When the world turned its back on me, it was my own kind that took me in—not the werewolves, but peasants like me. I slept on the street, using a piece of cardboard as my bed, with no blanket or pillow to shield me from the cold. It was harsh, but I had no choice. I begged for pennies and food, crying every night. My self-pity would overwhelm me, and I'd sob uncontrollably until I passed out from exhaustion.
But tonight was different. As I cried, an old woman suddenly sat next to me. She wore a black dress, a veil atop her gray hair, and held a cane. I wiped my tears and tried to leave, but she grabbed my wrist and pulled me back.
"I know a way," she said.
I shoved her hand away and scooted back, hiding in the shadows. "I’m sorry, but I must go."
She followed and gripped my arm. Her cold touch sent a shiver down my spine as fear crept in.
"I said I know a way," she repeated, her voice firm and her hold unyielding.
"I-I... I don’t know what you’re talking about," I said. "Please, let go of me."
I yanked my arm from her grip, but I winced when her fingers tightened, and her sharp nails dug into my skin.
"Listen to me, young woman," she whispered. "If you want to resurrect your love from death, you need my help."
My whole body ran cold upon hearing her words, and the words stuck in my throat—until I finally asked, "C-Can you do that? Can you make him alive again?"
The old woman smiled at me, revealing her decayed canine. "I can't. But I told you, I know a way."
Desperation rushed through my veins, and I straightened my back before grabbing her bony hands. "Please, I’m begging you. Tell me the way."
The old woman stared down at my hands on hers, slightly raising her brow. For a few seconds, silence lingered, until she met my eyes.
"There’s a mountain in the East," she started. "It’s called The Resurrection. Different kinds of desperate creatures hike there to beg the deity of second life, but most of them don’t make it to the top. I could count on my bony fingers how many survived."
I swallowed hard as my fear doubled, but my desperation to embrace Johnson was greater. I would do anything to be with him again.
"Only those deserving and with good intentions can make it to the top. And if you're one of them, beg the deity with your life."
The wind blew again, sending all the hair on my body standing on end.
"If you decide to hike, bring a tribute to the deity—a headless chicken, pig's blood, and a lotus flower."
I hugged myself, the old woman smirking when she saw it, as it was so obvious that I was scared.
"But remember, young woman, that the mountain is gravely dangerous and alive. It targets the weak and can smell fear. If you hear someone—someone that you love and who’s important to you—do not look back. It's a trap." The old woman's smirk widened. "Once you do, your soul will be trapped forever in the mountain. You’ll become one of the trees, the lakes, or the wild animals—and you'll have to witness those next desperate creatures."
* * *
It took me a week to reach The Resurrection Mountain—not from hesitation, but because I had to work hard to earn the money for the tributes. I worked multiple underpaid jobs—janitor, dog walker, waiter—and begged for pennies on the side.
It was tough, but I finally bought a headless chicken, pig's blood, and a lotus flower. I hugged the bag tightly to my chest, taking a deep breath as I stood before the mountain, shrouded in fog and towering with massive trees. It was dark where I stood, and I knew it would be even darker inside. But I had sacrificed everything to be here, so I couldn’t back out.
I took a deep breath and started my hike. Everything went smoothly at first, until I felt a breath on the back of my neck. The hair on my body stood on edge, and I was about to turn when I remembered what the old woman had warned me.
It’s a trap.
Clutching my bag, I pressed forward, but paused when laughter echoed behind me.
"Smart girl," the voice taunted, moving from one ear to the other. "Let's see how far you'll go."
My heart raced in fear, but I forced myself to walk. Each step felt heavier, as if the ground itself resisted me. The voice echoed in my mind, impossible to block out.
The laughter twisted in my ears, a mocking sound that made my resolve crumble little by little. Its taunts were relentless, and despite my best efforts, I could feel myself losing control. My thoughts were scattered, and my fear grew stronger with each step I took.
"You are the most beautiful." It was Johnson's voice. "Don't get jealous, baby. You're the only one I love."
Tears threatened, but I held them back, staring ahead.
“I’m going to build you a mansion,” Johnson’s voice continued. “We’ll have three children, and our pups will be cute because their mother is gorgeous.”
I clenched my fists so tight, I could feel the blood stop flowing. Even though I knew it wasn’t him, the happiness that came with hearing his voice was inevitable.
I couldn't hold it in anymore; I burst into tears—just for Johnson's voice to appear again.
"Come on, baby. Look at me. I'm here."
I almost did, but I shook my head. "No! You're not real!"
"I am very real. Look behind you and you'll see me."
I shook my head again, now firmer. "You're just inside my head."
"Just look and I'll prove it to you—"
"Shut up!" I screamed, then screamed louder when the earth suddenly collapsed beneath me.
