Come away, O human child
They came in the night, on little wings as thin as spiderwebs or on claws as sharp as shattered glass. They came for the food first, raiding cupboards and pantries for butter and sweet cake. They bled the dogs to puppet their skin and butchered the cows alive so they could dance to the screams.
A man crept through the dark of his home, every step careful and silent. He checked that the charm of rowan leaves was secure to the door before he carefully eased it open. He had barely taken a single step when he heard a crash of pots behind him. His heart jumped in his chest. One of them had it made it inside.
A cold wind blew across his face, and the fireplace blazed to sudden life.
His body betrayed him and turned around against his will. It crept into the light of the fire, the sound of breaking ice accompanied every step. The creature was as small as a fawn, its legs and arms narrow as willow branches. That hellish face looked like a man’s but stretched tight over a triangular skull. Hot fear squeezed his bowls; he felt the muscles of his ass tighten and the warm flush of urine as he wet himself. It sniffed the air, its mouth twisted in a mocking smile.
The man’s eyes darted around the dim room. To the rug of furs between them, the table still cluttered with the wooden plates and tin mugs from supper, the iron bell. The bell was hope if he could get to it. He summoned all his strength and willed his body to lunge. With a cry, he grabbed the bell by the warn handle, and with a bright, clear ding, the creature backed away.
He rang the bell in a frenzy and watched the thing stagger in and out of the light. Its hands clutched at pointed ears. It screamed with a sound like trees breaking in a storm. A thick, mud-brown sludge rolled out of its dark eyes. Mad laughter roared from his lips, mixed with the frenzied ringing of the bell, as the monster dropped to the floor.
Dizzying nausea washed over him, and the room seemed to fold into itself until all was dark. The man blinked rapidly. He was back by the door with the creature across from him, that awful smile wider. He hadn’t moved, and as it stepped closer, the man knew he’d never get the chance to.
It leaned, stretched its back, and picked at a bit of bloody flesh under one of its claws. The night was quiet and it was full. A baby’s soft cry, an innocent plea, came from behind the bedroom door the man had left ajar. The thing nudged it open and slipped inside like a thief.
~ ~ ~
(Stories Around the Fire is a short fiction series about horror, sci-fi, and the bizarre. If you liked my work and want to throw me some bones, you can find more here.)
