Part 46 "The Unclean"

PART 46: THE UNCLEAN

Transcripts made & edited by jack, Lambda, and K.M.

CWs: dead animals, sounds of gore, mind control, drugging, discussions of past alcoholism/past parental abuse, cults/human sacrifice, discussions of child death, vomiting, corpses, insect noises

 

(BEGIN Part 46.)

 

(A crackling fire. Buzzing insects. Wood creaks and snaps. A baby cries out.) 

 

ARTHUR (waking up abruptly): Faroe? Faroe? 

 

JOHN (out of it): Wha – What? 

 

ARTHUR: I… (He breathes shakily.) Did you hear that?

 

JOHN: Hear? No, I-I was… I had drifted off in thought. What’s wrong?

 

ARTHUR: There’s… (He pants.) I-I-I was dreaming, but… I… I don’t know. (Wood creaks.) There! There it is. Y-You heard that?

 

JOHN: Yes.

 

ARTHUR: Where am I? W-Where are we? 

 

JOHN: Still in the village. By the fire, remember?

 

ARTHUR (exhaling, quiet): Right, right.

 

JOHN: Though the fire is almost nothing but embers, now. Do you remember Malam visited us? 

 

ARTHUR: Yes. How long ago was…? 

 

JOHN: Hours. You’ve been fast asleep. (Arthur sighs.) It’s… probably an animal, Arthur. 

 

ARTHUR: Maybe. Probably. Y-Yes, you’re right. (Dirt shifts.) I… oh, it’s freezing. (He shivers.) The fire’s almost done.

 

JOHN: Yes. Sorry, I… I didn’t even notice. I-I…

 

ARTHUR: You were… sleeping? Or…

 

JOHN: No, no. Just… (Arthur yawns.) Thinking. 

 

ARTHUR (still yawning): What about?

 

JOHN: Oh. Nothing important. Just… idle… just nonsense. You should try to go back to sleep.

 

ARTHUR: No, I care, I do. Tell me, I-I want –

 

JOHN: You should sleep.

 

ARTHUR: I will, I will. (He sighs. Dirt shifts.) Tell me what you were just thinking about.

 

JOHN: Eh, sure. I-It was just… just… things. (‘How Far We’ve Come’ begins.) Things sparked by what Malam had said, o-or rather, the story he told about the villagers and, well… about… hope. And… and the light that follows you. And… and the power that… she gives you. 

 

ARTHUR: Mm.

 

JOHN: Well, I was thinking about that. That light. And it made me think about my own light. Which made me think about… Lilly. The nurse that… gave me my name. 

 

ARTHUR: Of course. 

 

JOHN: How she… took care of us. Of me. You know, the witch… when I told her that, she really… twisted my words. She took what I learned from that month and she tried to taint it.

 

ARTHUR (groggy): Mhm.

 

JOHN: But I didn’t let her. And during the time you were… recovering, I-I was thinking about her. Lilly, I mean. And how much I love her. And… (He sighs.)

 

ARTHUR: And?

 

JOHN: I told you, it’s-it’s rambling, idle nonsense, I… and I thought about that story you told. On the train. And… And in the elevator, at the Masonic Lodge, to Percival. In New York City.

 

ARTHUR: Oh?

 

JOHN: The one about the man who was traveling alone in the wilderness. Through the frozen wasteland of the north, towards an old friend of his, only to be turned away when he arrives, and… and he wasn’t a good man… h-he had killed someone, he wasn’t… a righteous… man. 

 

ARTHUR: No. 

 

JOHN: And yet. The woman… follows him out into the snow. (A string instrument joins the melody.) Joins him. Comforts him. Saves him. And he sleeps in her arms, safely and securely. Her coming had… driven out the world. 

 

ARTHUR: Mm.

 

JOHN: I wondered why, at the time, I was so enraptured with the story. Why I felt… like I understood how such a gesture can… drive out the world. 

 

ARTHUR: Lilly.

 

JOHN: Perhaps I’m making too much of a… moment. From… something a kind nurse thought little of. But I suppose that even if it was another day for her, it doesn’t lessen the way it changed my life. She gave me my name. 

 

ARTHUR: Well. Thank you, Lilly. You gave my friend so much. (John exhales. A baby giggles. Arthur gasps.) That’s no fucking animal!

 

JOHN: No, it is not. 

 

ARTHUR: What do you see?

 

JOHN: Nothing! The moon is above the canopy and the trees allow little light through. What embers remain of the fire obfuscate the woods beyond! Could it be Malam? 

 

ARTHUR: No. This feels… distinctly different. The air feels thinner. 

 

JOHN: It does, doesn’t it? Malam said… the fire would invite things. (Wood creaks at a distance.)

