Single Piece Events |
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Scottie's Spoopy Stories
I request of you lovelies: give me my Halloween without the scariness! Give me your spoopiest story!! I want you to choose something scary (axe murderer, vampires, SPIDERS) BUT make it funny. Give me a story about a vampire who is scared of the dark! Give me a story about killer candyfloss! Give me a story about a spider who forces the reader to tap dance…Actually scratch that...it’ll just give me nightmares!! I request of thee, 100 to 1000 of your spoopiest words!! Title it whatever you wish |
I've got the juice
Well, I need a good juicy tale for a very scary night. The story needs to be at least 1000 words!! You are free to write your story as you wish, but it has to have a scary element to it. |
“And….there.” She leaned back in the chair, studying her craftsmanship. She beamed at him. “I think that about does it. Do you want to see?”
He nodded his head, grinning from ear to ear in his excitement. Her smile grew and she reached over for the hand mirror. “Ok, ok,” she soothed. “Give me a second to get the mirror.”
She settled before him again, the reflective side of the mirror pointed to her chest. “Ready?”
He nodded again with more vigor and she turned the mirror around. He gaped at his reflection.
The costume he had wanted to wear wasn’t something common enough to be in the stores so his mom had helped him gather the necessary pieces. He looked so cool. He bounced up and down, gesturing widely in his excitement. She laughed. “Slow down. I can’t track your signing well when you gesture like that. I want to know what you were saying.”
“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” he sad instead, no longer remembering what he had said in his excitement. The repeated gesture was quick, sharp and belayed his enthusiasm. She laughed again and hugged him, mindful of his face paint.
“You’re welcome,” she gushed. The doorbell rang as she pulled away. She glanced towards the direction of the front door, her expression softening. “That must be them. Ready to go trick-or-treating?”
He nodded again, grabbing his candy basket in the shape of a pumpkin head before grabbing her hand.
The front door opened to reveal Nathan and his dad, Mr. Jones.
“Thank you again for taking Luther trick-or-treating, Marcus.”
Mr. Jones gave her a soft smile. “Not a problem, Samantha. I hope things are not as dire as they can be if you’re being called in this late.”
She chuckled. “Probably not but we can hope.” She knelt so that she was eye level with Nathan. “You look amazing in your Batman outfit, Nathan. Did you make it?”
“All by myself,” the other boy announced fiercely, puffing up in pride.
“Daisy helped with the gluing while I was stuck on cutting duty,” Mr. Jones offered to her in a soft voice. He and Nathan still heard him but it only made Nathan puff up more.
“Sounds like you did a fantastic job,” she directed to Nathan. The boy flushed but pushed his chin higher.
Mr. Jones looked to him in turn and Luther wrapped his fingers around the hem of his mom’s uniform shirt. “And who are you, Luther?”
“He’s the Scarecrow, obviously,” Nathan announced loudly. Luther beamed at him.
Mr. Jones smiled softly down at him. “Now I see it. Ready to trick-or-treat?”
Luther nodded but didn’t move from his mom’s side even as she stood up. “Will you be ok with, ah..”
“I can manage,” Mr. Jones assured her. “If anything comes up, I can Facetime you or see if Peter’s able to translate.”
She nodded. “I’ll keep my phone on me, then. If you do catch a-hold of Peter tonight, tell him I say hi and I expect a call from him sometime this week. It’s been too long.”
Mr. Jones dipped his head. “Of course. Come on, Luther.”
Luther hesitantly grasped the offered hand, letting Mr. Jones lead him from his home and away from the door. He waved at his mom with the hand still grasping the bucket and she waved goodbye back before she disappeared back into their home.
He had expected them to get into Mr. Jones’s car when they stopped at it but instead Mr. Luther simply opened the trunk and pulled out a child’s coat and a tote bag. He passed the bag to Nathan as he shut the trunk. “Here’s your bag, Nathan. We’ll try the homes around here first.”
“Ok,” Nathan announced, taking the bag. The boy took the lead down the sidewalk and Luther followed behind at a slightly sedated pace.
They turned a corner and suddenly the streets weren’t so empty. Left and right doors were being opened for trick-or-treaters and families standing on doorsteps chatting with neighbors. He looked around in amazement, eyes wide under the paint he wore instead of a proper mask. Nathan charged up to the first house and rung the doorbell himself. Luther hurried forward to stand by Nathan as the door opened.
“Trick or treat!” Nathan all bout shouted when the owner appeared.
“Sweet costumes, dudes,” the man appraised. “Here’s some candy.”
Candy was dropped into Luther’s bucket and Nathan’s tote and Luther beamed as Nathan exclaimed, “Thank you!”
The man blinked at them but Nathan was already marching back towards his dad. Luther gave his own thank you before chasing after Nathan.
“Did you two get some candy?” Mr. Jones asked, looking down at their displayed stashes. Luther beamed upon Mr. Jones’s praise. “Well done. Shall we see about the next house?”
The two of them nodded and it was easy for Luther to run with Nathan to the next door. That is till he realized which house they were going up to.
The yard was dark, the front porch lit by an eerie light, and his feet skidded to a halt at the top of the walk. Nathan was already a third of the way, ignoring the first trap that jumped at him, but Luther jumped and he wasn’t even near it.
Nathan stopped before the next spook. It was almost like someone had commanded him to stop but had left any other command unsaid. Abruptly, he turned and stomped back to Luther. He grabbed Luther’s free hand with a determined look on his face. “I won’t let the bad, scaring things get you. This way you get candy too.”
Luther blinked at him and Nathan made a face. He tugged on Luther’s hand. “Follow behind me and watch my feet. I will get us to the door.”
Luther fell into step behind Nathan, gripping tight to the other’s hand. He did as the other had said, watching Nathan’s feet and keeping pace. The spooky things moved and made noise but he ignored them. Nathan stopped and moved Luther to the side. With a sharp nod, Nathan rang the doorbell and shoved his tote forward when the door opened almost instantly. Luther mimicked him as the other shouted, “Trick or treat!”
