her.

Hers did not.

Korra looked down at her hand, slowly turning it over and inspecting the many number of small scars that had accumulated over the years of her rigorous training. Looking back over her shoulder at the slumbering brothers in the room next door, the waterbender glided across the floor soundlessly, stopping only for a moment at her bunk to retrieve the final touch. She opened her bag, pulling out the painted mask that had made the bloodbender infamous throughout the city, that had made him the face of the revolution. Her thumb ran over the smooth surface in thought before she slipped it on, turning around and looking through the slits at the restless Firebender, slowly moving forward towards him. She stood, face obscured by the shadows of the room as she stood at the head of his bunk, peering down at his sleeping form.

Mako rolled over, slowly pulling an eye open and looking up at her in dazed confusion. He started to sit up when she stopped him, placing a cool hand on his bare shoulder and easing him back on the mattress. She leaned down close to his ear, her voice muffled slightly by the mask as she whispered softly into the night. Whether by the mask itself or lack of talking the past few days, her voice sounded foreign to the firebender's ears, coming off as cold and deceptive. Ochre eyes widened when she placed her thumb in the middle of his forehead.

"Go back to sleep."

Author's Note

As mentioned earlier, this was one of my first attempts at writing for the horror genre. Hopefully it will improve over time but for a beginner's piece I would say it's 'eh'.

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

I enjoyed the story. I like the tone and the flow of the story. You were giving enough to keep the reader involved. I like the detailed description. Making the situation come alive. I like the feel of mystery and fear leading to a very good closing. Thank you for sharing the excellent story.
Coyote

[Marie leitner]

Thank you for leaving such a positive review on this piece.

[Coyote Poetry]

You are welcome.