 

ARTHUR (shushing him): Something’s out there. Watching. 

 

JOHN: He said: ‘In these woods live beings.’

 

ARTHUR: How far away is daylight?

 

JOHN: I don’t know.

 

ARTHUR: Well, how long was I asleep, I –

 

JOHN (flustered): I told you, a few hours, I-I –

 

ARTHUR: Fuck. We should… leave, or… 

 

JOHN (protesting): Arthur.

 

ARTHUR: W-Well, staying here – we should put out this fire. Truly and properly. (Dirt shifts.)

 

JOHN: Dirt?

 

ARTHUR: Yes, help me. (More dirt shifting. He grunts in exertion.)

 

JOHN: Right. It’s out, it’s out. The last embers are hidden. My eyes are adjusting to the darkness. (A slow piano melody begins.)

 

ARTHUR: Okay.

 

JOHN: And… And there’s… light. 

 

ARTHUR: A light?

 

JOHN: Multiple lights, dancing lights!

 

(Faraway noise, like something breathing.)

 

ARTHUR: Fireflies?

 

JOHN: No, no. These are lights, Arthur. Small bulbs, not blinking, but… moving, dancing. Swaying back and forth. They’re warm and yellow. Close together, like little stars, and the soft light that glows around radiates between the trees. Almost… like a lantern. 

 

ARTHUR: A lantern?

 

JOHN: Yes, but they move unlike anything I’ve ever seen! What are they? 

 

ARTHUR: I… I don’t know. When I was y-young, I remember… I remember hearing about… about lights in the woods. F-Fairy spirits, but.

 

(A baby laughs at a distance. John gasps.) 

 

JOHN: It’s coming from the direction of the lights. (Dirt shifts. Arthur grunts in exertion.) Arthur! Where are you –

 

ARTHUR (quietly): I-I-I don’t know. S-Something feels… as if they want to help us. 

(A mysterious melody begins.)

 

JOHN: Help us? You… Do you think?

 

ARTHUR: I do, I really do. I really do. Look, we-we shouldn’t just sit here. We should see… where they lead. 

 

JOHN: Alright. 

 

ARTHUR: Right?

 

JOHN: I suppose, if you – if you think… that…

 

ARTHUR (haltingly): I do. I… did. (An otherworldly echo.) No. (Confused.) Wait, wait.

 

JOHN: What?

 

ARTHUR: No, that’s – (Emphatic.) No, no, no, we… we need to remain. We need to stay here. (A slow piano melody begins.) Where we know what the…

 

JOHN: Yes, I… agree. (Stuttering.) The-the-the lights are…

 

ARTHUR (out of breath): What is happening? That felt… like a pull, like something was manipulating me.

 

JOHN: Something is.

 

ARTHUR (whispering): The lights. (Normally.) I do remember something about fairy lights leading travelers astray. We shouldn’t follow them.

 

JOHN: I feel it, too. Seeing them, it’s like… I sense this… call to follow them.

 

ARTHUR: I know, I know. We can’t.

 

(The sound of a child laughing. Arthur gasps.)

 

JOHN: So we just stay here? The fire is out, covered in dirt. We won’t be able to relight it easily.

 

ARTHUR (shakily): Yes, yes. We just… stay.

 

JOHN: It feels awfully exposed here, Arthur. In the dark, without light.

 

(Snapping branches in the distance.)

 

ARTHUR: Friar’s Lantern, that’s… that’s what it was called.

 

JOHN (not understanding): Friar’s Lantern? (A mysterious piano melody begins.)

 

ARTHUR: Yes, I remember hearing about them. Little beings that led travelers astray, making you follow their lights to a bog or a waterfall, and then they blow out the light, leaving you lost and abandoned. I don’t know if that’s what we’re seeing now, but so long as we remain here, so long as we don’t follow the lights, they – they can’t hurt us.

 

JOHN: And… what if the light comes to us?

 

(An ominous tone.)

 

ARTHUR: What?

 

(Wood creaks in the distance.)

 

JOHN: They’re growing closer, Arthur.

 

ARTHUR (whispering): Then no. The houses, quickly!

 

JOHN: To your right! (Arthur moves.) Here, here. (Footsteps on wood.) This is the other hut we hadn’t entered. Quickly! To the left of the doorway is a window. Crouch behind it so I can see. There! (Arthur gasps.) The lights are still approaching, slowly. (A pause. Something creaks.) This cabin is similar to the other one, though I… there’s something carved into the wall here. Almost… almost like a mural or… a shrine.

 

ARTHUR: A shrine?

 

JOHN: I can’t make out much. The moonlight is barely enough to illuminate the firepit we just slept beside but it looks as if it’s a… a stone. (An ominous melody begins.) A large stone, crying.

 

ARTHUR: Crying?