“Here you go, boys.” Luther’s eyes grew wide at the bag of Skittles. Those were his favorite and they were giving him the big bag!
“Thank you!” Nathan shouted and Luther gestured, beaming.
He raced with Nathan back down the walk, the scary things not seeming quite so scary with Nathan’s hand in his and a big bag of Skittles in his bucket.
He nodded his head, grinning from ear to ear in his excitement. Her smile grew and she reached over for the hand mirror. “Ok, ok,” she soothed. “Give me a second to get the mirror.”
She settled before him again, the reflective side of the mirror pointed to her chest. “Ready?”
He nodded again with more vigor and she turned the mirror around. He gaped at his reflection.
The costume he had wanted to wear wasn’t something common enough to be in the stores so his mom had helped him gather the necessary pieces. He looked so cool. He bounced up and down, gesturing widely in his excitement. She laughed. “Slow down. I can’t track your signing well when you gesture like that. I want to know what you were saying.”
“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” he sad instead, no longer remembering what he had said in his excitement. The repeated gesture was quick, sharp and belayed his enthusiasm. She laughed again and hugged him, mindful of his face paint.
“You’re welcome,” she gushed. The doorbell rang as she pulled away. She glanced towards the direction of the front door, her expression softening. “That must be them. Ready to go trick-or-treating?”
He nodded again, grabbing his candy basket in the shape of a pumpkin head before grabbing her hand.
The front door opened to reveal Nathan and his dad, Mr. Jones.
“Thank you again for taking Luther trick-or-treating, Marcus.”
Mr. Jones gave her a soft smile. “Not a problem, Samantha. I hope things are not as dire as they can be if you’re being called in this late.”
She chuckled. “Probably not but we can hope.” She knelt so that she was eye level with Nathan. “You look amazing in your Batman outfit, Nathan. Did you make it?”
“All by myself,” the other boy announced fiercely, puffing up in pride.
“Daisy helped with the gluing while I was stuck on cutting duty,” Mr. Jones offered to her in a soft voice. He and Nathan still heard him but it only made Nathan puff up more.
“Sounds like you did a fantastic job,” she directed to Nathan. The boy flushed but pushed his chin higher.
Mr. Jones looked to him in turn and Luther wrapped his fingers around the hem of his mom’s uniform shirt. “And who are you, Luther?”
“He’s the Scarecrow, obviously,” Nathan announced loudly. Luther beamed at him.
Mr. Jones smiled softly down at him. “Now I see it. Ready to trick-or-treat?”
Luther nodded but didn’t move from his mom’s side even as she stood up. “Will you be ok with, ah..”
“I can manage,” Mr. Jones assured her. “If anything comes up, I can Facetime you or see if Peter’s able to translate.”
She nodded. “I’ll keep my phone on me, then. If you do catch a-hold of Peter tonight, tell him I say hi and I expect a call from him sometime this week. It’s been too long.”
Mr. Jones dipped his head. “Of course. Come on, Luther.”
Luther hesitantly grasped the offered hand, letting Mr. Jones lead him from his home and away from the door. He waved at his mom with the hand still grasping the bucket and she waved goodbye back before she disappeared back into their home.
He had expected them to get into Mr. Jones’s car when they stopped at it but instead Mr. Luther simply opened the trunk and pulled out a child’s coat and a tote bag. He passed the bag to Nathan as he shut the trunk. “Here’s your bag, Nathan. We’ll try the homes around here first.”
“Ok,” Nathan announced, taking the bag. The boy took the lead down the sidewalk and Luther followed behind at a slightly sedated pace.
They turned a corner and suddenly the streets weren’t so empty. Left and right doors were being opened for trick-or-treaters and families standing on doorsteps chatting with neighbors. He looked around in amazement, eyes wide under the paint he wore instead of a proper mask. Nathan charged up to the first house and rung the doorbell himself. Luther hurried forward to stand by Nathan as the door opened.
“Trick or treat!” Nathan all bout shouted when the owner appeared.
“Sweet costumes, dudes,” the man appraised. “Here’s some candy.”
Candy was dropped into Luther’s bucket and Nathan’s tote and Luther beamed as Nathan exclaimed, “Thank you!”
The man blinked at them but Nathan was already marching back towards his dad. Luther gave his own thank you before chasing after Nathan.
“Did you two get some candy?” Mr. Jones asked, looking down at their displayed stashes. Luther beamed upon Mr. Jones’s praise. “Well done. Shall we see about the next house?”
The two of them nodded and it was easy for Luther to run with Nathan to the next door. That is till he realized which house they were going up to.
The yard was dark, the front porch lit by an eerie light, and his feet skidded to a halt at the top of the walk. Nathan was already a third of the way, ignoring the first trap that jumped at him, but Luther jumped and he wasn’t even near it.
Nathan stopped before the next spook. It was almost like someone had commanded him to stop but had left any other command unsaid. Abruptly, he turned and stomped back to Luther. He grabbed Luther’s free hand with a determined look on his face. “I won’t let the bad, scaring things get you. This way you get candy too.”
Luther blinked at him and Nathan made a face. He tugged on Luther’s hand. “Follow behind me and watch my feet. I will get us to the door.”
Luther fell into step behind Nathan, gripping tight to the other’s hand. He did as the other had said, watching Nathan’s feet and keeping pace. The spooky things moved and made noise but he ignored them. Nathan stopped and moved Luther to the side. With a sharp nod, Nathan rang the doorbell and shoved his tote forward when the door opened almost instantly. Luther mimicked him as the other shouted, “Trick or treat!”
“Here you go, boys.” Luther’s eyes grew wide at the bag of Skittles. Those were his favorite and they were giving him the big bag!
