Most of my younger employees are sort of afraid of me, which isn't something I ever wanted to foster. It's just because of the wedding dress. They probably think I'm either secretly a ghost or a little nuts. I find that regrettable, because I'm a really nice person and I deserve to have friends, for fuck's sake. I like being alone, I do; but if the only people talking to you on a regular basis are a flesh-eating tree monster and a naked old man living in your sauna, you're bound to start overthinking your life choices.

At least with my little brother by my side, I know I'm not all alone in this.

We've had a pretty eventful day here, actually. We spent the early hours traipsing around in the snow outside looking for more cameras, and we found two. They were well-hidden, and I would have probably never noticed them if we hadn't been searching for them specifically. They were mainly located in the deeper parts of the forest, but leaning towards the western edge, so we figured they had to have been put up by a guard assigned to that area. We have three people on staff for that route and they're always rotating shifts. We called in a worker who was currently off the clock and didn't mind a few extra bucks to cover their section while we had them gathered in the main building for a little talk.

The guards in question, Ira, Tom and Clara, were sitting on my living room couch, all looking a bit worried. I tried to focus on their aura, but nothing seemed to be amiss at first glance. Cas was standing in the corner with his back against the wall, arms crossed in front of his chest. I gave him a nod and he stepped forward, picking up the plastic bag on the floor beside him and proceeding to empty it on the ottoman. Three trail cameras came clattering out. We had already removed their SD cards.

I could only hope that this time, the unease I evoked in some of my workers would motivate one of them to come clean. "As you know, we've been having a bit of a security issue as of late. Seems like somebody's been trying to benefit from the woods financially, with surprisingly little regard for human life. I'm paying you guys to keep this place safe and hidden, and one of you has been doing the exact opposite." Clasping my hands, I made an effort to look like an authoritarian boss. "You're gonna have to tell me who."

Silence. None of the three seemed to be willing to look me in the eye, let alone answer my question.

"You people disgust me," Casimir spat out in an unnaturally deep and gruff voice.

Oh dear God.

"You don't know what you're doing," he went on, sounding like the bad cop from a movie. "People have died because of you, and yet here you are, pretending like nothing's wrong."

What the hell was he doing? I tried motioning for him to shut up, but he didn't react.

"So what's it gonna be? Either you speak up and we talk this out, and maybe my sister will have mercy on you; or you keep quiet and all three of you will face the consequences."

Fuck's sake, he was making it sound like a death threat.

"People are dead! Lives have been lost because of you! You're scum, you hear me! Sc—"

I took a quick step forward, covering my brother's mouth and pulling him aside. The three guards turned to look after us in confusion as I dragged him into the adjacent room. "What are you doing?" I hissed. "Two of those guys likely don't even know what we're talking about! I was hoping they'd keep working here after this whole thing is over! And I'm not keen on a lawsuit."

"I just wanted to help," Cas replied innocently.

"Less of that, please."

I returned into the living room by myself. Safe to say my three suspects didn't feel all too cooperative after this, and I basically just apologized and told them to go back to whatever they'd been doing.

Now, we were going to try and see if we could get answers from the cameras somehow, but after I found that note on my dresser this afternoon, I'm not sure I should proceed with my investigation anymore. It was there when I got up from my impromptu nap.

"If you don't leave this be, I'm going to kill the white rabbit."

The dread I felt upon reading these words was near paralyzing. For a moment, all I could do was stand there, mouth agape, clutching the piece of paper with trembling fingers.

"Um… Cas? Cas!"

My throat had gone bone dry; but I managed to grit out my brother's name. He was there in a heartbeat and only had to take one look at the note to tell what was wrong. He instantly pulled me into a hug, pressing my cheek against his chest.

"No one's gonna kill the rabbit," he said softly. “We’ll fix this, we’ll figure out who’s been playing us and then we’ll get it back. Think of it this way; it’s a great opportunity! You haven’t been this close to finding the rabbit in ages.”

He had a point. Part of me had already given up on it altogether. Now, you’re probably kind of confused. Nobody except myself and those close to me could ever possibly understand why this message terrified me so. Bear with me, I’ll try to explain.

First, a couple things about the human soul. The soul is, contrary to popular belief, separated from our consciousness. At night, when we sleep, it sometimes leaves our body to roam free and wander around, most often in the shape of an animal or an insect. The animal your soul presents as doesn't have anything to do with you as a person; it moreso symbolizes a hidden or suppressed desire you might have buried somewhere in the back of your mind. Normally, the soul returns before you wake up. Trouble arises when it doesn't. Your soul doesn't define you, you can live without it, but it is a part of you. When it's gone, you can tell. It leaves a hole somewhere inside you, and let me assure you that you're going to miss it like a phantom limb.

