Ascending towards a full state of awareness it ponders upon the violent thundering rhythms and the shifting movements upon the soil mere feet above. Muted sounds and a permeating musk odor mixed with an unmistakable tang of copper. Disembodied from any matter, flesh or bone, the form moves with relative ease as it drifts through dirt towards the surface and light. But the act of malicious atrocity has long since been sewn.
Dense shadows and thick tree cover partially conceal the evidence of a barbaric nature unbound resulting in unbridled savagery upon unblemished innocent flesh. Youthful limbs left at unnatural angles, visibly contorted past the point of anything deemed normalcy. Various pooling and splatters of crimson, resulting from a plethora of lacerations, orifices torn like tissue paper, outlines a fragile form an evil mind's mimicry of a child's 'snow-angel' upon the various bright hues of a once idyllic scene.
A once beatific visage now shrouded by twisted, unkempt strands of hair and hastily thrown down patches of broken thicket. Innocence brutalized to be tossed aside naught now but a cooling feast left for the merciless, ferocious appetite of the wilderness and its scavengers.
Shocked into silence the area remains unnaturally still. Nary a single song bird echoing its own unique melody of appreciation for another day. A gentle breeze stirs from out of nowhere to caress the highest limbs of the tallest trees. Purpose abruptly alights the wisp of conscious into a swirling dervish of passionate intent as monoliths begin to sway, bent over, upon the winds of vengeance come to call on the swift wings of a past life's sorrow. Following aeons of nothingness finally meaning. A diligent duty to pull it from its depths of purgatory in restless slumber.
Finding purchase through flaps of ragged flesh encrusted with bodily fluids and varying degrees of filth, the spirit drifts onwards, unsure of direction though somehow knowing where to go and what to seek.
Atrophying matter closes in rapidly on an unwelcome invasion. Death has come to call encroaching swiftly to claim dominion over that which is now rightfully his.
A pastel spark, rapidly losing life and luster, frantic and confused, careens to and fro within rapidly darkening, dying confines. Determined, the presence reaches out to the hesitant with a promise as the fleshy tomb becomes dull, losing all semblance of color, mere moments away from absolute lifelessness. The two collide amidst a collapsing tomb that abruptly erupts with new life. Death would have to wait another day as this form had now found purpose.
Within the explosion a blinding flash of monotone drab scenery, swatches of conversation and a semblance of a memory. A distraction for the conscious spirit as it coalesces slowly into a greater whole.
A slender adolescent hand enveloped in an all encompassing grip of rough flesh.
“Daddy, where are we going?”
“Calm down child we'll be there soon.” A gruff voice replies.
“You won't need a Dolly where you're going child.”
A single plume of breath escapes a grim slashed set of cracked lips as the corpse moves for the first time in days. A sharp short sudden sequence of cracks prompts a wide radius of woodland creatures away from their perch, awake from slumber to glance up from foraging towards deeper, darker surroundings away from a possible hunter's sights.
Dislocated appendages shuffle and twist rearranging noisily within a derelict structure desiring movement. Grotesque markings and shades of purple too horrific for any child's crayon assortment travel through a journey of rainbow tones to regain a healthy hue. Ragged and torn skin lacerations stretch across exposed sinew, muscle and bleached bone to knit without scarring. Entangled trusses straighten unwinding themselves patiently from broken branches and patches of fern. Eyelids peel back without haste to reveal shining intelligence, piercing pupils devoid of the reaching tendrils of stress caused by blunt force trauma.
“Daddy is this your friend?”
“Yes child, he will be taking care of you from now on.” An emotionless voice replies.
“I'm scared, I-I-I w-want to g-go home Daddy.”
As he turns to walk away without a second glance his hand drops from hers leaving it limp. It begins to clasp at nothingness as Jennifer takes a single step in the same direction. She's halted by a strong grip, a black gloved hand on her shoulder. The bony protuberance clutch transforms into a feeble parody attempt of a loving parental squeeze as if to reassure her.
“Let him go. We're going to have such fun, you and I.”
A metamorphosis fueled by hatred, burning with loathing and seething with years of contempt propels the form over then clumsily upwards where it balances precariously upon quivering knees.
“Let me go Mister, I promise I won't tell.”
A shining garden implement pauses, wavering, midway through a downward arc, “But you're no use to anyone anymore do you not see?”
The vicious smirk she'd witnessed a thousand times before alights upon the same scarred face that dominantly featured in every one of her waking nightmares for as far back as she could remember.
Tightening muscles beneath his overcoat pull her bloodshot eyes upwards. The flattened steel of the blade plummets. It is the last thing Jennifer sees as she loses consciousness for the third time in as many hours.
“Sleep well my child.”
Shambling the form rises from its unsteady stance to a fully upright position. The moon shines bright, menacingly low overhead, to light the way ahead. It was to be long journey but it was worth every single step. If need be she could wait... as long as necessary. She was in no hurry as she knew “she” was going to make an absolutely stunning (first) impression.