That Which Goes Bump in the Night

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Deep in the heart of /vtwbg/, legends speak of an unseen creature which patrols the forests of the land.

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It is said to be a nocturnal beast, stalking the woods for some unknowable purpose. The only trace it leaves behind is the sounds of its steps echoing outwards in a rumbling quake, reverberating deeper into the earth with every footfall.

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It is described by some as a bloodthirsty monster out to feed, by others as an ancient being in search of something which cannot be found. Indeed, its true nature has almost been lost to history. In the present day, the truest stories only remain with those who live closest to its territory. It is to one such town on a forest's outskirts that we now extend our view in order to hear the true nature of this strange being.

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In the idyll town of Laurel lies a small wooden house, by day a bakery filled with sweet aromas and hungry patrons, and by night the living quarters of the Witten family. If we were to enter this abode on a night like tonight, awaiting us would be an empty storefront: chairs placed up on tables, a sheet covering the counter, and a cold stillness enveloping the kitchen. Past this we would encounter the home proper: a staircase to the bedrooms, a hallway lined with portraits of family members both long gone and currently sleeping, and a single door with wavering candlelight coming through the gap with the floor.

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It is here that we find the last wakeful residents of the household, young Mary-Rose Witten and her mother. Though it is far past her bedtime, Mary cannot seem to reach sleep's soft embrace. "Mom," she implores, "can't we talk a few minutes longer? I'm not tired at all!"

"All the same, you must try to get some rest," comes her mother's response. "You wouldn't want to wait to be tired at school. Remember what happened last time?"

Mary winces at that, rubbing her wrist as if to soothe it from the attack of an imagined ruler. "But how can I fall asleep when I feel so awake? Can't you read me another story at least?"

Her mother brings a hand down onto Mary's head, stroking her hair placatingly. "I'm afraid not, honey. The hours of the dead soon approach, and all must be silent for their arrival."

"But why?"

The mother brings her voice down to a low whisper. "So as not to distract our Protector."

"Our Protector?" young Mary echoes at a louder volume.

Bringing a finger to her lips, the mother continues, "Listen carefully. It has already begun its rounds. Can you hear its footsteps?"

Mary-Rose cocks her head towards the window, straining to hear whatever could be out there. At first there seems to be nothing but the usual forested sounds of nature, but then she hears it - a low sound that seems all at once to silence the chittering of the other woodland critters.

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"What is it?"

"No one knows," Mary's mother answers, her voice barely audible now. "But it has a vital role to play. Without it, all of us and everything we hold dear would collapse. So we must not disturb it, lest it falter in its duties."

Mary looks back at her mother, worry evident on her face.

"Do not fret, it has not failed us yet. Our Protector is strong of will, and I'm sure it will be here to lend us aid for centuries to come." Mary's mother leans down, planting a kiss on her daughter's forehead. "But we must give it the silence it needs to do its work. Close your eyes and lie still; sleep will come soon, I promise." With that, she stands up, blowing out the candle on the nightstand and taking her leave.

Mary turns towards the window, looking out into the forest for some sign of this guardian. But other than the sway of trees in the wind and the slow drift of clouds across the night sky, all is still. All the same, she mentally recites a prayer for the Protector, wishing it good fortune on its task. Slowly but surely her eyelids grow heavy, until she can no longer keep them open. Distantly, the sounds of the Protector's steps continue, forming a rhythm that lulls Mary-Rose to sleep.

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That Which Goes Bump in the Night

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