The Purge

The door slammed shut. Steaming and hurt, she grabbed her suitcase, the box with her belongings, and ran to her car. Should that bitch see what she did now with her new slut. Leaving only a broken ring on the porch, she jumped into her car and drove off into the mountains. Tears welled up in her eyes.

“I’m in heaven when I’m with you.” Being the only distraction to her sorrow, she refrained from busting the radio when it rubbed salt into her wounds. For almost five years now, that had been their song. She simply turned it off, but her memory played it along. It took all her strength to find a suitable parking space in these godforsaken, untouched wild before dissolving into tears.

Some loud banging woke her up, but everything around her was dark. She didn’t recognize the sound, but it scared her to death. Leaving everything behind, she anxiously fled the car and ran off into the wilderness, following the hollow trail countless other trekkers had left before her.
The moon shone brightly, but its silvery light made the once beautiful autumn mountain scenery creepy and scary. In bright daylight, those trees would surely be merrily coloured beauties, but at night, their half-bare branches became claws, their roots grabbing hands, and the rattling of the leaves in the breeze was a daunting, hellish whisper.
“We’ll get you!” – “Don’t run, or it will be worse!” – “You’re ours!” – “Catch her!” – “Grab her!” – “Tear her apart!”
Scared to death she slung her arms around her head and ran. Some of the branches ripped her silken blouse; the tearing sound seeming far too loud in her ears. She stumbled, caught herself, ran, stumbled again and fell into some brambly vines. Scratched and hurt she got up again, the rips of her blouse remaining in the brambles, exposing her sensitive skin to the cold night air. The whispers made her run on.
Then some strange noises came from behind. A fiendish ticking and buzzing, sounding like nothing she had ever experienced before or ever wanted to. It was menacing. Again, it felt like a million little voices in her head.
“Get her!” – “Pinch her!” – “Bite her!” – “Sting her!” – “Slice her!” – “Eat her alive!”
She ran and ran, hampered by the steepness of the trail, slowed by roots and other obstacles, and didn’t dare to look back. When she reached a small streamlet, she felt the first sting on her heel. Screaming, she stumbled, and the swarm got her.
It hurt like hell when millions of little insects crawled into her pants, over her body, into her face. She hurriedly shut her mouth and eyes, feeling the bugs clearing every thread of cloth from her in the blink of an eye. Before the swarm could enter her ears or nose, she desperately rolled herself into the streamlet.
The current was far stronger than she had expected. It got her and tossed her around for a little while, until she finally was able to stabilize herself and got to the surface again. Frantically gasping for air, she reached for some branches or roots to get out, but the cold water chilled her down to the bone, slowing her reaction. When she eventually got out, she was naked, only the pendant on the gold chain still dangling from her neck, and feared she’d gotten herself into a bad case of hypothermia.
Then she saw the eyes. They were glowing red and clearly set on herself. As always when monsters had approached her, she grabbed her childhood pendant and prayed. It was the delicately painted picture of a motherly angel, and up to now, it had always helped her. Slowly, she backed out, carefully walking backwards. The eyes blinked, then moved to the next shrubbery. Crying silent tears, she was too numb to be afraid anymore. Finally, she turned her back on the eyes and walked away. Should it get her.
When it grabbed her by now very deranged updo, she didn’t bridle. She simply clutched her pendant and cried. But strangely enough it didn’t eat her or tear her apart, but it pulled her along the rough pathway, seemingly up to the mountain top. She couldn’t see what had gotten her, she only felt intense heat emanating from the claw. The smell of rotten eggs nearly made her faint. Whatever it was, it seemed to drag her to its hellish den, perhaps for its young. She just closed her eyes and endured it.

---

“911? Here… here is a dead woman. No, shot right between the eyes. In her car. No, I didn’t touch anything; it’s clearly visible from three yards away. Yes, I’ll wait in my car, there I have at least AC. Friggin’ heat.”

“Not very professionally done. She was shot by her former lover, with whom she had quarrelled the very evening before, about a new love of her fiancée. They had broken up, and the deceased had moved out and only left her broken ring. Then the accused drank a bottle of wine, and went after the deceased in drunken rage, shooting the sleeping woman in her car.”

---

When they reached the gate, she felt as if she had been ground down to her very bones. She didn’t even ask herself anymore what a gate did on a mountain top. She just felt herself being tossed through, and slowly got up again.
Searing light got into her eyes. She knew somebody was watching her, but she didn’t care anymore. She was stripped of her vain, her shelter, her pride down to her core. With a last glance, she looked at her pendant. Then she realized that the angel bore her own face. Reluctantly, she looked up into the light. And was at home. Nothing would ever be able to hurt her again.

“They aren’t very fitting character traits here, are they?” She silently smiled at the serene voice in her heart. No. If this is heaven, they aren’t.