“Thank you!” Nathan shouted and Luther gestured, beaming.
He raced with Nathan back down the walk, the scary things not seeming quite so scary with Nathan’s hand in his and a big bag of Skittles in his bucket.
The scream cut through his dream and he jerked sideways as a cacophony of sound assaulted his ears. Gun fire, the sound of rain, people shouting, the wretched screams of the things outside trying to get in pounded inside his head as he scrambled to gather his things.
Bedroll was bundled in swift, practiced motions and tied securely to his already packed bag. He shoved on his shoes, his heavy coat that was several sizes too big, and then yanked the oversize backpack onto his back. She was there, arms wrapping around him, forcing his head down, leading him out of the room.
The icy air stung his exposed head, clawing at his ears and his face, at his hands. He curled in on himself, denying the air access, but she didn’t let him get far. She shoved him forward, forcing him to move faster. He stumbled, legs too short to keep up with the pace she was setting.
The air outside was even worse. The wind found its way up his coat, freezing him before he even got the chance to step into the freezing rain. She yanked at his hood. It blocked most of the view but it kept his face dry. He felt her yank on his bag as she had done in similar weather and knew she was pulling out its protective shell. It a matter of seconds they were in the thick of the storm, her feet sure in the slick mud he kept losing his footing in.
He was sure there would be a bruise on his arm by the time they stopped moving.
This way and that they rushed, trees eating at what light was barely there to begin with. Many times he was jerked away from a tree that suddenly appeared, marveling at how she had yet to actually collide with one.
His foot slipped in the mud of the sudden incline.
There were sharp things in the mud his hand sank into to keep himself from falling in it completely. Her grip on his arm saved him the rest of the way but her touch was not gentle when she yanked him back to his feet. Up the hill she shoved him, staying behind him so that she could keep him upright as he slid almost every step on the steep incline.
She didn’t stop when they reached the top.
He curled his throbbing hand against his chest under the coat. It was throbbing painfully, as was his other shoulder, and he wanted to just curl up and go back to sleep now that the adrenaline had worn off. He was tired, cold, and muddy, and yet she wouldn’t stop. On and on she forced a quick pace with a tight grip on his arm. But he knew better than to cry out when he slipped again, something digging into his leg this time. He knew better than to make any more noise than they were already making as she forced him to keep going.
The tears, though…those he could let fall at will and silently sobbed as he was dragged along on a leg that burned and with a hand that was growing painfully numb.
He didn’t see what happened.
The hood she had shoved over his head had only fallen lower over his face the more they walked in the rain and so when her grip suddenly jerked on his arm, he was thrown to the ground unprepared for the yank. Mud surged up around him and he pressed against it to get out of its cold grip. The scream escaped as a strangled cry nearby was swallowed in the rain. His hand went from a painful numb to excruciating pain and he was nearly blinded by it. He curled as best he could around his hand, shaking as he started to sob.
Something touched his head and he jerked away, the momentum too much and sending him backwards in the mud. Whatever had touched his head grabbed his shoulder and his momentum was halted by a hand far larger than his own.
His hood, however, kept going, leaving him clear to see what exactly had caught him.
He screamed.
A gruff, echoing voice offered soft shushing noises as the thing lowered itself. Its form quickly settled into something human shape. He was barely able to see that the thing was kneeling before him, hand still on his shoulder.
“I’m taking you to safety,” that low, echoing voice spoke without a mouth, the final words the only ones to register in his brain.
He shook his head, shoving the words around a choked sob. “N-no. You’re gonna kill me. You’re going to take my soul!”
The thing quivered at that. “There are things in these woods that certainly will,” the thing assured him, “but I am not one of them. Please. Trust me.”
“But what of my mom?” he asked as he started crying harder.
This time the thing cringed, curling away from him. “I wasn’t fast enough,” they spoke, but the echoing made the thing’s voice quiver oddly. “But I can be fast enough to save you, if you’ll let me.”
He sniffled, rubbing at his face. He flinched when pain flared in his hand. Curling his injured hand into his chest, he rubbed at his face awkwardly with his other hand. “Ok,” he muttered.
The thing shifted closer. “I’m going to pick you up, ok?”
He nodded, too tired and too cold from the icy rain on his head and dripping into his shirt to care. The thing’s arms wrapped around him, blessed darkness washing over him as a blessed warmth chased the cold away. Sleep came almost instantly.
When he awoke, he found himself in a room where the walls and ceiling were made of wood. In a corner a fire was crackling merrily in a metal contraption he had never seen before and the bed itself was covered in furs. He shifted about, finding a few quilts creating a layer between him and the furs. He petted the closest fur that looked interesting, the fur itself soft and leaving an odd sensation in the back of his mind.
There was a soft knock on the door to the room. He realized there were no windows as it opened.
The thing entered carrying a tray. The thing had created a form with a bit more details than a humanoid shape and he found himself relaxing at the kind expression on the thing’s face. There was still no mouth, though, as it spoke, “I made some food, if you’re hungry.”
A ball of fur which was actually several balls of fur came rushing past the thing and launching onto the bed. His squeals of fear and surprise quickly turned into shrieks of delight and laughter as he quickly found that the balls of fur were dogs of varying types and he quickly grew elated to have such loving creatures seeking his affection.
Soft noises echoed through the room and slowly, one by one, the number of dogs hounding him dwindled till one settled on his lap happy with the belly rubs he was giving as the thing settled in a chair at the side of the bed, tray no longer in hand and the dogs all happily sitting or laying about the bed and surrounding floor. An old golden colored one he hadn’t seen yet rested its chin on the thing’s thigh, getting slow, gentle pets in return.
“She was the first puppy I took in,” the thing offered gently, the words heavy as the echo made them ring. “I had taken in other dogs but never a puppy before. It had certainly been interesting to learn how to tend to a puppy but I certainly wouldn’t change anything. She’s been an incredible companion ever since.”
