Grimoire: Dark Fiction & Horror Anthology Volume 1 by unknow

Author:unknow
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sentinel Creatives
Published: 2022-07-04T05:00:00+00:00

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The destruction of Imori was every bit as complete as what Oba had seen at the other village. There was only a slight difference. Here there had been no evacuation, and the ruins were infested by crows drawn by the stench of the bodies entombed in the rubble.

“Only a few escaped the attack to tell what happened,” Kawajiri told Oba as they walked down what had been Imori’s main road. The Hoshin samurai paused and bowed respectfully at the toppled mess of the house they were passing. “They said that Honengyo rose from the sea during the night. His roar split the darkness and the earth trembled from his steps. Many in the village were awakened by the turmoil, but they were frozen in shock as the monster strode through the surf. The survivors were those who had sense enough to run the moment they heard the roar. Too late did the other villagers recover their senses. Some tried to hide in their homes, others sought to flee into the hills. All of them were crushed beneath Honengyo’s feet.”

Oba nodded. He could see the image of clawed toes stamped into the crushed buildings, silent testament to the colossal beast that brought them to ruin. “Where on the beach did the monks make their offering to Honengyo?” he asked his guide.

“This way.” Kawajiri directed him towards a weathered outcropping of rock. There was a faint suggestion of carving about it, as though it had been crudely sculpted ages ago, then worn down by the elements into its current shape. Oba thought of the savage Koropokguru. Before humans had driven them into the forests, the dwarfs had been fisherfolk who dwelled beside the sea. Perhaps this had been one of their shrines. Something revered by the dwarfs. Maybe it was connected to Honengyo. It was possible that the tradition of making offerings to the monster wasn’t the invention of Mount Odo’s priests.

Oba inspected the area around the rock, his eyes roving across the tide pools and clumps of seaweed thrown up by the surf.

“We checked the beach for miles,” Kawajiri said. “In both directions. We could find no trace of the monks.”

Something in one of the tide pools caught Oba’s eye. A flash of colour moving beneath the water. He darted forwards and caught the thing in his hands. He pulled it up from the pool and studied it in the open air. “When you searched, there might have been nothing to find,” Oba said. He held the creature he’d caught out to the other samurai. “Now there is.”

The thing in Oba’s hands was a crab, no different than the crustaceans common to any beach. It was the scrap of yellow cloth caught about its legs that made it remarkable. There was no mistaking it as coming from a monk’s robe.

“Then, they were here,” Kawajiri nodded.

“I think they still are.” Oba turned the crab around so that its flailing claws couldn’t nip at his arms. “They’ve been here for some time. Long enough to draw scavengers.

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