The Changeling – Part One

So I accidentally started writing a horror story.

I was listening to a podcast called Lore which was creeping me out a bit, and which is narrated atop the sounds of soft piano music, and I heard something mentioned about an old legend involving fairies, and I just got a sudden surge of inspiration. I didn’t fight it, I just went with it.

So I sat down, put Moonlight Sonata on repeat, and started writing. Fair warning, this is a creepy story, and it isn’t finished yet, so be prepared for weird stuff going in. We’ll see what happens with this.

 


 

The fairy’s footsteps did not stir the twigs beneath her bare feet. The soft beating of her translucent wings did not make any sound in the dense night music of frogs and mosquitoes.

“Careful,” she whispered in a voice so smooth and soft that it was indistinguishable from the sigh of the night breeze, “We mustn’t wake anyone, or they’ll be onto us.” Next to her another fairy nodded, her eyes full of devotion. In the arms of the second fairy were a tiny bundle wrapped in fine silken cloth. Something moved inside it, but she took no notice.

The fairies crept closer to the small wooden house that stood amongst the trees. There were no lights on inside, and the moon shone brightly down, a spotlight illuminating that tiny house made of logs chopped from the trees of that very forest. A small wooden drawbridge passed over the stream next to which the house was built, and the fairies’ feet felt the warm texture of the wood as they passed over, with footsteps so light they may as well have been gliding.

They checked the window by the front door, but found it closed and locked. They crept quickly around to another side of the house and found it windowless, on the third side they found two windows. Behind the first one they saw a figure, a man with his back turned to the window. He was naked and the moon shone brightly upon him, illuminating his deep tan skin, his leg was thrown over something they could not see, and the curve of his buttocks reflected the light. The fairy holding the bundle suppressed a giggle. Her companion gave her a chiding look, and she nodded silently, her face falling back to an expression of utter seriousness.

They passed to the second window. Behind the glass they saw what they had come for, a wooden cradle, and in it a bundled child laying on its back. The fairies’ heartbeats both quickened at once when they saw the moonlight streaming in, illuminating the little infant’s face. Her eyes were closed, a wisp of blonde hair protruded from underneath the woolen cap about her head.

“Be ready,” whispered the fairy to her companion who held the bundle, “We must be quick.” The fairy who had spoken pressed her fingers against the cold glass of the window to find it locked. She narrowed her eyes, then turned to her companion, “Wait here,” she whispered. Her companion gave another wordless nod.

With the slightest flutter of her wings and the slightest push of her feet against the ground, the fairy flew up to the thatched rooftop, and glided swiftly to the chimney, which she leapt into with the grace of an otter into a stream, and her light body floated silently down the chimney. She scrunched her nose at the smell of the ashes, and as her feet touched the floor of the chimney she uttered the slightest cough, which would have sounded to anyone near like the sweet singing of a breeze through a crack. A large dog lay on a blanket by the front door, and for a moment it’s nose twitched, and the fairy clutched her own chest in fear, but then it exhaled and resumed the rhythmic breathing of sleep.

In a flash the fairy had glided across the room and through the open door to the nursery, and through the window she saw her companion, gazing steely-eyed at the child. She fluttered up to the window and, with more than a little difficulty, undid the latch, trying as hard as she could to be quiet, but the size and the weight of the thing were surprisingly hefty. Finally she had the latch undone, and she pressed her feet against the base of the window, pressed her hands against the sill, and with all the might in her body she pushed and pushed, until a last there was a loud creak and the window slid open, no more than a centimeter. She paused and took a breath, and then she tried again, opening the window a full inch. That was enough.

The fairy turned in fear and fluttered over to the doorway, peering out to see if the sound had roused the dog or the sleepers, but no, there was the creature still sleeping by the front door, and there was the even sound of two adults breathing in their sleep from the next room. The fairy fluttered back to the cradle, and saw that her companion had already slipped in through the open window, the bundle in her arms.

The fairies placed the bundle next to the sleeping baby, and then, they gathered the sleeping child up into their arms, one fairy holding it’s head while the other supported it’s lower body. The fairies were each roughly the same height as the infant, though far slimmer, and unlike the inanimate window, a living creature was infinitely easier to carry for a fairy. They nodded to one another and together they flew up into the air, and, unable to leave through the window, flew directly into the living room. They kept their eyes on the dog, which uttered a slight snore.

It was when they turned to look at the chimney that they started so hard they nearly dropped the baby.

The naked man stood in front of the chimney, facing the fairies, his face hidden in shadow. The fairies’ hearts beat frantically and, had they been less petrified they may have exchanged a look, but were presently too frozen with fear to do so.

The moonlight streaming in from the bedrooms cast a single beam across the man, and illuminated his broad chest, the thick hair on his stomach, and the tangles of hair around his groin, before he took a step forward and his face became clearer.

The man was looking directly at the baby, but the expression on his face was vacant. He took another step forward and then stopped. He kept staring at the baby, who did not move or make a sound.

Everything was silent.

Three seconds passed, then five, then ten. The man did not move, just stared, blank and unfeeling, toward the baby.

The first fairy glanced at her companion and something passed silently between them, until they both nodded and began to rise high into the air, the baby still held between them.

The man’s gaze did not follow. He kept staring at the place the baby had been.

The naked man took a step forward, then another, and passed directly under the fairies, moving toward the doorway of the nursery. The fairies shot to the fireplace as quickly as they could with their load, and then up the chimney. They passed up the dark, mucky place, each holding their breath so as not to cough up the stale air and drop the child, and as they broke free into the moonlight they each gasped the fresh night air.