It's not like you're unfeeling and emotionless without it, but it will all seem a lot duller and tamer than before. You'll often find yourself feeling weirdly disconnected from your surroundings, your own body even, for the soul often acts as a bridge between your consciousness and your physical form. You'll still be able to feel grief and happiness, but it will never be the same as it was when your soul was still inside you. It will all feel indescribably surreal and just… off. Something's always going to be missing, even outwardly.

Your eyes will look rather lifeless to others.

Now, there can be a lot of reasons your soul isn't coming back to you. Maybe it got lost on one of its journeys. Maybe it's just tired of your shit. Or maybe something happened to it.

When I was sixteen, going on seventeen, we acquired an unwanted houseguest. Mom could tell it was a haunting from the very first time we heard the thumping down in the basement at night. She was sitting on my bed with me—we had been immersed in a game of cards just a moment ago.

"Did you hear that?" I asked her.

"Yeah," she said quietly, her eyes darting around the room as she drew closer to me.

"The doors are locked, right? You think someone's broken in?"

"No way, not… not broken in."

We listened closely, only to hear a dull clatter that sounded like items being knocked off a shelf. The noise was followed by a rhythmic banging, like somebody was bashing the end of a broomstick against the basement ceiling.

Dad dropped in shortly after, asking if we had any idea what that ruckus was. My mother merely grinned. "Why, I guess it's some kinda ghost, no?" Giving me a short nod and pointing at the cards in my hand, she added, "Your turn, baby."

"Ania, I'm not taking this shit, I wanna sleep. Go downstairs and deal with it!" Dad told her sternly.

"Ah… no." Mom shook her head.

"What?"

"First off, don't speak to me like that in front of my daughter. If this bothers you, take care of it yourself, you coward," Mom replied nonchalantly, raising a haughty brow at him. She had become great at getting under his skin over the last couple years.

Dad made a face like a fish gasping for air. Without saying another word, he turned on his heel. We heard him slam the door to the master bedroom seconds later.

"Now he's pissed. Ah, well." Mom smiled sweetly. "Where were we?"

"Mom!"

"Hmm?"

"Are you for real? There's a ghost downstairs, I'm scared now!" I couldn't believe I had to explain this to her.

"But there's no need for that! Like you said, it's downstairs. Not here."

"Well, what if it comes upstairs?"

"We'll worry about that when it happens."

I lay wide awake that night. You'd think with everything I'd already seen up to that point, I would have lost some of my apprehensions, but I find that when it comes to the supernatural, it's only healthy to stay cautious. I still get the shivers even now when something goes bump in the night, and I wouldn't have it any other way.

The noises in the basement didn't cease, and each one made me twitch and shudder. Somehow, this was much worse than the door-slamming yule lad. It felt distinctly more disconcerting.

The following day at the breakfast table, I was so puffed up and sleep-deprived that I couldn't swallow a single bite. I begged and pleaded with my mother to somehow take care of the problem, but all she had to offer were pointless words of reassurance.

"That's the thing about poltergeists, honey. If you take them seriously, you're giving them what they want. Just don't let it get to you," she told me.

The following night was even worse though. The noises had moved up onto the ground floor, and whatever was causing them had absolutely wrecked our kitchen and living room. The trash can had been knocked over, books were lying on the floor beneath their shelf, plates and glasses had been shattered. On top of that, my younger siblings were now just as terrified as me, so Dad became a lot more insistent about it.

Mom finally agreed to check out the goings-on, asking me if I wanted to stay up with her in wait for the ghost. I wouldn't be able to sleep anyways, so I figured I might as well. We prepared cleansing salt and sage which we would utilize to purify the room once the spirit would appear. My mother insisted that she was the one who'd deploy these defences as I was too inexperienced. She squeezed herself into one of the kitchen cupboards—short and slim as she was, she actually fit in entirely. I hid under the sofa, legs stretched out and belly pressed to the ground.

We waited for what felt like an eternity, a giddy kind of excitement keeping us both awake. I was still just as afraid, but something about secretly expecting the haunting to happen was really thrilling. It did happen, and none too late. Around midnight was when the first pots and pans started clanging together. My heart rate quickened instantly and I dug my teeth into my lower lip. The air in the room suddenly seemed to jitter as ragged breaths and an eerie wheezing sound rang out from the kitchen. My entire body tensed in fearful anticipation; I was filled with a nervous energy that made me feel like I was about to explode.

Floorboards creaked as footsteps started moving towards the living room area. I had expected Mom to use her cleansing salt at this point, so I was a bit confused as to why she was letting the ghost proceed. I admittedly couldn't see very much from my hiding place, but I could tell it definitely wasn't my mother coming out of her spot—the steps sounded weird and wrong. Peeking out into the darkness, I could make out a pair of unnaturally thin legs moving about in the room. They were extremely unsettling to look at, all gnarled and bony. Perhaps we'd been wrong about this entity. Granted, I'd never seen a poltergeist before, but this was a much more physical form than I'd imagined one to possess.