He reached out carefully. The dog lifted her head from the thing’s thigh and pressed her nose to his hand. Her breath ghosted over his skin before she licked slowly at his palm, exhaustion in the gesture. He moved his hand to the top of her head, making long petting strokes over the soft fur and she returned her chin to the thing’s thigh.
“Have you been around dogs before?” the thing asked into the silence.
He shook his head. “We came across another group that had a few but I wasn’t allowed near them. I only saw the dogs as they were leaving.”
The thing seemed to smile at him. “You are very good with dogs if this is your first interaction.” The thingreached out and scratched one of the smaller dogs’ ear. “They certainly are happy you’re here.”
“Where is here?” he suddenly asked, looking up at the thing. What eyes it had formed were simply white on a shadow of a shape, shifting in shape and size in a way to convey emotions.
Those eyes blinked at him. “Some place safe,” the thing offered. “A cabin not far from where I found you.”
“How far from the camp did we go?” he asked, gripping at the quilt on his lap. The dog there had yet to get up from laying on its back. He was pretty sure it fell asleep like that.
The thing shook its head. “I don’t know. I tried to find your camp while you slept but I wasn’t able to find much. I’m sorry.”
He dropped his gaze, returning to rubbing the dog’s belly. It shifted in its sleep, rolling slightly onto its side and arching backwards so that there was more belly exposed. He rubbed the larger area.
He didn’t really have a response to the thing’s words. His mom had always been too concerned with keeping them alive that they never really stayed in one group long enough for him to get attached.
His thoughts went to the damage he had sustained from their last escape, of how she had pulled him along without a concern for his well being, and clenched his wrapped hand, tears welling up in him.
The thing’s hands wrapped around his clenched one and he blinked, looking up. The tears escaped, clearing his sight. “It’s alright,” the thing assured him. “She can’t hurt you anymore.”
And that was even worse.
He woke up feeling icky. There was gunk all about his eyes and it felt like someone had stuffed his face with cotton but at least he woke up to a bed full of dogs. The thing was removing panels from the wall with the utmost care, muted sunlight filling the room. A soft breeze drifted over his face from the window by his bed that had already been opened.
“I didn’t think this room had windows,” he commented. His words came out in a croak sort of way and he made a face.
The thing turned to him and those white eyes turned crescent shape in a sort of smiling way. The words carried the same soft smile expression. “I board them up at night to keep the Rogue out.”
“Rogue?” he parroted.
The thing pushed the window open. “The thing that attacked you and your mom. They’re like me, except not.”
He frowned. “What do you mean?”
The thing finally faced him, expression searching. “The Rogue are driven by….well, I guess it could be considered instinct.” The thing drew the chair a bit away from the bed and sat down. He didn’t like the distance suddenly between them. “Or just a single desire: the desire for human flesh.”
He flinched at that and the thing cringed before putting its hands up. “I know it sounds bad but hear me out real quick.” The thing hesitated. “I…It isn’t as simple as it sounds. We don’t have what makes a human,well, human. Whether that’s their heart or their soul, I don’t know. What I do know is this: whatever the Rogue desire, it is not something they can gain from consuming a human being but they are driven to obtain what they do not have.” The thing pressed a hand to its chest. “Deep within me is the desire to be more than what I am, to be that of a human, but I still have the cognitive strength - my mind is strong enough to know that doing harm to another sentient being will not give it to me.” The thing leaned forward, elbows going to its knees. “But the Rogue do not have that. They do not have the same strength of mind as I do, cannot think about things logically. They only desire and go after that desire in the only way they can see.”
He curled up, hand going to the nearest dog. It woke up, looked at him, and happily rolled over, tongue lulling out in joy. Another dog woke up enough to get up and settle against his hip, effectively creating a sort of safe guard.
“Do you fear me now?”
He looked up, bandaged hand stilling in the long fur of the dog he was petting. The thing had its face angled towards the ground but the eyes were a bit flat and looking up at him.
He shook his head. “You are taking care of me. And these dogs don’t fear you.” He rested his chin on his knees, returning to running his bandaged hand through the fur he could reach. “There was always talking about getting an animal of sorts. The things that attacked always made the animals uncomfortable just before the things would harm us.”
The thing made a noise but he didn’t understand what it meant. It didn’t seem important because the thing left it at that. Silence settled over the room, the only sounds coming from the open windows and sleeping dogs. After a long moment, the thing stood up, though it seemed hesitant in its motion. “Let’s check your leg. Your hand was easy to check and re-wrap while you were sleeping.”
He stopped petting the dog, allowing the thing to start waking and moving some of the dogs out of the way.
“What’s your name?” he asked a while later as the thing re-wrapped his leg. Supposedly it wasn’t bad but he didn’t trust the thing. The injury still hurt and looked nasty.
“I don’t have one,” the thing replied.
He made a face at that. “Why not?”
The thing shrugged before standing. “Never needed one. Do you want to go outside with me while I tend to some chores?”
He nodded and took the thing’s offered hands. He kept weight off his wrapped leg, waiting with the thing as the dogs started moving about. The largest came over and nuzzled him in the gut as he decided, “I’m going to call you Papi, then.”
“Poppy?” the thing parroted, helping him onto the dog’s back. The dog seemed quite content with having such charge and padded right along the thing’s side without a care in the world.
“Papi,” he confirmed. “Like Pauper but without the last ‘er’.” He let the thing pick him up and sit him in one of the chairs on the porch. “The Prince and the Pauper was my favorite story my mom used to tell me. The other kids used to say it wasn’t the right story the way she told it but I don’t care.”
“Well, since I’m Papi now, what do I call you?” the thing asked.
He grinned. “My name’s Daniel Prince but my mom called me Danny.”