 

JOHN: A sea of candles burned down to pools of wax lay beneath the wall. Beds in this room are merely piles of dried leaves. Nests. They must've prayed for days here. (The sound of shifting wood.) 

 

ARTHUR: The lights?

 

JOHN: Yes, yes. The lights are nearly at the edge of the village. (Footsteps.) They still dance, jostle, spin, and dive, like they’re alive themselves. A patch of moonlight sits at the center of where we slept. The lights approach. (Arthur gasps shakily.) It is… a child, carrying the lantern. (A mysterious melody begins. A child cries.) He stands near where the fire was. He has a mess of dark hair, his face expressionless… or perhaps that of… loss. He’s looking around. He’s picked up… (Fabric shifting. Scathingly.) Our bag!

 

ARTHUR (quietly): Fuck!

 

JOHN: You left it?

 

ARTHUR: It was –

 

JOHN: God damn it, Arthur!

 

ARTHUR: I was half asleep. I-I…

 

JOHN: He’s picked it up and he’s… he’s leaving. Jesus fucking –

 

ARTHUR: Damn it.

 

JOHN: Well, that’s it. We’ve lost it. We can’t go after the bag, not knowing what’s at risk.

 

ARTHUR: I know. (A short pause.) But.

 

JOHN: But!? (Annoyed.) Arthur, that bag is just things! Most of which, I'm sorry to say, are largely sentimental. You have your lighter, and that’s the most essential. The rest can go.

 

ARTHUR: Listen to me. Yorick is in there as well, in the bag.

 

JOHN (astonished): Yorick!? Who gives a fuck about Yorick? This child could be a part of Mother Darkness, Arthur. It has nothing to do with the Blackstone. Let it go.

 

ARTHUR (insistent): Listen to me! How quickly was Yorick ready to tell the witch everything after I died? (A slow melody begins.) How quickly was he ready to let any and all secrets bare to his new master once I was out of the picture? You told me that. (Fabric shifts.) The Blackstone is all that matters. Agreed?

 

JOHN: Yes.

 

ARTHUR: So, fuck Mother Darkness. Fuck whatever bullshit she has coming for us. Kayne is clearly more powerful. Even if not as he was, surely as he is now. The last remaining of his kind in all dimensions. We are here to serve his purpose, as unfortunate as that is. And the only thing to know more about the Blackstone and us than we do is in that bag. We need to get him back.

 

(John sighs.)

 

ARTHUR: Look, we know what it is. I – we know these lights are dangerous. We wouldn’t be walking into a trap blindly.

 

JOHN: We’d be walking in with my eyes wide open.

 

ARTHUR (sudden inhale): Tell me I'm wrong, then. Tell me we can afford to lose Yorick and have him reveal any and all secrets to the enemy.

 

JOHN: If that is Mother Darkness –

 

ARTHUR: You said it!

 

JOHN (snapping): You’re right, okay? (Arthur sighs. Gentler.) You’re right. (He breathes slowly.) Okay. Let’s follow… at a distance.

 

ARTHUR: I’m sorry I left the bag.

 

JOHN: Let’s move.

 

(Arthur grunts. Footsteps on wood. The crickets grow louder.)

 

JOHN (amidst Arthur’s footsteps): The child has left the fireside where we just were. The lights are barely visible now, retreating into the woods. (Insistent.) Stay low! 

 

Feel for the trees and move around them. Straight ahead now. The lights grow brighter as we approach. The child holds the lantern out before him as if beckoning those in the woods to find him. The lights… dance within the lantern. He stopped! (Footsteps stop.) In a beam of moonlight next to a tall willow tree. He’s turned around. He’s facing our direction, although I don't think he’s seen us. He’s… He’s setting our bag down by the trunk of the tree. Arthur, we can get it… and leave!

 

ARTHUR: What is he doing?

 

JOHN: H-He’s moved to the side. He’s set the lantern down and is hunched over something. I can’t see. It’s… dim, but… but the bag, Arthur, it's a straight path to the bag. We can grab it and head back the way we came.

 

ARTHUR: Yes, yes, let’s.

 

JOHN: We, we just… we just need to i-ignore the… the lights.

 

ARTHUR (softly): We… We will. (A child laughing.) We can.

 

JOHN (softly): Right. We will. We… 

 

ARTHUR (quietly): Right. Where is the… the bag? Straight ahead? I… 

 

JOHN: Stay low! (Arthur grunts.) The child is still hunched over, looking at… something, off to the right. Q-Quietly, now. (Footsteps.) Stop! Stop. Wait. Don’t move. He’s raised his head, scanning the treeline to the right. Don’t make a sound. He… (John exhales.) He’s put his head back down. Now, Arthur! Move! (Footsteps.) Almost… there. W… We’re almost at… what is he doing?

