Day 282 - Mounds Story

Mounds Story

Matthew Ryan Fischer

It was an exciting discovery – local amateur archaeologists had begun their own excavation after the fragments of flint blades were uncovered. They were in search of ancient relics and possible treasure. Their work helped lead to the discovery of an ancient house of the dead. The burial mounds were nearly 4,000 years old. The remains indicated that the former structure had been a massive hall – wooden and long – that had been burnt to the ground. The ashes were still there. Certain remains were still there. There was enough to infer that a large band of people had been cremated and buried there. The theory was that the building was burnt and when that was over, the remains had been gathered together for burial. There were theories involving the death of leaders and certain religious celebrations, but really no one knew why the building had been burnt.

It was a dark night, and while an eerie fog rolled in, the men and women didn’t notice. They had gathered for a feast and drink and merriment and that was what the people would have. They celebrated the harvest, they celebrated the fall. They prayed to their gods and asked for a short winter and for a safe and healthy new year. But mostly they drank. They drank and whored and made the most of the short time they had in life. No one noticed the darkness of the night. No one noticed the strange fog or the sinister mood it created. There was far too much imbibing and indulgences. They were in no form to notice much of anything.

A mighty wind blew the door open. The people paused in anticipation, but no one was there – just the night air. The room was silent and a nervous terror overtook them. There was some expectation that something would occur. But there was nothing except the silence and the fog slowly creeping around.

Someone laughed and shouted in defiance of his fear. Then they all were laughing and cheering. And they drank. They drank a mighty amount of drink.

But something had changed. They were different. Something primitive and bestial overtook and consumed them. They spun around and tossed themselves about. Men and women grappled with each other. There was a sexual frenzy in the air. They were all possessed with something inhuman.

Tempers flared as they are known to do when excesses are involved. But this wasn’t just some ordinary drunk-infused brawl. There was a bloodlust growing – a harsh and sinister feeling taking them over. A great fight erupted. They fought and killed and consumed each other’s souls. They became monsters. It had been a house of the living and now it was a house of the dead.

There were a small number that evaded infection. Perhaps they were the more moral or just. Perhaps they were more properly pious or ascetic in their self-control. Or perhaps they were just the lucky few. Whatever made them special, they were able to escape the berserker rage that was occurring.

They knew what needed to be done. The people inside needed to be destroyed. Something sinister had control and it was too dangerous to be left alone. They had to burn it. They needed to try and destroy this thing, whatever it was, lest it escape across the countryside and consume them all.

They barred the doors and set the building on fire and stayed to make sure the job was done. They listened as their former kin and comitatus slowly burned. The death screams of those inside were unimaginably painful to hear. The lucky few outside felt sorry for what those inside, for what was happening, but it was what needed doing.

When it was over, those lucky few covered the remains with dirt and said a prayer to seal the evil in. They prayed that the evil could be contained. They prayed that no one would ever accidentally uncover and unleash it on the unsuspecting world.