Time passed in a blur after that. Papi taught him all that they knew, showing him how to tend to the different edible plants, what wild growth was and was not safe, and how to keep himself safe from the Rogue even without walls to protect him. Before he knew it, he was hunting on his own with a pack of dogs he had taken in himself and living quite well.
His leg hadn’t healed right, though. Neither really had his hand but he still had both so he counted himself lucky. He had learned to use his left hand just as efficiently as he had been with his right and despite the pronounced limp and occasional collapsing of his left leg, he was still able to be quick through the trees and steady on uneven terrain.
He saw less and less of Papi till they just stopped returning home. It hurt to look out into the darkening woods searching for Papi in among the growing shadows but he did it every night, putting up the star crystal they had found together next to the front door so that Papi would always have a light at home on.
The Rogue activity around his home grew worse as the years progressed. The number of groups of humans that would pass at the edge of his dwellings dwindled till it had been nearly half a year since the last group had passed with dire words. The things were becoming more aggressive and brave, or so the whispers had said. There had even been whispers of a possible sanctuary but he couldn’t bring himself to leave his home. Not while Papi was still out there.
He found a young girl lost or - stars forbid - abandoned in the woods near his home. He took her in, cleaned her up, and put her to bed with a full stomach. A Rogue tried to break in, too, but she thankfully slept through it.
He stopped putting the star crystal out after that.
The girl barely old enough to walk couldn’t remember her name so he called her Poppy in Papi’s memory. Nightmares and other challenges made that first year together fly by and by the time they were forced to leave the house he had basically grown up in, she was almost as tall as he was and able to hold her own as he had.
The house was brutally attacked, leaving him with an injured left leg once more and a nasty injury to the face. They had put some distance between them and the house before they had stopped, what number of the dogs that had survived, settling on the ground panting as hard as they were.
He hissed when she washed the injury on his face. “Gentle, Poppy, please,” he urged, trying his best not to flinch away from her touch.
She gained a conflicted expression. “I’m trying but it has to be cleaned before it gets infected. Do you want to bite down on something?”
He shook his head, shifting pressure off of his newly injured left leg as best he could. “Clean it, but be gentle around my eye. It hurts there the most.”
And gentle she was, but it did nothing for his eye. Two weeks later after it had healed they discovered he was now blind in that eye. His depth perception was shot for another few months as he adapted to it. His left leg wasn’t much better but at least it supported him now.
They started losing dogs in the middle of the night.
He shot upright, his good eye quickly snapping around their little camp picking out Poppy’s form and the three dogs. Heart pounding in his chest, he got up. He had to use a tree for support without his brace. They hadn’t had company of any sorts in the last two years of them traveling across the continent and he wasn’t sure if it was because there was no longer a threat or if there was no one else around to be hunted. His fingers dug into the bark as he tried to pick out what was in the trees. With a shaking hand, he pulled on the string around his neck and pulled the star crystal out from under his shirt.
The area was suddenly illuminated in a soft light that didn’t blind him in the process.
He gasped, nearly crashing back to the earth as the strength in his legs vanished. The star crystal thudded against his chest as he grabbed at the tree. He lowered himself slowly to the ground, staring at the shape in the shadows beyond their little camp.
“Papi?”
He got the distinct impression the shadow was smiling softly at him. “Hello, Danny. It’s good to see you again.”
He shook his head. “I don’t understand. You’re here?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
There was a pregnant pause and the longer it lasted, the more uncomfortable he grew.
“You’ve done well for yourself, Danny. She’ll be able to go far and do great things with your teachings.”
Fear stole his breath and a primal desire to protect drove him to his feet. He quickly placed himself between Papi and Poppy. The oldest of the three dogs woke at the commotion. Its head came around and it bared its teeth, growling. He found himself agreeing with the dog.
This was not Papi.
At least, it wasn’t the one he remembered.
“Please, Papi,” he tried, taking a shuffled step forward, hands reaching towards the shadow. “Think about this before you rip me from her life.”
“Would that be so bad?”
He stilled, a different emotion freezing his insides.
“It would allow her to move faster, to lessen the burden of another soul. It would free her, allow her to move without the hindrance of taking care of another soul.”
“What?” he choked, taking a startled step back. Papi - this thing - wasn’t saying what he thought it was, right?
The thing shifted its weight. “Clearly you have felt the weight of another soul on your shoulders. On your soul, even. You know how heavy that burden can be.”
He shook his head, arguing, “But that’s a burden that’s welcomed greatly. To help another through hard times and to find pleasure in their gratitude and willingness to offer aid in turn is what makes us human.”
“Does it, though? So many humans torture each other, it’s no surprise the Rogue exist.”
“What do you mean?” he asked, voice quaking against the underlying meanings he could make out.
The thing blinked at him. “Humans created the Rogue, the Shadows, whatever you want to call us. Some changed willingly, becoming the Rogue without a thought and annihilating what of humanity remained. Others fought it, fought what others forced them into, and changed into the benign things that became known as Shadows. But there were always a few that used it to their advantage, used it to experiment and discover just how far a human could be pushed before they broke and changed.”
He closed his good eye against the answer, his heart heavy in his chest as he asked, “And which one were you?”
The silence was heavy and it wasn’t till after he focused back on the thing that he got an answer.
“You are the 7th child out of 56 that I have taken away from parents in an assortment of manners. You were the first one that I killed the remaining parent and the only one to make it this long; though, that doesn’t mean much, seeing as there are still a few within their first five years.”
The words were stated with no emotion or inflections. They still hurt, knocking the wind out of him so thoroughly that he found himself on his knees as his lightheadedness faded. He gripped at the ground beneath his hands, asking, “And how many of those 56 are currently alive?”
“Including you and 'Poppy’?” His gaze snapped up in horror at that.
The thing stared at him. “That would depend. In what state would you consider them alive?”
The words were like a slap to his face as he choked on the scream. “Still human,” he clarified, the words wavering under his fight against screaming them at the thing still staring at him.