 

ARTHUR (whispering): John. John, the willow –

 

JOHN: He’s… bent over something. The lantern is by his side, on the ground. 

 

ARTHUR: Why? What could he be – ?

 

JOHN (mesmerized): The light is just… there.

 

ARTHUR: We… We need to resist. Remember? 

 

JOHN: Right. 

 

ARTHUR: Which way?

 

JOHN (gathering himself): Right, right.

 

ARTHUR: Where is the bag? (Short pause.) John! 

 

JOHN: What is he hunched over?

 

ARTHUR: It doesn’t matter. (Unsteady.) We… We can’t…

 

JOHN: You said it. Maybe this isn’t Mother Darkness or the Friar’s Lantern. What if this is something… to help us? Maybe they want to help us! 

 

ARTHUR: They? They… 

 

JOHN: They do.

 

ARTHUR (mesmerized): They do, don’t they? 

 

JOHN: I’m sorry, but you’re – you’re wrong about them wanting to lead us astray.

 

ARTHUR: I am…

 

JOHN: The lights are guiding us, like… like the creature! In the mines, in the Dreamlands! The dancing lights… 

 

ARTHUR: The lights…

 

JOHN: They are… guides. (Approaching footsteps. Labored breathing.) H-He’s here! To our right. Looking at us. H-He… He’s got your bag. Somehow he managed to grab it from… (Footsteps.) He’s just before us, now, the bag extended in his hand. 

 

ARTHUR: Thank you. (The flutter of fabric.)

 

JOHN: See? He… (Footsteps.) No. He’s turned his back to us, again, returning to what he was doing.

 

ARTHUR: Don’t… Don’t turn away. We saw your light. From the village. In the woods. 

 

JOHN: His cloak is covering whatever he has before him on the ground.

 

ARTHUR: You… You wanted us to follow? (Footsteps.)

 

JOHN: The boy has his hood pulled up. If you step to the left, I could see over his shoulder. 

 

ARTHUR: Please. 

 

JOHN (in shock): Oh. 

 

ARTHUR: What?

 

JOHN: A deer. Its… hindquarters are… (Continuous squelching.) Bloody and torn. The boy is… h-he’s… eating the deer. Raw. (Arthur makes noises of fear.)

 

ARTHUR (urgently): No, no. Stop. Stop, stop, stop. Stop that. Don’t, don’t eat that, you’ll get sick, it’s raw, you-you – (The squelching stops. The labored breathing continues.)

 

JOHN (a noise of disgust): Arthur, he’s – he’s not!

 

ARTHUR: What?

 

JOHN: This is not a child!

 

ARTHUR: What?

 

JOHN: The creature looking up at us from beneath the hood is… horrific! (Arthur gasps.) Jagged teeth breaking through parts of its lips…

 

ARTHUR: I…

 

JOHN: His eyes are deep, red, and angry!

 

ARTHUR: I…

 

JOHN: Blood drips down the wide mouth, which grins at us in the moonlight! And, and wisps of thinning hair curl down from beneath the hood.

 

ARTHUR (unsteady): Please. Please. L-Lead us…

 

JOHN: He… He’s rising, though… (Dirt shifts.) Though short in stature, he has a menacing presence.

 

ARTHUR: We only sought your light. (Metal clicking.) 

 

JOHN: He’s picked up the lantern. And with a long, twisted finger… he’s pointing… at us. 

 

ARTHUR: Yes. Yes. We seek an exit. Please. We just want to leave. 

 

JOHN: He’s turned around, and is leading us through the woods! Follow him! (Footsteps.)

 

ARTHUR: Yes, yes. We’ll follow him, maybe back to the road, or… or at least… away from the woods… (He stutters.)

 

JOHN: What?

 

ARTHUR: To… (Stronger.) No, no, wait. The lights… John, he’s leading us again. We’re just… following. Where is the clearing?

 

JOHN: Behind us.

 

ARTHUR: We… We can’t…(He grunts in frustration.)

 

JOHN: We can’t. He-He’s leading us, Arthur, to…

 

ARTHUR: To what? You don’t know.

 

JOHN: To… I… 

 

ARTHUR: We need to turn back.

 

JOHN (shaky): I-I…

 

ARTHUR: Where is the clearing?

 

JOHN: I-I don’t see it. I don’t see anything familiar.

 

ARTHUR: Jesus. 

 

JOHN: H-He’s leaving!

 

ARTHUR: Okay.

 

JOHN: Quickly! (Footsteps.)

 

ARTHUR: Okay, okay.

 

JOHN: Left. (The sound of foliage.) There! The trees break ahead. Maybe he’s led us back to the village, or the road. 

 

ARTHUR: Where? Where are we? 

