#folklore verse

[thatrudeengineer]

Blog Assets (3/?): In Bird's Clothing (Folklore Verse)

[you-dropped-your-forgiveness]

Let it be a fairy tale, then...

Prologue

Many years ago…

Once Upon A Time… it was just the forest and it’s trees. Most parts were pleasant and often times beautiful. That is the way it remained for a very long time. The inhabitants flourished and the little towns  spread throughout thrived. But like all things, it could not sustain forever. Soon darkness crept in, the bright places turned black, and that’s when the monsters came.

Hannibal was woken up with a start. It was his mother in her pale green nightgown, it flowed and glowed behind her like a shooting star. His mother knelt by his bed and said not a word, she only held a finger to her curved lips. He knew what it meant, Hannibal didn’t need to ask questions. Carefully, and as quiet as a mouse he pulled the covers back and climbed out of his bed.

“Hurry, my love.  We must fetch your sister.” His mother’s voice was like a tinkling of bells, barely audible in the wind. At that, Hannibal took her hand, and they fled swiftly down the corridor outside his room. Just down the hall was where his baby sister slept, she was never very far from him.

Often he would sneak out of bed, and go to his sister's room. There he would tell her bedtime stories in the dark to keep the nightmares at bay. He knew that she was too young yet to have nightmares, but sometimes it helped with those that haunted him. She was his charge, and he took his job very seriously. The day Mischa was born, he promised their mother he would always look out for his sister.

58, 59, 60. It took 60 quick steps to reach the nursery. He counted in his head, he often would count how many steps it took to reach a certain point in the castle. But this number was the most important to him. Making little to no sound the two slipped into Mischa’s room. Their mother hurried to her baby’s bedside and gently picked the child up. “Her blanket, Hannibal.” she pointed and he was already there holding up a square of cloth. Like a limp doll, Mischa dozed in their mother’s arms; her one tiny arm hung askew and pliable.

A glint of silver in the moonlight caught Hannibal’s eye, and he smiled. Mischa wore a tiny baby bracelet and if you tried to take it from her she would fuss. She went every where with the jewelry, it had been given to her by their father the king. “Where is father?” He asked his is soft voice.

Read more here Let it be a fairy tale, then...

Welp, here is the Prologue to my new fan fiction. It’s going to be set in a horror fairy tale verse. It’s a semi crossover with the book They Mostly Come Out At Night by Benedict Patrick