The two fairies dropped down to the thatched rooftop and set the baby down on it’s flat surface, each taking a moment to breathe a sigh of relief. The first fairy spoke again, “Let’s be quick, now, the moon will fade soon, and we must bring the child as quickly as we can.” The companion simply nodded silently, as she had before.

The sleeping bundle between them, the two fairies ascended and fluttered on through the trees. The infant breathed silently and did not wake.

*

Emma jolted awake at the sound of the dog’s bark. She shot up in bed, her golden hair falling around her shoulders, and instinctively held the blanket up to cover her bare breasts. Her foggy gaze tried to find the doorway, and the shape of the large brown retriever standing in the doorway materialized, it’s tail wagging in agitation, it’s tongue hanging from it’s mouth. Emma looked to her left and reached out a hand for husband, but found his place empty. Her chest, hot with the fast beat or her heart, swam with relief as she realized what had happened.

“It’s alright,” she whispered comfortingly to the dog, “Daddy’s been sleepwalking again, hasn’t he?” She stood from the bed, and brought the blanket with her, drawing it close around her naked body for warmth and comfort, as she bent down to pat the dog on the head, “That’s a good boy. Now where is daddy?” she asked, and the dog immediately padded toward the nursery next door. Emma followed, and was momentarily disturbed by the sight of her husband, standing before the cradle and staring forward, blankly, out the window. Emma crept up quietly behind her husband.

“It’s alright,” she crooned silently, “The baby’s alright, Armand, I know,” and she slipped her arms around the warm flesh of her husband, the blanket coming with her and enveloping them both. She felt a little shudder of recognition from Armand. “It’s alright,” she said comfortingly, “You’re just walking in your sleep. You’ll wake up soon.”

Armand’s warm hand touched Emma’s. His eyes fluttered, and suddenly there was recognition in them. He lost his balance for a moment, but Emma steadied him. “It’s alright,” she whispered, “I’m here.”

Armand’s voice came to him. “Emma?” he asked tentatively.

“Yes, darling, it’s me,” said Emma, “You were sleepwalking again, it’s alright. Looks like you came to check on the baby.”

“Emma…” whispered Armand, “Emma…”

“What is it?” asked Emma worriedly, turning Armand to see a look of shock on his face, “What’s wrong, darling?”

Armand looked down at the cradle.

The blanket fell to the floor as Emma’s hands shot up to her mouth.

Something was inside the cradle, but it was not her baby. It was much smaller, it was the same as the size of the little doll that lay next to where her daughter should have been. It was wrapped in a white silk cloth, and it was moving.

Her head swimming with uncertainty, confusion, and fear, Emma reached down to the little thing which was now wriggling, and pinched the cloth in her fingers, pulling it back.

A little wooden figure, with two stumps for arms and two for legs, and a face with hollowed out carved eyes and a hollowed out mouth, smiled up at them, wriggling.

It’s little carved mouth moved, and a voice came from it.

“Mommy,” it crooned sweetly.

Emma’s heart stopped in her chest, her knees trembled, and then the world became red and pink and green around her, a swirl of colors until it all became an inky black, and she was lost to an abyss.

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words from the dark

words from the darkness
all in lower case
warm and sinking, deeper still
the warm and rotten place
the core, dirty, bleeding
the questions bouncing back off the walls
lay down, little one
be quiet now, and close your eyes
there aren’t any physical tears anymore
the rivers run over in the world’s inside
the fields that once were green now deep within the oceans
the plants have rotted through, drowned and soaked to death
if my eyes roll back
the dark comes again
and in it is peace
peace in acceptance
nothingness and oblivion
falling on and on until all existance is a part of nothingness
(there are too many mirrors
mirrors in people and in sand, telling me things that i can’t hear)
nobody and nobody and nobody
lay down now, stop eating
stop drinking, stop blinking, stop thinking
the end of all things, the beginning of nothing that stretches out into eternity
it’s like a fluid but it’s too soft to be, it’s black like thick honey
once it’s in a pool surrounded by cement but to touch it is to fall into it
this embrace, the embrace of the acceptance of fear and of death
death smiles, he welcomes
i don’t fear him, he speaks to me and his voice must sound terrifying but it isn’t like that
the devil is real and is all those things they said he was
but he’s living too, he understands love
no one knows love like those deep in the darkness
my residence here is temporary, everyone here knows it
the ghosts walk by and pat my head, “poor little one,” they say
“he’ll leave soon,” some smile as they reply, and they walk on
he
boys and boys and boys
can i swim up?
can i climb up?
i haven’t decided yet
let me sleep a little longer, i’m not ready for school
i have more to learn
more to find on the edge of death
behind these bright eyes is a darkness
these sockets are empty
this body is hollow
this spirit is gone and hasn’t returned yet
blood everywhere, and skin that’s ripped
ugliness and horror, screams
invite them in
whispers of darkness
pain and horror and fear don’t actually hurt
they can feel good if you love them in the eye
the sound here is like a womb
is it the womb of the earth?
the womb of the soul?
fluids are everywhere
what is solid is liquid here
can I say it? can I ask it?
can I ask you to sing for me?
can I ask you to touch my skin, with no meaning? just my friend?
can I ask you to be a lover that doesn’t care?
i’ve had enough
enough of the world above
but i don’t want to stay here
i don’t actually want to die
death knows this, he is sympathtic
he asks me when i’ll be going back
i don’t know what to say to him
disfigurement and horror dreams live here, demons possessing me and us all
but so warm, so thick, so simple
the glass up there is fragile
i waved goodbye to them and tried to go up but i fell again
always falling, he fell from heaven
cast out
cast
cast
cast