Roach

By Danae Winters

A horrific discovery is made deep within a mysterious forest surrounding a small village. After rescuing a woman from a locked room, Phoebe Moore discovers that not all good intentions receive the proper rewards. Unknowingly she releases a fifty year old darkness onto her unsuspecting village. Will she discover the mystery behind the strange woman's circumstances or find herself thrown into an unending nightmare from which even she can not escape.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Danae Winters
• Release date: Jan 9, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224999835

Book preview

Part I

L ittle roach!

Her fingers stiffened in the cold water as the wooden bucket bobbed in the gentle creek.

Little roach, do you hear me?

The irritation in the voice came closer and combined with the sound of a familiar wind. Before she could turn, she felt the presence.

A clawed hand dug into her thin shoulder and a twinge of pain crept in. She could smell the pig’s blood on the breath that hissed in her ear.

Little roach, why does it take you so long to fill a simple bucket of water?

I-I was going as fast as I can.

The clawed hand spun her around, revealing a tall, dark, hunched form-Isabella. In the dull moonlight she could make out the wild matted hair and the coal-black eyes, but most of all it was the twisted mouth, bloodied.

I-I was g-going as fast as I can. The voice mimicked her with every ounce of disgust the throat could muster. A hand trailed up her neck to grip her pale chin.

We. are. still. Hungry. Get us more pig. A red-tipped finger pointed towards the tilting cottage up the small path.

The cottage always seemed grimmer on days following rain. Nothing grew beyond the broken picket that had sunk slowly, over the years, deeper into the filth. Only the years of her feet following the same path had affected the landscape surrounding her miserable home. The mossy roof of the cottage was covered in brazen vines that were determined to claim every inch. They left no walls untouched as the haunting natural embrace expanded year after year. She looked now up the path, a chilly breath escaping her as the claw dug into her shoulder once more.

Daydreaming of our little home, are we? Wishing anyone through that rotten door loved you?

The sinister question, like a whip, tore into her chest and she pulled the bucket closer to her side, lifting it with the strength she could muster. The rope felt stronger than her legs at that moment and she took a step closer towards the cottage.

I- w-will bring you the last of the pigs, she whispered and hurried off up the path, her hair trailing behind her as though desperate to escape as well. Her footing slipped in places, but she knew if the bucket dropped, she would have to haul it again. The dark eyes followed her. She could feel their anger masked behind an iciness she did not know if she would ever understand. She felt the familiar shadow hover over her head before floating through the arched door. It flew open and then shut again.

When she had finally arrived at the cottage fence, she turned her head towards her poorly made enclosure and saw the lonely pig. A small snort stopped her hand on the rope latch she had fixed. This was not the first time she had fed her sisters- nor the second. She had stopped counting the years of darkness. She had learned only one thing. The ritual of nightly feasts. Trap, capture, clean, open the door, close the door, and run. A flickering lantern was her only light as she splashed the bucket over the edge and onto the pig. It made a snorting squeal. She could not tell if it was frightened or recognized the similar pattern its previous fellow captive had received.

Silence, a voice shouted. I don’t want to hear you preparing our dinner!

I’m sure it is not her fault the pig is probably frightened, a quivering, placating voice whispered.

Shut up, a response snapped back.

She’s becoming slower and slower at her tasks. Perhaps if you beat her less, she would be faster.

Are you questioning your elder sister? That little roach needs encouragement now and again.

A croaking laugh came from behind the door as she tied the rope around the pig's neck and lifted it, squirming from the enclosure. Her hands shook from the