 

(Sounds of labored breathing.) 

 

JOHN: He’s… He’s standing, in a… there are stones, all around him, he… he’s turned to face us. Standing next to a… a spring of water. 

 

ARTHUR: Water? From where?

 

JOHN: It’s coming from out of the ground. Like a natural spring, burbling and collecting in a small pool of clear blue water. It looks… inviting. (Footsteps.)

 

ARTHUR: Why have you led us here? 

 

JOHN: He gestures to the water and to the stones around him, they’re… they’re graves, Arthur! Stones piled upon each other to cover the dead. 

 

ARTHUR: From the village?

 

JOHN: It must be. W-We’re not far. 

 

ARTHUR: Why have you brought us – ? (John gasps.)

 

JOHN: He’s gone, Arthur!

 

ARTHUR: What?

 

JOHN: He’s gone!

 

ARTHUR: What? (Panicking.) No no no no –

 

JOHN: His lantern is gone, he’s – (ARTHUR: No, no!) There’s nothing here.

 

ARTHUR (yelling): No! 

 

(Arthur makes noises of distress.)

 

JOHN: Just the spring. And the stones. We… look, look, this graveyard… is clearly close to the village. We can’t have gone far. 

 

ARTHUR (stressed): No. No, we couldn’t have. We couldn’t have. He… God damn it. I feel like such a fool. (He grunts in frustration.) The lights, I can’t… I can’t even think straight. They’ve clouded my mind. (Footsteps. The sounds of trickling water.) He… He wanted us to drink from this. 

 

JOHN: I think so. The waters reflect the moonlight. Glints of blue, like gemstones, dance along the surface of the water. It looks… inviting. 

 

ARTHUR (quietly): Does it? I am… I am parched. 

 

(A mysterious melody begins.)

 

JOHN: We’ve come this far. Perhaps we should see what this… spring offers. 

 

ARTHUR: Perhaps.

 

JOHN (haltingly): You drank from the stream, earlier, without a second thought. 

 

ARTHUR (quietly): I did, didn’t I?

 

JOHN (softly): Then… drink. 

 

ARTHUR: I… (Water splashes.) No. No, John. We can’t. 

 

JOHN: What?

 

ARTHUR: We can’t. (Water splashes.)

 

JOHN: Why? We are…

 

ARTHUR: I won’t. (John makes soft noises. A soft melody begins.) This place… a graveyard. Why did he lead us here? 

 

JOHN: You said… the Friar’s Light… it leads men astray, lost in darkness.

 

ARTHUR: This isn’t darkness. This is… this is not a chasm, or a hole. 

 

JOHN: No. I can see the woods that surround. Graves, piled high with stone. 

 

ARTHUR (ominously): I feel something here. 

 

JOHN: Something? 

 

ARTHUR: In the air. (Whispering.) Are we being watched? 

 

JOHN: The trees that ring the graveyard are tall and thick. The trunks, almost like walls, as if one large tree surrounding us. 

 

ARTHUR: One?

 

JOHN: I can’t see the forest for the trees, they… encircle us, in this graveyard. Nothing gets through. No further into the forest. Not the eyes of those who may be watching. Nothing. 

 

ARTHUR: The center of the forest. 

 

JOHN: The heart. 

 

ARTHUR: What lies at the heart? (Soft rustling.) There must be something here.

 

JOHN: Graves are marked by stones. In between them, the grass sits, a lush verdant green washed out in the moon’s hue. The canopy opens wide to the skies above. A cloudless night. 

 

ARTHUR: Night… still. 

 

JOHN: I don’t remember how long we’ve been moving through these woods.

 

ARTHUR: It’s only been minutes.

 

JOHN: Has it been?

 

ARTHUR (uncertain): I… I think so. 

 

JOHN: You’re so sure we’re by the village, still, but I don’t… I don’t feel like we’re in the same woods at all. In fact, this feels like a different forest entirely.

 

ARTHUR: A different… forest. (Rustling.) Doesn’t this remind you of the forest… in the Dreamlands? 

 

JOHN: I… I suppose so. 

 

ARTHUR: We fed that forest. 

 

JOHN: Are we to be this forest’s meal as well? 

 

ARTHUR: I don’t know. I… ugh, my head is spinning. I feel like… I’m in a dream, or… 

 

JOHN: Huh. Odd.

 

ARTHUR: What?

 

JOHN: Here, in the center of the graveyard, practically.

 

ARTHUR: What is it?

 

JOHN: On the ground is a ring of… mushrooms, almost a perfect circle.

 

ARTHUR (chuckling): A fairy ring.

 

JOHN: A fairy ring? (Arthur continues to chuckle.) You mentioned fairies… (Arthur’s grunts of exertion. Arthur sniffing.) When the lights began. Arthur, what are you – (He sniffs again.)

