An Escape

Ground

The figure stood on the dune, wind whipping around the tattered poncho that reached down to their shins and a pointed hat on their head stayed perfectly despite the wind. They held a strange instrument, long with strings seemingly made of hairs braided together for the right thickness. Six strings like a guitar but practically as tall as the figure itself. The Skullhounds wandered around the figure, almost as if they weren't there, or perhaps they were too scared to acknowledge the figure. For scorching days and freezing nights, the figure stood on the dune simply watching over the village. The few hundred people would look at the dune each day, wondering if the figure would do anything. Part of them hoped the figure would go away, part of them hoped the figure wouldn't move, if it didn't move then nothing could happen, right?. The bottom of the sun hovered over the horizon, making the sky a gradient of yellows, greens, and blues as the figures eyes flashed open, glowing a bright orange, like fire burning into the hearts and soul of all those who witnessed it.

They brought the instrument to their hands and they placed their hands in the position of a chord. The didn't move. Word spread like wild fire across the village and soon every single villager was outside and witnessing the figure stand with their instrument at the ready. The sun bounced off the poncho, revealing hypnotic patterns and colors all over it, and the sun glinted off the gold that held the strings of the guitar-like instrument in place.

Their hand raised into the air as the village held their breath in excitement and fear, and as their hand came down and strum along the strings the sound was low, incredibly low. The sound reverberated through the very earth itself, it shook the bones of the villagers and most fell to their knees, vomiting but still looking up at the figure. They took a step and slid down the dune as they strum another chord. Higher pitched but the earth still reverberated as it resonated with the instrument and the few people that were still standing fell to their knees.

The figure walked through the crowd, playing a tune that none had heard before, intimidating and intense. The earth shook with reverberation and there wasn't a single person who couldn't feel the power that this figure held. It was then that they opened their mouth, full of jagged teeth they sung with a voice of velvet and silk. Though not a word of what they said was understood, they spoke in a language lost to the ages and only known by the gods of millenia past. The song was one of anguish and hardships, they sung of a past life full of torment at the hands of those they trusted, a soul that was forever tormented in life and had finally arrived to seek revenge, not to cause pain, but to cause suffering. As the song rung out through the earth the people convulsed, their minds being flooded with the anguish and suffering of what felt like eons. Their screams could not drown out the song of torment. There was nothing the could've done, there was nothing they could say. The figure ended the song with the same chord they started with, bringing the song full circle.

They walked back the way they came and they stood on their dune. The people were left on the ground, convulsing and many dead, some frothing from the mouth and bleeding from the ears, and very few were able to stand in the aftermath though their ears were bleeding profusely, the blood running down their chins and slong their necks. With the remaining people's eyes locked onto the figure waiting for another move the figure raised their hand once more. As they let their hand fall their eyes closed once more, and their hand dropped as the sun dropped under the horizon and the figure disappeared, seemingly sinking into the dune.
Returning to the underworld.