The Darkness

He could sense that a demon was living inside his wife. Her sweat smelled different lately, like sour milk, and her hair grew stringy and oily, despite not ever skipping her daily wash. She had taken to eating more meat and heavy foods, and bitterly rejecting the herbal soup and bread she and her husband often shared. Dark circles appeared under her eyes, accompanied by a growing paleness and hollowing of the cheeks.

The husband noticed a gradual decline in his spouse's appetite for conversation. When he called to his wife from the field, or from another room of their small house, he would hear no response. When he located her, most often resting in their bedroom, he would ask, Why didn't you reply to my calls? Did you not hear me shouting for you? She only answered, No, without otherwise acknowledging his presence in the room. She only sat still in the darkness of the room, gazing intently at nothing in particular, as though absorbed in some important inner dialogue she couldn't part with.

The husband, when weeks of his wife's symptoms had not diminished, decided to call upon the priest, who lived in a neighboring town to the North. He found the quiet boy who lived at the end of the short row of cottages, drawing pictures with wooden sticks in the dirt.

"Boy. Go inside and tell your mother you must fetch a priest from the town to the North. Tell her I have prepared a horse for you. You need only be gone one night. I have arranged for you to lodge at the dwelling place of the priests. He will have his own horse, and tomorrow he will accompany you on your ride back."

When the husband finished his instructions, the boy went inside to gather some bread and apples to take along with him on his short journey. He emerged with a cloth bundle, which he tied to his waste.

The man and boy walked in silence toward the stable. The descending sun was nearly touching the distant hills by the time they reached the horse, who was tied outside the stable doors, standing erect in her saddle.

"You must stay on the path. It is dangerous for a young boy to ride during the night." The man warned. The boy looked down at his feet. He did not want the man to see that he had begun to cry.

"Do not worry," he gripped the boy's narrow shoulder. "The horse knows the way. She has been on this path many times." Upon saying this, the man withdrew a rusting canteen from his coarse shawl and presented it to the boy.
"This canteen is lucky. Do you see the picture of the little rabbit?" The boy took the canteen, but said nothing.
"You must go now." The man reached down and cupped his large hands under the boy's armpits, lifting his limp body and positioning it on the horse's back. The boy's legs were barely long enough to reach the foot straps.

The man patted the horse and said, "Let her take you, boy. Do not be afraid."

He watched them advance slowly toward the darkening hills until the boy was a small lump on the horse's back.