 

ARTHUR: Do you smell that? (More sniffing.) They smell sweet, almost… earthy. (He exhales.) Mm!

 

JOHN: They just look like mushrooms, but. (Amused.) Clearly, you’re enjoying them.

 

ARTHUR: Oh, what memories! (He sniffs and laughs. John laughs, softer.)  That smell, it’s like… oh, being a child again. 

 

(They both chuckle.)

 

JOHN: Yes.

 

ARTHUR: Yes, yes. We used to… find these, all the time. I remember one – I remember one… (He cracks up.) John!

 

(A whimsical tune begins.)

 

JOHN: Arthur!

 

ARTHUR: I remember finding a fairy ring, just like this. In the Boys’ Brigade, with my friend. (John chuckles.)

 

JOHN: William!

 

ARTHUR (overjoyed): You remember! Yes.

 

JOHN: Of course! (Amused.) You’ve only just told me about him. (He laughs.)

 

ARTHUR: He told me about them. (As if telling a funny story.) About his father and he used to find them, in the moors around his childhood home. 

 

JOHN (engaged): Really?

 

ARTHUR: The fairies… were all over the land where he grew, in and around the ancient burrows that lay undiscovered! He… He’d tell me about finding them, with his father’s friends and… how he’d watch them dig, as he danced around the fairy rings, asking them questions. (He giggles.)

 

JOHN: Dancing?

 

ARTHUR (thrilled): Dancing!

 

JOHN: How? 

 

ARTHUR (high-pitched): Well, like this! (Arthur’s continuous grunts of exertion. John laughs.) H-He’d tell me about his… childhood, growing up. How his father would… tell him stories of the fairies’ gifts…

 

JOHN: Go on.

 

ARTHUR (continuing to dance): I haven’t thought about William in years! He’d talk about how he’d… bring me there, one day. Show me the barrows, and we’d crawl and explore them, like the Vikings of old. 

 

JOHN (laughing): Vikings?

 

ARTHUR: Yes! (John laughs.) And the dance… what we did, when we found a fairy ring at camp, was… was just like this. (Overexerted.) W-Well, we were young, and faster, of course.

 

JOHN (incredulously): You can go faster? 

 

ARTHUR: I can, can’t I! (Faster sounds of exertion.) He was so… awfully proud of his father! William, and I – I envied him, really! 

 

JOHN (aghast): Envy?

 

ARTHUR (eerily upbeat): Greatly! Very much so! He talked about his dad with the most… admiration and love, I… he was a wonderful man!

 

JOHN: Oh?

 

ARTHUR: I hated him for that. And I hated seeing them together. (He laughs shakily. A growing ominous tone.) He was my first real friend, did I mention? 

 

JOHN: You did! (John laughs.)

 

ARTHUR: But when he came back to the Boys’ Brigade with a wooden train his father had carved him, I had nothing but envy in my heart!

 

JOHN: Did you?

 

ARTHUR: It was beautiful! He told me… his father made it… it was a piece of art.

 

JOHN (eagerly): I bet!

 

ARTHUR: His father and he had such a wonderful relationship! (John laughs.) Not a man drowned by drink, or on the verge of tearing his life apart, like mine was! Heh!

 

JOHN (laughing): Of course!

 

ARTHUR: And seeing him this way… (Frenzied.) Seeing him with this toy, it made me feel everything I didn’t have was such an immense weight, I…I cried!

 

JOHN: You cried?

 

ARTHUR: I cried! And cried, all night! All night… away from the other boys, of course, until the next night. Well, around the fire, I-I-I did something…

 

JOHN: What did you do?

 

ARTHUR: I snatched the toy train from William, the wooden train, and I… I tossed it into the fire!

 

JOHN: You did! (John begins to cackle. The music grows discordant.)

 

ARTHUR (tearfully): It crackled and burned, it faded and died in those flames as William cried and cried… it disappeared into ashes! Like my friendship with William! Like my envy… like my own parents… dead! Dead! (John’s laughter distorts and echoes.) Dead and gone! (In pain.) 

 

JOHN (concerned, amidst echoing laughter): Arthur! 

 

ARTHUR: They’ve gone… and god, my head is swimming…

 

JOHN: Arthur!

 

(The distorted cackling continues, growing more ominous.)

 

ARTHUR: All that was left was the ashes. It burned because he was happy… I didn’t want him to be happy… I didn’t want him to be… (He groans in pain.) Why… (A final groan and a thud. The laughter stops. A long pause.)

 

ARTHUR (voice echoing): Where… am I? John? 

 

UNKNOWN (in Arthur’s voice): John who? 

 

ARTHUR: Hello? Who… Who is this?