He didn’t get a direct answer and the longer the silence between them lasted, the sicker he felt.
Finally, the thing answered him.
“4.”
“And beyond Poppy and me, how many are of age?”
Another long pause.
“None.”
Bedroll was bundled in swift, practiced motions and tied securely to his already packed bag. He shoved on his shoes, his heavy coat that was several sizes too big, and then yanked the oversize backpack onto his back. She was there, arms wrapping around him, forcing his head down, leading him out of the room.
The icy air stung his exposed head, clawing at his ears and his face, at his hands. He curled in on himself, denying the air access, but she didn’t let him get far. She shoved him forward, forcing him to move faster. He stumbled, legs too short to keep up with the pace she was setting.
The air outside was even worse. The wind found its way up his coat, freezing him before he even got the chance to step into the freezing rain. She yanked at his hood. It blocked most of the view but it kept his face dry. He felt her yank on his bag as she had done in similar weather and knew she was pulling out its protective shell. It a matter of seconds they were in the thick of the storm, her feet sure in the slick mud he kept losing his footing in.
He was sure there would be a bruise on his arm by the time they stopped moving.
This way and that they rushed, trees eating at what light was barely there to begin with. Many times he was jerked away from a tree that suddenly appeared, marveling at how she had yet to actually collide with one.
His foot slipped in the mud of the sudden incline.
There were sharp things in the mud his hand sank into to keep himself from falling in it completely. Her grip on his arm saved him the rest of the way but her touch was not gentle when she yanked him back to his feet. Up the hill she shoved him, staying behind him so that she could keep him upright as he slid almost every step on the steep incline.
She didn’t stop when they reached the top.
He curled his throbbing hand against his chest under the coat. It was throbbing painfully, as was his other shoulder, and he wanted to just curl up and go back to sleep now that the adrenaline had worn off. He was tired, cold, and muddy, and yet she wouldn’t stop. On and on she forced a quick pace with a tight grip on his arm. But he knew better than to cry out when he slipped again, something digging into his leg this time. He knew better than to make any more noise than they were already making as she forced him to keep going.
The tears, though…those he could let fall at will and silently sobbed as he was dragged along on a leg that burned and with a hand that was growing painfully numb.
He didn’t see what happened.
The hood she had shoved over his head had only fallen lower over his face the more they walked in the rain and so when her grip suddenly jerked on his arm, he was thrown to the ground unprepared for the yank. Mud surged up around him and he pressed against it to get out of its cold grip. The scream escaped as a strangled cry nearby was swallowed in the rain. His hand went from a painful numb to excruciating pain and he was nearly blinded by it. He curled as best he could around his hand, shaking as he started to sob.
Something touched his head and he jerked away, the momentum too much and sending him backwards in the mud. Whatever had touched his head grabbed his shoulder and his momentum was halted by a hand far larger than his own.
His hood, however, kept going, leaving him clear to see what exactly had caught him.
He screamed.
A gruff, echoing voice offered soft shushing noises as the thing lowered itself. Its form quickly settled into something human shape. He was barely able to see that the thing was kneeling before him, hand still on his shoulder.
“I’m taking you to safety,” that low, echoing voice spoke without a mouth, the final words the only ones to register in his brain.
He shook his head, shoving the words around a choked sob. “N-no. You’re gonna kill me. You’re going to take my soul!”
The thing quivered at that. “There are things in these woods that certainly will,” the thing assured him, “but I am not one of them. Please. Trust me.”
“But what of my mom?” he asked as he started crying harder.
This time the thing cringed, curling away from him. “I wasn’t fast enough,” they spoke, but the echoing made the thing’s voice quiver oddly. “But I can be fast enough to save you, if you’ll let me.”
He sniffled, rubbing at his face. He flinched when pain flared in his hand. Curling his injured hand into his chest, he rubbed at his face awkwardly with his other hand. “Ok,” he muttered.
The thing shifted closer. “I’m going to pick you up, ok?”
He nodded, too tired and too cold from the icy rain on his head and dripping into his shirt to care. The thing’s arms wrapped around him, blessed darkness washing over him as a blessed warmth chased the cold away. Sleep came almost instantly.
When he awoke, he found himself in a room where the walls and ceiling were made of wood. In a corner a fire was crackling merrily in a metal contraption he had never seen before and the bed itself was covered in furs. He shifted about, finding a few quilts creating a layer between him and the furs. He petted the closest fur that looked interesting, the fur itself soft and leaving an odd sensation in the back of his mind.
There was a soft knock on the door to the room. He realized there were no windows as it opened.
The thing entered carrying a tray. The thing had created a form with a bit more details than a humanoid shape and he found himself relaxing at the kind expression on the thing’s face. There was still no mouth, though, as it spoke, “I made some food, if you’re hungry.”
A ball of fur which was actually several balls of fur came rushing past the thing and launching onto the bed. His squeals of fear and surprise quickly turned into shrieks of delight and laughter as he quickly found that the balls of fur were dogs of varying types and he quickly grew elated to have such loving creatures seeking his affection.
Soft noises echoed through the room and slowly, one by one, the number of dogs hounding him dwindled till one settled on his lap happy with the belly rubs he was giving as the thing settled in a chair at the side of the bed, tray no longer in hand and the dogs all happily sitting or laying about the bed and surrounding floor. An old golden colored one he hadn’t seen yet rested its chin on the thing’s thigh, getting slow, gentle pets in return.
“She was the first puppy I took in,” the thing offered gently, the words heavy as the echo made them ring. “I had taken in other dogs but never a puppy before. It had certainly been interesting to learn how to tend to a puppy but I certainly wouldn’t change anything. She’s been an incredible companion ever since.”
He reached out carefully. The dog lifted her head from the thing’s thigh and pressed her nose to his hand. Her breath ghosted over his skin before she licked slowly at his palm, exhaustion in the gesture. He moved his hand to the top of her head, making long petting strokes over the soft fur and she returned her chin to the thing’s thigh.
