Giant Problems

Basements—especially the unfinished ones—were my least favorite. You never knew what you were going to find down there. Unfinished ones were usually designated storage space. Sometimes you’d find weird things, like mannequins, or halloween decorations, or old machinery. Sometimes, there’d just be mounds and mounds of boxes.

Sometimes, you’d find the source of their problems.

The cause for their fear.

Basements were hotbeds for them.

Bugs. Continue reading “Giant Problems”

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Leading Ghost

Chill stings the back of my throat. A shudder rippling down to my toes. When the wind walks, it walks swiftly by, speaking in a whisper. An urgent, unavoidable whisper, and I know.

I must follow the ghost. Continue reading “Leading Ghost”

Understanding Ichabod

“Wasn’t he, like, a town guardian, or something?”

“What? No, he was a solider that got beheaded right?”

“I thought he was a demon.”

I rolled my eyes at the three of them. “First of all, he’s a legend. Second of all, he’s based on the Irish myth of the dullahan. In the story, he’s a soldier, but, the original idea came from the folklore. So, I guess he could be considered a demon? Some considered faerie creatures to be demons, so—”

“You’ll allow it?” Randy interjected.

I rolled my eyes at his devilish grin. “Yeah, I’ll allow it.”

The others chuckled as we made our way down the dark and spooky trail.

The trail that was more than myth, and more than legend.

The Trail fo Ichabod Crane. Continue reading “Understanding Ichabod”

Falling To Fate

“I don’t believe in fairytales,” he grumbled over the lip of his pint. Already drowning in the liquid, as this wasn’t his first drink.

Hell, it wasn’t even his second, or third.

It was his fifteenth.

I swear, that wolf can really put ’em away.

“I don’ believe in ’em, ya hear me?” He growled, his claws digging into the metal.

“Aye, I hear ya. Drink that up bud, and then be on your way. The hunters will be out soon.”

“Hrggh,” he grumbled.

But he did as he was told. Bless his tired, drunk soul.

Sitting up, he tipped his drink all the way back. Guzzling it like a pro, very little sloshing out the sides of his snout.

When it was gone, he slammed it down like any lad would, wiped his face-fur on his sleeve, threw a few coins down, saluted, and then stumbled his way out the door.

“Is he always like that?” the kid at the bar asked as the wolf tumbled into the night.

I shrugged. “Just when he stumbles across kids in red hoods.”

“What’s he mean, he don’t believe in fairytales?”

I shrugged. Pretended not to know. Then went about my business. Cleaning mugs, refilling drinks.

It was dishonest of me, sure, but.

It wasn’t really my place to tell the kid that the Big Bad Wolf doesn’t believe in himself.

Was it? Continue reading “Falling To Fate”

Fearful Friend

They had always warned me about the forest spirits. Some called them faeries, some simply called them spirits, and others refused to speak of them at all. But they lived in the forest, and no one doubted their existence.

They were real alright.

They were fearsome creatures. That’s what I’d always heard. They could tear you to pieces, mentally and physically, in the blink of an eye. They were not to be trifled with.

Not to be trusted.

But, I’ve always been a little hardheaded. A little stubborn.

So, of course, I went looking for one.

And I found one.

Oh, I found one.

At first, I thought it was wonderful—to be friends with a faerie.

But now?

…I’m not so sure.  Continue reading “Fearful Friend”

To Make A Champion

The night was dark and the wind was howling and the world itself was still. Silent for once. As if it were leaning in, curious. Waiting.

For me.

I would not be beat.

I refused.

Through the dark, I saw him coming with the wheel barrel. Pushing past the rocks in the hill, the bumps, the dead grass. Pushing past the graves and oaks that held hollow to these stones.

He pushed forward. Up the hill.

Him.

He was the key to all this. He didn’t know it yet, but he was. He was the one who would bring the victory. The cornerstone in my plan. The one who was going to cement my path. Take down my foes. He didn’t know it yet, but—

He was going to be my champion.

I will not be beat. Continue reading “To Make A Champion”

Monsters and Might

I remember the first night I saw them. The monsters. I remember thinking that they were massive. Strange. Fangs and claws and tusks and scales and fur and tails and spikes—

They were strange.

And deadly.

So very, very deadly.

Nobody dares to fight them now. Nobody. When the bravest of warriors became swallowed by them, that was when we stopped fighting them. Stopped trying to fight back. Instead, we tried to build walls. Fences. Gates. Anything, really, in a desperate bid to keep them out.

Not that it worked.

It never worked.

Not for very long, anyway. The creatures always seemed to find a way in.

Always found a way around our barricades. Our walls. Our protection.

The monsters always found a way. Continue reading “Monsters and Might”

Untrapped

Revenge is petty.

A waste of your time. A way to be consumed, to give your time and energy and life away to something that’s already stolen from you.

Idiotic.

Vengeance is not my goal. Not my ideal. What I do, I don’t do out of hate, or spite, or anger. Revenge is not my motivation.

I have more important things to do. Better motivations.

I have lives to move forward.

People to protect.

Them included. Continue reading “Untrapped”

Watcher Watcher

There is a creeping sensation that comes with the night. Lurking from the shadows. Looming above or beneath with no explanation. No information. Until, finally—

It pounces.

Not all nights are like this. Some are peaceful, restful. Some are full of dreams, full of sleep. It’s just the nights where one should look over the shoulder—nights in which the dark holds more than sleep.

Those are the nights to look after.

And, tonight…

It’s one of those nights. Continue reading “Watcher Watcher”

Hollow Masks

Masks.

A magical device meant to ward off evil. Send the unwanted away from your person. Hide yourself from the gaze of the undead. From the gaze of those that would hurt you. Masks, back in the first days of All Hallow’s Eve, were meant to keep you safe. Protect you from the unknowns of this world. From the evil that surely lurked in the shadows, that came out to play on this one night every year.

They were a magic like no other. A warding off of evil. A way to protect yourself.

Masks were a sanctuary that not even the dead could cross. A facade so believable, even the monsters are fooled.

A way to engulf yourself so fully that you’re never found.

I wonder why we think things have changed. Continue reading “Hollow Masks”