 

UNKNOWN: You’re calling out to someone in a dream. (Mild distortion.) How interesting. 

 

ARTHUR: Am I… are you… you… why do you sound like me? W-Who is this?

 

UNKNOWN: You followed the light. (Mild distortion.) You came to my grove.  I’m happy to have you here.

 

ARTHUR: Your grove? You led us?

 

UNKNOWN (deeper voice): You came. Unlike the others.

 

ARTHUR: The others? The dead? 

 

UNKNOWN: Some of them. (Mixing Arthur and the deeper voice.) Many of them. I am curious as to why you came to me. 

 

ARTHUR: We were lost, we followed the lights.

 

UNKNOWN: You couldn’t resist.

 

ARTHUR: We tried.

 

UNKNOWN: It’s alright.

 

ARTHUR: We did… 

 

UNKNOWN: You’re here now. With me. 

 

ARTHUR: What do you want?

 

UNKNOWN: I want nothing. I have… you.

 

ARTHUR: What are you going to do with me?

 

UNKNOWN: I will feast upon on you. Stave off my hunger for another short while, as I have done since arriving here. 

 

ARTHUR (shaky inhale): Here? Where are you from?

 

UNKNOWN: Beyond the stars. 

 

ARTHUR: You speak in my voice, use my words… 

 

UNKNOWN: I have been here for a long time, and you breathed so deeply of my scent. 

 

ARTHUR: The mushrooms. 

 

UNKNOWN: No, no. I am much deeper, much safer from the elements. Though, curious foxes often turn out to be a wonderful snack between meals. 

 

ARTHUR: Meals? How… you’re in a graveyard. You feast on the dead. Surely there can’t be that many. 

 

UNKNOWN: No, no. The graves are what they make of them. They come and bury… only the scraps of the lambs they led.

 

ARTHUR: Who… Who comes? 

 

UNKNOWN: I have told you. I have been here a long time, so long that… the people have chosen to see the lights I offer as a cleansing fire of righteousness. 

 

ARTHUR: The people. The village, you mean?

 

UNKNOWN: The nearby settlement, yes. Though small in numbers, they have faithfully and generationally led unsuspecting visitors to my grove.

 

ARTHUR: The village… brings you people to feast upon.

 

UNKNOWN: They do.

 

ARTHUR (fervently): They murder people. They murdered a man, spilt his blood! Did they… feed him to you?

 

UNKNOWN: Mm. The last was not alive, if that’s what you are asking. It was… disappointing. 

 

ARTHUR (shakily): I… how long have they…?

 

UNKNOWN: Long enough. 

 

ARTHUR: And… now? 

 

UNKNOWN: And now… you’re here. 

 

ARTHUR (in horror): What are you?

 

UNKNOWN: I am known… as Horig. (A mysterious melody begins. Birds chirp.) I am this forest. The trees are an extension… of me. 

 

ARTHUR: You can move them?

 

HORIG: I can, and do. No one leaves this place unless I so choose.

 

ARTHUR: You intend to eat me?

 

HORIG: I do. 

 

ARTHUR: You… are hungry? 

 

HORIG: Truthfully… I am still in the midst of consuming my last offering.

 

ARTHUR: You are! Then you don’t need me. You don’t need… more, do you?

 

HORIG: I always need… more. 

 

ARTHUR: Right, but. What good is that? I’ll simply die before you consume me. Do you not prefer your offerings to be alive? You said your last was disappointing.

 

HORIG: You are correct. I suppose I could be consuming you first. (Wood creaks. Arthur makes noises of struggle.) And let the other rot.

 

ARTHUR: Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait wait wait – (The trees quiet.)

 

HORIG: I am listening.

 

ARTHUR: Or… I can bring you more. (A mysterious melody begins.) Sooner. Healthier! Livelier. 

 

HORIG: Younger?

 

ARTHUR: Younger, yes. If that’s what you desire. 

 

HORIG (excitedly): Yes! The young ones are always the most… delicious. 

 

ARTHUR: Let me leave. I will ensure I send more. 

 

HORIG: I have no way to know if you’re telling the truth.

 

ARTHUR: I came from the village, didn’t I? Your lights… led me, you-you must’ve… seen that. 

 

HORIG: I did. 

 

ARTHUR: You know. You know I will honor you. (A pause.) O Great One. Please. 

 

HORIG: Very well. You already carry what I desire. Even if you’re lying… you’ll do just as well as an apostle. 

 

ARTHUR: Thank you… Horig. I will spread your word. 

 

HORIG: You will, indeed. 

 

(An ominous echo. Arthur gasps and wakes up in fright. Birds chirp.)

 

ARTHUR (shifting fabric): John! John? 

 

JOHN (groggy): What?

