up.
Everything in me froze. I couldn't even fall to the ground in shock. My muscles just stayed exactly where they had been the second I had seen its face.
Where there should have been lips and eyes, even some small nose, its skin had been tugged, ripped, and pulled into a long, bloody point that stood out at least a foot from its head.
It was looking at me. I don't mean to say it just knew I was there. Of course it did, I had shouted at it; yet, without eyes it saw me.
It turned and ran. For a moment, I did nothing but stare as it turned the corner and out of sight. I gave my head a quick shake.
I was so hopeful that it had all been a weird hallucination that I had almost convinced myself. As my muscles relaxed, I continued walking down Stonegate.
I would have ignored the rubbish bin entirely had it not been for the faint whimper and whisper for help. Involuntarily, I gave a quick glance only to have a reason to look back more thoroughly.
A body lay upon the ground. The man was wearing a white tunic with a large crest of York upon it. The bloodied, fluorescent-yellow lions stared back at me.
As the white of the fabric began to turn red from the gaping wound over his heart, I blinked away my shock and knelt down to help him.
His eyes were open but his body did not move except for a random twitch. The whimper could not have been real. His eyes were lifeless, his heart entirely destroyed and mangled in the gaping hole. If what I had seen was not real, how was he dead?
I reached out and touched the wound. It was wet, sticky, and warm. My stomach flipped.
Looking around, I confirmed that the thing was not returning and also that no one else was around. No one would ever believe what I had seen. I would be the next wacko on David Icke's website. I couldn't help the guy. He was already dead. I could only help myself, so I ran.
And the Myyga?
You know what happened.
I want to hear it from you. What happened to the Myyga?
I wanted nothing to do with the Myyga. I returned to the train station, fully intending to get on the first train back to London.
The air was cool and full of morning moisture by the time the next train arrived, but in that time my brain had worked very rapidly. I thought of the entire reason I had come to York and what the woman I sought would think of my situation. Though I doubted she would laugh at me for wanting to run ̶ she wasn't me after all ̶ I worried she would think me a coward. When I realized she wouldn't think anything of me because I had yet to show her I existed, it gave me pause.
Perhaps it was exhaustion, perhaps it was the growing daylight making the previous night's events seem more a dream than anything, or perhaps it was even my desperation to explain the events away that caused me to take one look at the train steps and the ticket in my hand and turn around to walk straight back into town.
In the daylight with the growing number of people on their way to their jobs, I was not as afraid of the monster.
Watch your tone please.
My apologies, I simply meant that I was scared but given that it was no longer in front of me, I was unsure it truly existed.
Continue.
Several perky backpackers were starting a morning hike over the stone walls of the city. They were the type that would wake up at the first twitch of a bird. Their presence amongst the exhausted rats of society seemed to lighten the stress over everyone. Normally, I hated people like that. What was so wonderful about life? They would have irritated me any other day but at that moment, I found them reassuring.
Despite that, I found myself walking in the other direction, back over the Ouse. I was somewhat aware that I was returning to the scene to verify what had happened though I hadn't had the nerve to admit it to myself. That could be why I took a slightly different route, turning down Lendal to approach Stonegate from the opposite side.
Turning the corner as the street opened into a large square, I stopped. There was little I could do but stare for several moments, for my brain refused quite violently to process what I was seeing.
Across the square and at the opening of Stonegate, there was police tape sectioning off the street and two Bobbies trying to placate some bystanders.
I approached.
The tiny crowd were mainly shop employees trying to get to their jobs and the bobbies were trying to explain that there wouldn't be a point in trying to get to work for many more hours and that maybe tea at Betty's would be a better option. They refused to say what had happened.
Moments later a van pulled up and those who got out began to put on protective gloves and ready various equipment such as swabs and numbered cards. Then, everyone knew, even without my firsthand knowledge, that the police had a murder on their hands.
Betty's wasn't open yet so the crowd moved to the MacDonald's up the street. I began to follow as I had little clue of what else to do. My spontaneous adventure was turning out to be far less enjoyable than I had hoped.
As the pack of bewildered and slightly frightened staff walked up the street, I stopped. Emerging from Lendal was a tall, auburn-haired woman, one I could not have been more overjoyed to see. I changed direction and walked briskly towards her.
Her companions from the previous day ran to catch up to her. I slowed. Did these women go everywhere together?
My original euphoria dampened to the point of a small gladness that at least I could keep track of her again. I followed, only now becoming over-conscious of how out of place my attire from the festival would seem and also newly terrified that they would recognize me and think me a creep before I had the chance to explain myself.
I slowed more.
Luckily, the same Chinese friend who had asked about the train the previous day spoke far louder than was necessary. She really did seem obnoxious. They were walking to the university campus for a class.
My euphoria tried to revive itself. Knowing the route she walked to get to classes would surely make getting her alone much easier. Though I was not yet ready to give up on that particular morning, I was satisfied to log away that information for later, when I needed it.
While fascinating, I am really more interested in the Myyga.
If you had let me speak even a moment longer, you would have gotten what you wanted.
It was while I was following them that I saw it again. We were just passing Market Street when I looked down the road only to see it slip down a side street. At first I thought it was just the events of the night coming back to me in haunting visions. I had to know for sure. With the light and the growing number of people, I felt secure in a way my brain knew was mental but I proceeded to break off from the woman and her friends to follow the Myyga.
The side street was very narrow and dark. If it had not been for expensive real estate it would have been nothing more than an alley. As it was, small little shops lined it, though all had yet to be opened for the day. The quaintness of it made me want to vomit or maybe that was my mind and fear rebelling against my feet and curiosity.
I heard a shuffling in the darkness and stopped. My plan did not seem so safe now but I had committed and was not going to be a coward. Alright, I was a coward but I wasn't going to indulge it and be one of those losers on the forums I visit.
When I heard a large thump upon the pavement, I picked up my pace. This road did not go all the way through. It was a dead end. No matter what, I was going to come face to face with the thing again.
Tone.
Sorry.
When I got near the end, even in the shadow, I could tell that I would not have the same fate of the man from the night before. The Myyga was curled up on the ground against the corner. The point from its face looked dried out and shrivelled. It wasn't moving.
It was dead?
Yes. It had died right before I had gotten to it.
What did you do with the body?
You don't know? I couldn't do anything with it. When I touched it to confirm it was dead, it turned to ash.
To ash? How did it do
that?
You tell me.
I need more information. Can you tell me anything more?
To be honest, when the Myyga turned to ash, I was relieved. I barely understood what the thing was, so hopefully you can understand why this did not shock me at the time any more than the previous night's events. I naively clung to the conviction that the ordeal was over. No more would be dying and I could return to my original task.
I needed a coffee to reinforce this conviction. No matter what I had felt for the future, the images of the past day refused to depart my mind. I walked back to Betty's.
There was a larger crowd of curious onlookers gathered around the police tape now. Most of those were simply trying to get a look at whatever gruesome scene they were barred from and, upon failing, moved on. The worried expressions on the handful of others made me think they were more employees.
I walked into the tea shop. The warm smells of tea, coffee, and pastries greeted me. Looking around, I recognized four people at one of the tables as having been from the group of employees before.
"A seat, sir?" a young woman asked me. She was dressed with the clean, white button-up shirt that was the uniform. She smiled pleasantly even if mechanically.
I nodded and requested a seat by the windows.
With a quick smile and nod, she guided me to one of the many empty tables next to the group of four. I sat down and saw I had a good view of all the streets