Origin of The Suff
“Why did you come here?” The villager went down on the ground. Everyone around him had already died. He was the last one left to look at the horror that ate up his life.
The short man stood still as tears ran down his face. His bag hung by his side, unused, burning a hole through him. His fingers trembled as he went to open his bag.
“No.” The villager was breathing heavily as he glared at the intruder in front of him, “They were right. You are…”
“I am not. I am not the suffering.” The short man completed his sentence before losing consciousness himself.
Sanus stopped as he saw the man on the bed. He was brought in by the two men tasked to carry the patients in and out of the makeshift infirmary. The sound of war made its way into the tent from the flaps as they left to bring in more people.
The healer shook his head as the wounded man groaned in pain. He had last seen the man five winters back and hoped to never see him again. His right side was bleeding heavily from constant stabs by enemies. Sanus wondered how he was still breathing. Gods must be smiling down on him.
He went to his bag and brought out clean cloth strips to clean the wound and inspect the extent of damage. Before Sanus could touch the man, he grabbed one of his long arms, “I remember you!”
Sanus’ eyes widened. He had made sure to cut his hair till his head gleamed. He even made sure to cover his mouth with a cloth. Yet, his village’s best soldier and the worst brute had recognized him. It was hard to shake off his hold. There was a reason the healer got rejected from joining their army even when they had only a handful of soldiers from their village.
“Short legs!” The man was breathing heavily. He would die soon if not treated. His hold was slowly slipping, “Get away from me.” Sanus would have loved nothing more. But he was bound by his honor as a healer to treat him. And it was sacred to him. It was his way to prove everyone in his life wrong.
He let the background moans and groans wash over him to drown out the curses spewing from his current patient. He was able to get his arm back after a while. He got to work, itching to use the strips to tie the brute’s hands above his head.
“I should have killed you.” He would have had Sanus not run off in the middle of the night. He looked at his bag before taking a deep breath to calm himself down. He pressed his lips together to stop himself from crying.
Drought when he was born. Flood in the following summers. And a disease that slowly devoured most of his village. Sanus had been shunned long before the army came. The flood of memories was enough to make his legs buckle under him.
“You killed them all.” The man spit on him, “You wretched rascal!” He made for his throat with the knife he had in his armor and cut Sanus before he could react.
“I am trying to save you!” Sanus shouted at him, cradling his now bleeding arms.
The surrounding patients could only watch the scene that unfolded before them in shock. A young man even stood up from the end to help Sanus.
“Like you saved them all!?” The man sneered as he bared his dirty teeth at him. He struggled to stand up and made for his target again, bent on killing the man who had just saved his life. He was able to get a few cuts in before he went for the throat again.
That was the last mistake of his life.
Sanus was miles away from the infirmary before he stopped to take a break. Not willing to glance back, he dragged his feet forward till he fell dead on his legs.
He heard a sound from his left and looked up to watch a child looking at him in horror. He focused his eyes to see that the child was not looking at him but the grounds behind him.
Acres and acres of land covered in dead bodies of war soldiers. Not moaning, not groaning, and not even bleeding. Just dead.
The child looked at Sanus and ran off howling.
Sanus wandered around till he could find human establishment again. His bag of herbs and bandages that he kept helped him gain the trust of the people. But soon, his herbs would stop working, and people began dying rapidly. The suffering followed him everywhere he went till his reputation spread far and wide.
People threw stones at him, not letting him enter their villages.
Some even went a step further. They carved a large figure that resembled his unusual stature from wood and hung it on a block outside their premises as a warning to him. Others made a liking of him from the tales and burned it on the periphery of their village if they feared he was going to come near them.
No one knew his name, only the suffering he brought with himself. Yet, the elders were sure that even the shadow of this creature should not fall on their children. And maybe they were right.
Nothing could stop the devastation he carried within him. There was nowhere left for him to go but home.
He hoped that he would not be turned away this time. But he was greeted by a situation far more gruesome. And he was the cause of it. He could see his house burning from a distance. His throat started hurting as he moved closer till he could see the dead bodies lining the streets. People cried and gasped as they held the dead bodies of their loved ones while fighting for their own lives.
A young man recognized him and moved towards him at a sluggish pace. Maybe Sanus would have lived had he not seen the accusation in the eyes of his own brother. He would not have gone down with the simple plea on his lips, “…not the suff…”
This story took hold in my head after reading so much of The Suff stories that are going around Substack. I just had to know how this entity came into being. If you are unaware of the Suff, you can visit the timeline on Macabre Monday by The Chronicler. I am sure you would love all the tales around the character. Or you can start here.
This is only Part 1 of my story. The next part is linked down below where Sanus tries to get out of his predicament.