“Have you been around dogs before?” the thing asked into the silence.
He shook his head. “We came across another group that had a few but I wasn’t allowed near them. I only saw the dogs as they were leaving.”
The thing seemed to smile at him. “You are very good with dogs if this is your first interaction.” The thingreached out and scratched one of the smaller dogs’ ear. “They certainly are happy you’re here.”
“Where is here?” he suddenly asked, looking up at the thing. What eyes it had formed were simply white on a shadow of a shape, shifting in shape and size in a way to convey emotions.
Those eyes blinked at him. “Some place safe,” the thing offered. “A cabin not far from where I found you.”
“How far from the camp did we go?” he asked, gripping at the quilt on his lap. The dog there had yet to get up from laying on its back. He was pretty sure it fell asleep like that.
The thing shook its head. “I don’t know. I tried to find your camp while you slept but I wasn’t able to find much. I’m sorry.”
He dropped his gaze, returning to rubbing the dog’s belly. It shifted in its sleep, rolling slightly onto its side and arching backwards so that there was more belly exposed. He rubbed the larger area.
He didn’t really have a response to the thing’s words. His mom had always been too concerned with keeping them alive that they never really stayed in one group long enough for him to get attached.
His thoughts went to the damage he had sustained from their last escape, of how she had pulled him along without a concern for his well being, and clenched his wrapped hand, tears welling up in him.
The thing’s hands wrapped around his clenched one and he blinked, looking up. The tears escaped, clearing his sight. “It’s alright,” the thing assured him. “She can’t hurt you anymore.”
And that was even worse.
He woke up feeling icky. There was gunk all about his eyes and it felt like someone had stuffed his face with cotton but at least he woke up to a bed full of dogs. The thing was removing panels from the wall with the utmost care, muted sunlight filling the room. A soft breeze drifted over his face from the window by his bed that had already been opened.
“I didn’t think this room had windows,” he commented. His words came out in a croak sort of way and he made a face.
The thing turned to him and those white eyes turned crescent shape in a sort of smiling way. The words carried the same soft smile expression. “I board them up at night to keep the Rogue out.”
“Rogue?” he parroted.
The thing pushed the window open. “The thing that attacked you and your mom. They’re like me, except not.”
He frowned. “What do you mean?”
The thing finally faced him, expression searching. “The Rogue are driven by….well, I guess it could be considered instinct.” The thing drew the chair a bit away from the bed and sat down. He didn’t like the distance suddenly between them. “Or just a single desire: the desire for human flesh.”
He flinched at that and the thing cringed before putting its hands up. “I know it sounds bad but hear me out real quick.” The thing hesitated. “I…It isn’t as simple as it sounds. We don’t have what makes a human,well, human. Whether that’s their heart or their soul, I don’t know. What I do know is this: whatever the Rogue desire, it is not something they can gain from consuming a human being but they are driven to obtain what they do not have.” The thing pressed a hand to its chest. “Deep within me is the desire to be more than what I am, to be that of a human, but I still have the cognitive strength - my mind is strong enough to know that doing harm to another sentient being will not give it to me.” The thing leaned forward, elbows going to its knees. “But the Rogue do not have that. They do not have the same strength of mind as I do, cannot think about things logically. They only desire and go after that desire in the only way they can see.”
He curled up, hand going to the nearest dog. It woke up, looked at him, and happily rolled over, tongue lulling out in joy. Another dog woke up enough to get up and settle against his hip, effectively creating a sort of safe guard.
“Do you fear me now?”
He looked up, bandaged hand stilling in the long fur of the dog he was petting. The thing had its face angled towards the ground but the eyes were a bit flat and looking up at him.
He shook his head. “You are taking care of me. And these dogs don’t fear you.” He rested his chin on his knees, returning to running his bandaged hand through the fur he could reach. “There was always talking about getting an animal of sorts. The things that attacked always made the animals uncomfortable just before the things would harm us.”
The thing made a noise but he didn’t understand what it meant. It didn’t seem important because the thing left it at that. Silence settled over the room, the only sounds coming from the open windows and sleeping dogs. After a long moment, the thing stood up, though it seemed hesitant in its motion. “Let’s check your leg. Your hand was easy to check and re-wrap while you were sleeping.”
He stopped petting the dog, allowing the thing to start waking and moving some of the dogs out of the way.
“What’s your name?” he asked a while later as the thing re-wrapped his leg. Supposedly it wasn’t bad but he didn’t trust the thing. The injury still hurt and looked nasty.
“I don’t have one,” the thing replied.
He made a face at that. “Why not?”
The thing shrugged before standing. “Never needed one. Do you want to go outside with me while I tend to some chores?”
He nodded and took the thing’s offered hands. He kept weight off his wrapped leg, waiting with the thing as the dogs started moving about. The largest came over and nuzzled him in the gut as he decided, “I’m going to call you Papi, then.”
“Poppy?” the thing parroted, helping him onto the dog’s back. The dog seemed quite content with having such charge and padded right along the thing’s side without a care in the world.
“Papi,” he confirmed. “Like Pauper but without the last ‘er’.” He let the thing pick him up and sit him in one of the chairs on the porch. “The Prince and the Pauper was my favorite story my mom used to tell me. The other kids used to say it wasn’t the right story the way she told it but I don’t care.”
“Well, since I’m Papi now, what do I call you?” the thing asked.
He grinned. “My name’s Daniel Prince but my mom called me Danny.”
Time passed in a blur after that. Papi taught him all that they knew, showing him how to tend to the different edible plants, what wild growth was and was not safe, and how to keep himself safe from the Rogue even without walls to protect him. Before he knew it, he was hunting on his own with a pack of dogs he had taken in himself and living quite well.
