Folksburywoods Story Blog

Come closer, friend, and I will tell you the mad hermit’s tale—no need to fear. I have already eaten today, so you are perfectly safe.

Not long ago, a monk was sent to spread the word among the flock and be their shepherd in times of hardship.

The folks liked the monk very much, but since there was little to go around, they could not offer him a bed and a meal. The monk, whose heart was kind, understood and went off to stay in an abandoned mine shaft.

During the night, a great storm descended upon the town, washing away homes and roads and, unfortunately for the monk, causing a landslide that trapped him in the mine.

The townspeople rushed to dig the monk out of the mine, but more earth fell from above as they dug. After three days, they gave up hope and hastily built a memorial at the mine’s entrance.

The monk was safe deep in the mine, having been a member of the hermit cast in his early training. He knew how to collect water from the walls and forage for roots and tubers for food; he was even skilled at trapping and preparing lizards for raw consumption.

Days, weeks, and months passed without a word from outside. The monk realized he had been abandoned. With no one to talk to or hope for rescue, his mind began slipping away.

He knew he must escape or die in the mine, so he began to explore each tunnel. Alas, no exit was found, so madness took hold, and like a crazed beast, he dug at the entrance with his bare hands.

Days passed, and finally, a small opening appeared, and a ray of sunlight entered the cavern. His screams for help fell on an empty town. The storm had destroyed far too much to rebuild, so folks moved away.

Madness grew, and he feared he would never leave this tomb. Fortunately, the rains had washed away much of the landslide, and he could dig himself out.

Bloodied from all his work, the monk went to the town only to find the few remaining buildings dark and empty. After cleaning his wounds and wrapping them in discarded cloth, the monk set about to find food.

Hours passed, and he could not find anything to eat. Exhausted, he threw himself down to rest, and that’s when he smelled the rotting flesh of an abandoned dog.

He was so ravenous that he pounced on the carcass and devoured the beast. The monk’s humanity faded, leaving only the hermit’s desire to feast on flesh.

In a nearby town, an old woman went missing. After a search, it was determined that a bear had taken her.

Weeks later, a young man returning from hunting disappeared, and the search found only his gun and empty shoulder bag.

One night, a young girl was carrying a basket of eggs home when a man beast attacked her. Luckily, she used the egg’s yolks to blind it and swiftly ran away.

Hunting parties searched the land, but none could find the beast. Night patrols now protect the village, forcing the monk to find new food sources.

The story is finished, and its telling has given me an appetite. Dinner does not often deliver itself, so I won’t waste the opportunity to feast.

Goodbye, my friend.