Sun KIssed Innsmouth
Part 153
Unlike Phillip’s hovel, the village outskirts hadn’t changed at all. Dingy huts with their peeling tar paper roofs still stood exactly as before, as if unchanged by the seasons and the changes of the weather. Old boats drawn up onto the beaches and preserved against the ice and snow to come stood leaning by the boat shacks, all still painted the same faded reds and blues. Even the awful hanging tree up on the small hill near the center of the village still stood, crooked and beaming with sinister intent.
Felecia squinted and imagined she saw a figure dangling among the trees many tangled limbs. She didn’t dare walk further into the village. Not that any of the retches would remember her by now, but the villagers loathed outsiders and tended to kill them outright after dark. She squinted harder and focused and was almost certain she saw a figure dangling there.
What was Jacqueline doing? Felecia hadn’t stopped to think about that since she got back from the meadow. They villagers were out there looking for her, looking for the hermit of the swamp. The hermit had done something, maybe stolen something. Jacqueline never showed signs of wanting or having new or finer things. The old witch seemed content to make do with little, to use things until they were beyond repair.
What was Jacqueline doing while wearing the wooden mask. No one in the village made mention of it during Felecia’s time among them. Had the old witch lost some further and significant portion of her mind, her faculties, since Felecia had lived with her? Was she creeping into the village and…?
It was false dawn, and in the off season, no one would be awake in the village just yet, not even the women who woke early turning gleaned acorns into meal. Felecia took note of the huts that showed signs of candle or lantern light and kept her steps light as she crept around the village perimeter until she was closer to the tree.
A few more steps up the rise of the hill proved out what Felecia thought she saw. Someone was hanging there. A few more steps and she could smell the sickly-sweet rot of the corpse. A girl was dangling from the hanging tree, her head tilted at a sad angle, her stretched and purple neck showing above the grey/green ruins of her simple dress. Felecia didn’t dare to walk any further up the hill and knew it wouldn’t matter if she got closer. The girl was beyond recognizing now even on the off chance that Felecia had known who she was.
Saying Felecia did, what then? Why should it matter?
A gust of wind picked up coming off the water and Felecia gagged and turned away, until she heard the creaking of other tree limbs. The girl had sad sisters there in the trees mass of tangled limbs. Felecia saw one half rotten head, then another, one blackened pair of feet, then another.
There were seven of them that Felecia could manage to count, they all looked like they had been left there right up through the summer months.