His leg hadn’t healed right, though. Neither really had his hand but he still had both so he counted himself lucky. He had learned to use his left hand just as efficiently as he had been with his right and despite the pronounced limp and occasional collapsing of his left leg, he was still able to be quick through the trees and steady on uneven terrain.
He saw less and less of Papi till they just stopped returning home. It hurt to look out into the darkening woods searching for Papi in among the growing shadows but he did it every night, putting up the star crystal they had found together next to the front door so that Papi would always have a light at home on.
The Rogue activity around his home grew worse as the years progressed. The number of groups of humans that would pass at the edge of his dwellings dwindled till it had been nearly half a year since the last group had passed with dire words. The things were becoming more aggressive and brave, or so the whispers had said. There had even been whispers of a possible sanctuary but he couldn’t bring himself to leave his home. Not while Papi was still out there.
He found a young girl lost or - stars forbid - abandoned in the woods near his home. He took her in, cleaned her up, and put her to bed with a full stomach. A Rogue tried to break in, too, but she thankfully slept through it.
He stopped putting the star crystal out after that.
The girl barely old enough to walk couldn’t remember her name so he called her Poppy in Papi’s memory. Nightmares and other challenges made that first year together fly by and by the time they were forced to leave the house he had basically grown up in, she was almost as tall as he was and able to hold her own as he had.
The house was brutally attacked, leaving him with an injured left leg once more and a nasty injury to the face. They had put some distance between them and the house before they had stopped, what number of the dogs that had survived, settling on the ground panting as hard as they were.
He hissed when she washed the injury on his face. “Gentle, Poppy, please,” he urged, trying his best not to flinch away from her touch.
She gained a conflicted expression. “I’m trying but it has to be cleaned before it gets infected. Do you want to bite down on something?”
He shook his head, shifting pressure off of his newly injured left leg as best he could. “Clean it, but be gentle around my eye. It hurts there the most.”
And gentle she was, but it did nothing for his eye. Two weeks later after it had healed they discovered he was now blind in that eye. His depth perception was shot for another few months as he adapted to it. His left leg wasn’t much better but at least it supported him now.
They started losing dogs in the middle of the night.
He shot upright, his good eye quickly snapping around their little camp picking out Poppy’s form and the three dogs. Heart pounding in his chest, he got up. He had to use a tree for support without his brace. They hadn’t had company of any sorts in the last two years of them traveling across the continent and he wasn’t sure if it was because there was no longer a threat or if there was no one else around to be hunted. His fingers dug into the bark as he tried to pick out what was in the trees. With a shaking hand, he pulled on the string around his neck and pulled the star crystal out from under his shirt.
The area was suddenly illuminated in a soft light that didn’t blind him in the process.
He gasped, nearly crashing back to the earth as the strength in his legs vanished. The star crystal thudded against his chest as he grabbed at the tree. He lowered himself slowly to the ground, staring at the shape in the shadows beyond their little camp.
“Papi?”
He got the distinct impression the shadow was smiling softly at him. “Hello, Danny. It’s good to see you again.”
He shook his head. “I don’t understand. You’re here?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
There was a pregnant pause and the longer it lasted, the more uncomfortable he grew.
“You’ve done well for yourself, Danny. She’ll be able to go far and do great things with your teachings.”
Fear stole his breath and a primal desire to protect drove him to his feet. He quickly placed himself between Papi and Poppy. The oldest of the three dogs woke at the commotion. Its head came around and it bared its teeth, growling. He found himself agreeing with the dog.
This was not Papi.
At least, it wasn’t the one he remembered.
“Please, Papi,” he tried, taking a shuffled step forward, hands reaching towards the shadow. “Think about this before you rip me from her life.”
“Would that be so bad?”
He stilled, a different emotion freezing his insides.
“It would allow her to move faster, to lessen the burden of another soul. It would free her, allow her to move without the hindrance of taking care of another soul.”
“What?” he choked, taking a startled step back. Papi - this thing - wasn’t saying what he thought it was, right?
The thing shifted its weight. “Clearly you have felt the weight of another soul on your shoulders. On your soul, even. You know how heavy that burden can be.”
He shook his head, arguing, “But that’s a burden that’s welcomed greatly. To help another through hard times and to find pleasure in their gratitude and willingness to offer aid in turn is what makes us human.”
“Does it, though? So many humans torture each other, it’s no surprise the Rogue exist.”
“What do you mean?” he asked, voice quaking against the underlying meanings he could make out.
The thing blinked at him. “Humans created the Rogue, the Shadows, whatever you want to call us. Some changed willingly, becoming the Rogue without a thought and annihilating what of humanity remained. Others fought it, fought what others forced them into, and changed into the benign things that became known as Shadows. But there were always a few that used it to their advantage, used it to experiment and discover just how far a human could be pushed before they broke and changed.”
He closed his good eye against the answer, his heart heavy in his chest as he asked, “And which one were you?”
The silence was heavy and it wasn’t till after he focused back on the thing that he got an answer.
“You are the 7th child out of 56 that I have taken away from parents in an assortment of manners. You were the first one that I killed the remaining parent and the only one to make it this long; though, that doesn’t mean much, seeing as there are still a few within their first five years.”
The words were stated with no emotion or inflections. They still hurt, knocking the wind out of him so thoroughly that he found himself on his knees as his lightheadedness faded. He gripped at the ground beneath his hands, asking, “And how many of those 56 are currently alive?”
“Including you and 'Poppy’?” His gaze snapped up in horror at that.
The thing stared at him. “That would depend. In what state would you consider them alive?”
The words were like a slap to his face as he choked on the scream. “Still human,” he clarified, the words wavering under his fight against screaming them at the thing still staring at him.
He didn’t get a direct answer and the longer the silence between them lasted, the sicker he felt.
Finally, the thing answered him.
“4.”
“And beyond Poppy and me, how many are of age?”
Another long pause.
“None.”