Hopeless

The look in their eyes screamed of despair as this woman who could best described as a witch continued her demonic chanting. Matthew tried to nudge his wife to get her attention but soon realized that they were placed under a spell of paralysis. While he was attempting to find a way to break the spell, she began whining and wincing, trying to get her attention.

She laughed off her attempts and saw through her charade, she stepped over to her and asked whether she was questioning her intelligence or not. 

“No, I would never think of doing such a thing,” she snapped back, “you only kidnapped me and my husband, tossed us in a cave to rot and cast some sort of fucked up spell on the both of us, but no, I’d never dream of insulting you.”

She heard a giggle coming from her husband after taking a quick glance in his direction, which put a silent smile on her face. The fact that she strong armed laughter from him in such a tense situation helped ease her stress. As Matthew looked on, noticing the woman becoming increasingly frustrated at how uncooperative she was being, he knew there’d be an opportunity to turn the tables on her.

Before he could spring the first part of his plan in action, she got on all fours and crawled towards them, looking down at the couple, face to face. With one eye fixed on Hope and the other settled on Matthew, she let them know a piece of her intentions.

“I want you to know why I’m here and why you must stay with me. We must protect this place, it is vital to do so. It’s not a job for one person and I’ve done it this way for far too long. I’m too old for this,” she said with a whimper, acknowledging her inevitable descent from her once youthful grace.

“Doesn’t seem like you’re struggling that hard, lady. You dragged me through the woods like you were Paul Bunyan, now you’re getting too old?”

“Do not call me lady, show some respect,” she lashed at him, “and yes, I am getting too old for this. Physical strength only accounts for a smidgen of what I do. The outside world, where you’re from, depends on me to do what I do. So like I said, show some respect.”

She got on her knees and then to her feet, striding over to a pit of ashes inside a circle of rocks that she set up long ago. She pointed to Hope and asked if she could trust her were she to relinquish the paralysis that was restraining her from the neck down.

“I need some help gathering firewood. If you can’t promise you won’t try to flee, I’ll just do it myself.”

Hope looked to her husband for guidance, and when he shook his head no, she did the exact opposite and agreed to her terms.

“I’ll help you.”

Grabbing the green book of spells from the table, she recited another chant and instructed Hope to wiggle her toes. Matthew looked on in frustration, knowing that his wife would be able to roam free while he would remain sequestered in the damp cave. He let his displeasure known by voicing a grunt as his wife made her way to her feet.

She followed her out of the entrance and into the baking sunlight, attempting to spark conversation while they searched for sufficient branches and logs.

“So how’d you end up here?”

“Same way you did. I won’t tell you any more, you will see it all for yourself.”

“What’s that mean?”

“In due time you will see exactly what I mean but now I have a question for you.”

“Alright, shoot.”

“Why do you stay?”

“Excuse me?”

“With him, why do you stay?”

She looked at her with disbelief oozing from her pours, “You don’t know him like I do. You don’t know what we’ve been through together.”

“Oh, but I do,” she corrected her as they slithered their way through an upcoming collection of thin bamboo. “Enough of this, you’ll see it all later on. Come. We’re close.”

Hope questioned what they were really doing out here.

“I told you, we’re grabbing firewood.”

“There’s plenty of it right here, “ she said while looking down at the sticks at their feet.

“Yes, but that is for later. Follow me or I’m dragging you back to the cave.”

“Before we continue, I’m growing tired of thinking of you as a nameless old woman. Can we put a name to your face, please?”

“Does my name really matter to you?”

“It does. It’s important to me.”

The woman thought it over before surrendering to the question.

“Gertrude. Now let’s go.”

“You look like a Gertrude. I could have guessed that.”

“Well, maybe you should have,” she said, becoming increasingly annoyed with each piece of dialogue. She held the brush open for Hope to pass through first. As she stepped out of the shade provided by natures sprawling children, she was in awe at the sheer beauty of the waterfall up ahead of her.

“What a beautiful sight, thank you for showing this to me.”

“This is not why I brought you here. This is.”

She ventured over to a patch of dirt, low on vegetation and any form of green life.

“Go on, a little behind there,” Gertrude instructed. 

As Hope peered beyond the lifeless ground and around a tree, she saw a skeleton resting in the dirt.

“Why’d you bring me here? Who is this?”

Gertrude stepped forward and looked her in the eye.

“Your husband.”