Today marks the tenth year since the day of his hatching. The same day the humans found him. Ten years, he had lived in a building with other misfit creatures like himself; sirens, wolves, vampires--all children, all broken. Scattered to the whims of human desires, treated like vermin while being used as tools. No magic, but sheer number and willpower, and these creatures called humans had more power than any of them put together.Â
Day in, day out. Thaddeus and his kin were awake at the crack of dawn to complete whatever tasks were needed, and Thaddeus had a real knack for finding treasure. It was second nature for him. His instincts could sense out precious metals and stones, and he had eyes that were eager to spot things that sparkled, and he was ruthless to boot. His abilities were coveted for different tasks, and it wasnât long before other children began to fear him too. Hate him. But Thaddeus also had the vaguest sense that this place was masked, had the front of an orphanage; all for the purpose that other good, honest working humans wouldnât suspect that the creatures living inside werenât creatures at all, but simply lost little humans with tired eyes and ashen skin waiting for a loving family to go home to. As if Thaddeus understood what any of that meant. But sometimes, he would see a human man and woman come inside, sit at a table with a girl or a boy close to his age, and then they would go on their way. Interview, after interview, and these humans couldnât tell one cryptid child from their own human kind? What a mess. The children were never meant to be adopted. Then, one day came where Thaddeus was brought to a table, where he himself would interview the human âmotherâ and human âfatherâ--at least, thatâs what their roles would be. âDonât you have vibrant red hair, boy,â said the man, words muffled by a copper pipe held between his lips. âI expect you would be good with table manners. Fetching the newspaper. Doing anything else we think to ask of you, really,â said the woman, who wore her hair in such a tight bun that it pulled her eyebrows well towards the middle of her forehead. âYes sir. Yes maâam,â said Thaddeus, who had grown so accustomed to being spoken to like a dog that he began to act like one. Heâd wag his tail obediently if he had one. âJust look at that, not a single hesitation to him,â said the man. âBut heâs so skinny...â said the woman. âAre they feeding you well?â Thaddeus wasnât sure if this was a trick question or not. He began to glance around, and he could see the eyes of his fellow rejected children boring into him. âWell, we canât be feeding you too much. Enough to not be weak, sure, but thatâs it. Youâd be eating us out of house and home if you began to expect more than what you earned!â the woman sniffed. Thaddeus began to shake. He felt cold. âCan ya do anything to make yourself useful?â Thaddeus began to respond--he could be really useful! At this rate, heâd be out of here. No more ugly jobs. Just menial house tasks. A delicious freedom, if Thaddeus ever knew there was one.But all those quiet hopes were shattered when one of the ushers came around to the table. A man who was there the day Thaddeus hatched. A man who knew exactly how useful Thaddeus could be. âFolks, I donât mean to interrupt,â he greeted, while eyeing Thaddeus. Thaddeus buckled under his gaze.Â
âBut this here boy is having his birthday today. I thought it would be a special treat to go easy on him, you know what I mean? All our kids are special, you see, just for what they can do, but Thaddeus here is a special kid. Weâd sure miss having him around.â Thaddeus could feel his heart sink--plummet, like a stone. The full pupils of his dark red eyes began to shrink into slits. And he began to feel cold. âWell, it certainly got chilly suddenly, didnât it?â said the woman. Thaddeus stood up suddenly, and his caretaker was ready with a cane, which was brought down heavily onto Thaddeusâs shoulder the same instant. âStay down, boy! You donât stand until youâre told!â he shouted, and Thaddeus dropped back down into his chair. âDear me,â the man said, beginning to stand himself, and his woman counterpart did the same. âI donât know what establishment youâre running here, but I think weâll be retracting our offer.â He said, adjusting his overcoat with a stiff motion. A soft click was heard on the floor, and Thaddeus watched an object fall, sliding beneath the chair the man was in. Nobody else seemed to notice. The man and woman left.âThaddeus, you awful shit. Whyâd you waste those nice folksâ time like that? You ainât going nowhere, you understand? Get comfy in that chair, you little fuck up. I ainât letting you get up until your lesson is good and learnt.â And so Thaddeus stayed put, watching his comrades filter out, and the barely visible light outside slowly shrunk from a hazy white into a deep blue. And Thaddeus still felt cold. From his spot in the chair, the air around him grew chilly--more than earlier. One caretaker told him to knock that shit off, and smacked at his face with a cane again, before leaving Thaddeus to his devices once more. So, cold wouldnât help him. They knew cold, almost as well as Thaddeus did. But as it began to get darker outside, Thaddeus ventured away from the chair. Stretch his legs, at least. He looked around near the table he was seated at first. Then, the chair. Bending down to reach beneath, Thaddeus found a tinderbox. The man with the pipe must have dropped it. Thaddeus looked around.The open room offered no noise or movement in return, and a plan slowly began to form in his head.With fleeting but quiet steps, Thaddeus ventured into the corridor. Footsteps echoed in the blackness ahead, and Thaddeus ducked down behind a trophy case as he watched one of the caretakers stumbling into view. He emptied a flask, and with a hiccup and a groan, staggered into a chair in the previous lounge. Thaddeus quickly moved from his hiding place, sneaking further along until he reached his destination: the kitchen. Working quickly, Thaddeus ripped a gas line from behind the stove with moderate ease of his own strength. He struck a match to the bottom of his bare foot, and backed away from the visible line of gas before dropping the open flame into it. Instantly, the gas caught fire, shooting hot air back through the mechanism and into the walls of the building. Thaddeus covered his head, but listened as the flames and hot gas expanded into the vents, channeled easily into the other rooms. Thaddeus heard the multiple octaves of screaming voices, like a choir, as the flames coated the walls, lighting up from the kitchen and down the corridor like a subway tunnel.  Followed soon after the sounds would be the smell of char. Seared asbestos in the walls and lead in the paint, all getting engulfed in heat. Thaddeus began to back out of the kitchen, taking the back door outside, taking slow steps into the snow and cold air coming off the distant lake. The glow from the burning building was the only source of light. He couldnât hear the screams anymore, but the roar of flames would be the only accompaniment to the soft howl of the wind. And it began to snow. Walking further out into the night, Thaddeus held his hands out, feeling the snow flakes freeze against his open palms, like little seeds that grew into flowers of frost. Thaddeus took a look at the tiny creation, feeling it growing colder within him, and he was smiling. He could grow more flowers. More frost erupted from his hands. The clouds churned overhead, as if welcoming Thaddeus home. He could make it snow more, and he did. The orphanage would no longer exist, burning to nothing, with everyone inside of it. The heat would soon disappear from Thaddeusâs back too, as he walked further away, with no desire left within himself to look back. He didnât have to. It was snowing.Â
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