Anne Croxley

New to the writing scene, need somewhere to put things. Idea. Blog. Perfect.

[writerfromsomeboringplanet-blog]

Kip, the Unlikely Hero

The line between bravery and stupidity is so thin that you don't know you've crossed it until you're dead. And so begins the tale of Kip, the village idiot who would become the greatest and most unlikely hero the world has ever seen.

Kip wasn’t a very smart man, nor was he handsome or particularly strong, even his luck was pretty rotten. In fact, the only good thing about Kip was that he could make people laugh, at his misfortune. His scrawny appearance made him look like a scarecrow, and that’s exactly what he was paid to do! For 8 hours a day, Kip would stand in the village cornfields and scare away any birds that might think themselves lucky to find a meal. He had plenty of time to think while standing there, and that usually got him into trouble later down the line.

On one particular afternoon, the sun was scorching hot. Feeling a little thirsty and tired from the heat, Kip decided to take the afternoon off and went to the lake for a swim. The lake was an enormous black round mirror reflecting the woodlands enclosing it. Not a single villager or creature was present. Thinking nothing of the strange disappearance of all life, Kip took a dive into the cool black water. This was wonderful!

When Kip left to go back to work, he noticed it was already night. Surely he couldn’t have been here for more than an hour? He must have just lost track of time. Walking past the cornfields on his way home a rustling noise caught his attention. Someone must be trying to steal the corn! Off he ran into the cornfields, he knew this maze like the back of his left hand! Or was it his right? Either way, he wasn’t going to let this petty criminal get the best of him. Kip ran straight to his perch in the middle of the field and scurried his way up. He scanned the farm for any sign of the assailant. Over there, just in front of Old Man  Wyatt’s porch! Blinded by the adrenaline Kip sprung on the hooded figure and was instantly knocked out by the stranger’s counter.

When Kip came to, he was tied to a wooden stick by his hands and feet above a burning fire. Not sensing the danger, and being too stupid to think anyone would want to harm him, Kip thought he was in a spa. Closing his eyes really hard, he enjoyed himself, being gently warmed and pampered by weird dwarves in silly armoured costumes. The weird dwarves turned him around so that he would be properly toasty on all sides, how thoughtful of them.

After about an hour of roasting the living scarecrow, the dwarves started mumbling to one another, something about how he wasn’t cooking, why wasn’t he cooking? They took Kip off from the fire and prodded him, he was still cold! This scarecrow must have come to life to punish the dwarves for what they’ve done to the village. Weary of the immortal guardian, the dwarves called for their paragon. Hamish and his axe came to survey the issue. Walking around the Scarecrow Guardian a few times, Hamish turned to his axe and spoke in hushed whispers. The axe must have replied because Hamish suddenly looked terrified. “Excuse me, but could I get a hot towel? The ground is rather cold.” Baffled by their captive’s calm appearance, the dwarves slowly backed away, thinking of him as a great threat.

Kip was annoyed, surely a spa would have treated their guests with more importance than this? Kip stood up and brushed off the leaves and dirt from his trousers. The dwarves ran off into the woods, some screaming as they went. Only the bigger dwarf was standing there, he must be the one in charge. “I have a few complaints,” Kip started as he approached the dwarf, “I’d like to know with whom I can share these concerns.” The dwarf’s face turned pale white, he dropped his axe and followed after his men, squealing even more than what they did. Kip picked up the axe to give back to the dwarf, but he was long gone.

A voice came from the darkness, “Finally, someone who will listen to me.” Kip swung around looking for the source of the mysterious voice.

“Down here you idiot, I’m the axe you just picked up. My name is Helena by the way.”

Baffled by the talking axe, Kip stared at Helena, waiting for her to speak again.

“Quit gawking at me and follow the path on your right, your people can still be saved.”

Still gobsmacked, Kip nodded silently and did as Helena asked.

They came to a large wooden cage, filled with all the people from the village. Kip took his axe and broke open the bars keeping everyone in. He was greeted with applause and affection. Kip was named the Hero of the Village and Champion of the Dwarves, he was indeed the most unlikely Hero.

[writerfromsomeboringplanet-blog]

The Alp-Luachra

Hunger. That’s all he felt. An unending hunger that stabbed his stomach with a thousand knives, threatening to never end. And yet he ate food in abundance, a month’s supply gone in a few days. Juicy meat, yes, that’s what he wanted. Juicy meat still oozing red. He found himself pondering the taste of human flesh, surely it would sate his hunger. He stopped outside the house of an old man with no relatives. Being kind and trusting, the old man let him in. Two hours later he emerged, mouth covered in blood and stomach still not full. He returned home and thought about asking the local dairy lady out on a date, he’d like to give her a taste.