The legs started dragging closer, and that's when I realized that they ended in big, pointy chicken claws instead of feet. This was definitely not a ghost.

Cold sweat broke out on my forehead as my mind started racing with thoughts about what could have possibly found its way into our home. Mom had most likely already realized we'd made a mistake and that was why she was staying in hiding. The creature started stoming around so heavily that the porcelain on the shelves started jangling. The thing began to jump all across the floor, kicking down chairs and eventually flipping our table. The bangs and crashes were loud enough to make me wince each time and its hopping made the floor shudder beneath me.

I was too afraid to keep watching, opting to press my eyes shut and block out the noise instead. I really shouldn't have done that, for I didn't realize in time that the creature had moved behind my sofa. Before I knew it, I felt long fingers gripping my ankles. I let out a sharp cry of fear as I was dragged across the floor, out from under the sofa and flung into the air. I landed painfully on my back, whimpering as I struggled to push myself back up only to find myself facing a grotesque-looking entity.

It was a hunchbacked, haggard old woman with a large chicken beak smack in the middle of her ghastly face. I cried out, but she was upon me within the blink of an eye, grabbing me by the collar and forcefully pulling me to my feet. Suddenly, I heard a sharp scream of fury—my mother had come tumbling out of the cupboard and was now charging at the creature from the side, trying to pry her away from me.

"Get your hands off my daughter, you dirty old crone!" she yelled, reaching right up to the monster's eyes as if to gouge them out.

The creature let go of me and staggered backwards. My mother rushed right to my side, wrapping both arms around me as she glared daggers at this bizarre-looking thing. For a few seconds, all was silent.

"Get out of my house, Kikimora!" Mom said in a steely, low voice.

The old woman let out something akin to a giggle; a high-pitched, uncanny sound that sent chills down my spine. Then, she disappeared, simply vanishing into thin air.

My mother's chest was heaving. "This isn't over," she mumbled. It wasn't a threat. It was a statement.

"You mean she's not going away?" I asked.

"Worse. Everyone, wake up!" she shouted, raising her voice as she began stomping up the stairs. "Honey, get me a marker or something."

My mother ordered us to draw crosses on the other sides of our pillows, then sent us back to sleep while staying up to guard the upper floor. I came to relieve her from duty an hour later, after I'd calmed down and taken a little power nap.

"So?" I asked as I helped her up from her seat by the staircase.

"That's no poltergeist," Mom explained, rubbing her eyes. "It's a Kikimora. The domestic kind. Wants to drive people insane to chase them out of their houses. When she's in a really bad mood, she'll try to eat their souls."

Mom had already explained the whole soul-thing to me, so I knew to be frightened. "The crosses on our pillows, will they protect us?"

"Yeah, don't worry. So long as you're asleep in bed, you'll be fine."

I took her seat and started waiting. There hadn't been any noises since our face-to-face encounter earlier. Maybe the Kikimora was hiding somewhere, watching me. The thought alone sent chills down my spine. As the minutes seeped by, I was getting increasingly tired. It wasn't easy fending off sleep. I tried to recall the image of the creepy old chicken woman, and just when I thought my mind was finally occupied enough to stay clear, I heard a sharp scream and my eyes flew open.

Wait, had I been dozing this entire time?

I didn't have much time to ponder that, though. My little sister Julia was standing in the hallway, a plastic cup lying in a pool of milk at her feet. She was pointing at the window across from us, her mouth agape. My parents came running to check on us, and immediately Julia started to babble. The poor thing was scared out of her mind.

"There was this white rabbit… A ghost rabbit! It was just hopping along and then this chicken woman came and she tried to catch it! They were over there, and I was right here, but they didn't notice me!"

"A ghost rabbit," my father repeated.

Mom had gone very pale.

"Yeah," Julia went on. "But the rabbit jumped out the window just in time! Right on through, like it was open."

My mother slowly began walking over to me. "Honey, did you fall asleep?" she inquired.

I didn't reply, merely stared up at her with wide eyes. "Something's different."

In the week that followed, we tried to chase away the Kikimora by hanging various charms around the house. She stopped bothering us eventually, but the ghost rabbit never returned. My mom kept telling me my soul would one day find its way back to me, but it's been so long since then. I actually started convincing myself that I'm alright, and most days, I'm actually unaware of the disconnect, but even so, something is missing and I've always known it.

Back to the present—Cas and I have had a long talk, and we've decided that if there's a chance I could have my soul back, we need to take it. We need help though, from someone who not only knows their way around the forest, but around souls and all that spiritual stuff. And to my great dismay, I know only one person who fits that scheme.

Jacek of the old black mill.

X

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 8

Part 9

Part 10

Part 11

Part 12

Part 13

Part 14

Part 15