 

ARTHUR: John!

 

JOHN (still out of it): What? A-Arthur…?

 

ARTHUR: What are you, what are you doing?

 

JOHN: Where… 

 

ARTHUR: What are you doing?

 

JOHN: What happened?

 

ARTHUR: Where are we?

 

JOHN: We’re… (Pulling himself together.) Uh. We’re in the graveyard. It’s… It’s morning. Arthur, we must’ve… (In surprise.) I think I slept? 

 

ARTHUR: You… slept?

 

JOHN: I think so. What… What happened? The last thing I remember was –

 

ARTHUR: We need to leave. (He grunts in exertion. Dirt shifts.)

 

JOHN: What? Why?

 

ARTHUR: Just… please. Please. We need to get back to the stream. 

 

JOHN: The spring?

 

ARTHUR: No, the stream, that we first found, the one I drank from. 

 

JOHN: Right, right.

 

ARTHUR (whispering): Before the village.

 

JOHN: Right… right. It looks like this way slopes down, and we… were heading uphill from the stream… when we first approached the village.

 

ARTHUR (anxiously): Okay, i-it –

 

JOHN: Are you okay?

 

ARTHUR: Let’s just move.

 

JOHN: Straight ahead. (Arthur grunts in exertion. Footsteps.) Yes, when we first passed the stream, we walked on an incline. I remember thinking in the morning at the village, if we got turned around, we would… head down towards… the road. I do think I was sleeping. (‘Noel’s Theme’ begins.) I can’t say as whether or not I dreamt, but. I never experienced something so… quiet. So solemn. I understand why you covet it so much. (He chuckles.) Arthur?

 

ARTHUR (distractedly): Mhm.

 

JOHN: Are you okay? What happened?

 

ARTHUR (shaken): A little further, please.

 

JOHN: Sure. If this is about William… what you said… 

 

ARTHUR: What I said? What did I – (In realization.) Oh. 

 

JOHN: Listen. You were young. I know you haven’t spoken much about your parents, and…

 

ARTHUR: I-I-It isn’t about that. Look, are we at the stream yet?

 

JOHN: Mm. No. But… w-wait, I can hear running water. This way. A little further. (Faster footsteps. Arthur pants.) Arthur, slow down! No need to run, we’re almost there. (Babbling water.) There, there! Jesus, we’re here. (Footsteps stop.) What is wrong?

 

ARTHUR (disturbed): That graveyard! The forest, it wasn’t just a forest. It was a piece of this… thing, this… alien. Horig. (A slow melody begins.) This creature…

 

JOHN: Slow down, what are you talking about?

 

ARTHUR: I, uh… I dreamt… it spoke to me. In my voice. 

 

JOHN: What did it say?

 

ARTHUR: It wanted to consume us. To feast upon us. It told me that the villagers were part of its congregation, its… followers. They would lead people there.

 

JOHN (solemnly): Oh. 

 

ARTHUR: Remember the man they killed? The one Malam told us about?

 

JOHN: Yes, of course. They spilled his blood.

 

ARTHUR: They buried him there, to feed Horig.

 

JOHN: How did you… what did you say?

 

ARTHUR: I told them we’d speak to the villagers, bring more, but… I don’t know whether it believed I was a villager or just had influence over them, but. Regardless, we got a stroke of luck. That it had… recently been fed.

 

JOHN: Jesus. 

 

ARTHUR: Now… we just need to find a way to… (John gasps.) Stop the villagers. From… 

 

JOHN (quietly): Arthur.

 

ARTHUR: Malam said he enacted the young boy’s wishes, that the village is no more, but –

 

JOHN (more persistently): Arthur.

 

ARTHUR: We need to make sure they’re really gone. John, that thing is –

 

JOHN (barking): Arthur!

 

ARTHUR: What?

 

JOHN: We’re upstream from where we first crossed the river. Right?

 

ARTHUR: Yes.

 

JOHN: I think I know why the water tasted foul. 

 

ARTHUR: Why?

 

(Flies buzz.)

 

JOHN: Malam has truly made the village… no more. 

 

ARTHUR (whispering): Killed…?

 

JOHN: All of them. In a pile. (A sad melody begins.) At the top of this river. Where it heads downstream. 

 

ARTHUR (in horror): Oh. (Arthur vomits and spits.) Jesus. 

 

JOHN: I don’t think we’ll need to worry about Horig’s followers any longer. 

 

ARTHUR: Where is the road?

 

JOHN: Should be straight past the river. (A mysterious melody begins.) It ran parallel. 

 

ARTHUR: Let us be done with this cursed forest. 

 

JOHN: Agreed. 

 

(Footsteps. Flies buzz.)

 

(A click, followed by static.)

 

(END Part 46.)