Rumors had spread in the Upper District of a disease spreading through the slums. The hunger consumed them, drove them to madness. And it was the madness that was truly terrifying. Having no money to buy more food, they turned to cannibalism, neighbour preying on neighbour, law officers turning on the people they served. There was no order, it was primal rage and chaos which ruled over the people now. The king had to act swiftly, he ordered the lower half of the city to be closed off, no entry and no exit until this plague was contained. He would not have such madness spread to the rest of his people. Days passed and the groaning could still be heard late at night, screams of terror filled the air. Guards stood on duty stopping all visitors from entering, even farmers returning home after a month's long journey. These family members gathered in the town square and waited, most accepted that they would never see their wives or children again and left, but a handful remained hopeful.

One such hopeful by the name of Claude had had enough of this. The guards wouldn’t let him see his family, nor would they tell them what had happened. He could hear the piercing cries at night, it only made him more curious, and more afraid. On an evening when the sky was cloudy and not even moonlight shone down on the pebbled streets, Claude snuck out the encampment. Through sleeping guards and food crates, he crept, careful not to wake even a mouse. He found a foothold on the closed gates and started to climb, slowly but surely he made it to the top and over. Now in the slums themselves, he started walking towards his home, familiar with the way he found himself in front of his door in no time. Once inside his face dropped, mother and daughter lay side by side, barely recognisable. The hair on their heads was snow white and their mouths covered in gore, both were missing a few limbs. Claude closed their eyes and made his way through the rest of the house, books were scattered around the rooms with bite marks and candles lay about with missing chunks. Had they really been that hungry? Claude stopped in his tracks. There was a sloppy munching sound close by, Claude followed the sound to the kitchen. Bent over a heap of gore on the ground was a hunched figure, no bigger than a child. The clouds outside parted and the moonlight shone on the creature, his nails were black and his clothes stained dark red from all the blood and gore. An audible gasp escaped Claude’s mouth, the figure turned around. Dark brown curls framed big brown eyes and he immediately recognised his daughter’s best friend. Oh Annabelle, what had become of her? She studied the clean figure in front of her for a few moments then went back to eating her feast. Not wanting to bear the stench any longer Claude made his way back to the town square. Having made his way home without the moonlight, the streets appeared normal. But now he could truly see what had become of the people, bodies were piled up on the street corners, all with white hair and flaked skin. There were few whole bodies, many had been hacked and eaten. Most were covered with maggots. Claude ran back to the town square, not caring if he alerted anyone.

Unbeknownst to him, there were a few invisible creatures following close behind him. Fresh prey, surely they’ll lead us to more people and more food. As he climbed over the gate, the creatures spread, each to a new host. They entered through open mouths and took over the tongues, stealing people’s food as they ate.

[writerfromsomeboringplanet-blog]

The Azban

Curious by nature

A trickster at heart

He’ll laugh at misfortune

And swiftly depart

But he is not what you think

You’d think he’d a blackheart

You’d think he’d not care

Yet he actually does, a lot

I suppose he’d call himself clumsy

and perhaps down on luck.

But to others, it would seem

He’s just one nasty schmuck

He saw an old woman

He’d help her cross the road

But he tripped and pushed her over

And she fell in a dung load

A garden overgrown with weeds

Something ought to be done

So he got to work and pulled

Plucked out every single one

When a mother returned

She gasped and groaned

Her vegetables were gone

Each one overturned

No matter the deed

Each one was detested

His joy from their misfortune

Was all pretended

They’d scream and shout

Hate what he’d done

So now for each adversity

They curse, oh Azban!

[writerfromsomeboringplanet-blog]

The Afanc

Two brothers lay in their beds late one night with tears in their eyes, “But Momma, just one story more, then we’ll go to sleep, promise!”, the older of the two begged.

The younger echoed, “Promise Momma, just one more.”

Momma gave a sigh and resigned to her fate, “Oh alright, alright. I’ll tell yer one more story, but then that’s the last I want to hear from both of yer.”

The two boys sat straight up in excitement, all ears, leaning forward in anticipation.

“This is an old story I’ll be telling yer, one me Mum used to tell me when I was yer ages.”

They knew this was going to be a good story, all of Grandmomma’s stories were.

“If yer to go sneakin’ out late at night, be careful not to go swimmin’ in the lake, less the Afanc grab yer by the ankles and drag yer under!

Not too many moon years ago there were two siblings, best of friends the both of em. One night when the sky was clear and the Dizzards had stopped screechin’ their midnight songs, the two of them decided to go and explore the marshlands in the full moonlight. Over rocks and under branches they ran, oh these two loved to run! They were laughin’ and enjoyin’ the fresh air until the little brother saw a light in the distance. It was a beautiful light, unlike anythin’ he’d ever seen. It fluttered around the trees and danced over the marshy waters, creatin’ a magical display as it went. Closer and closer he moved towards the light, every step entranced by the beauty. Just one more step forward and he’d be able to touch it. His hand slowly reached out in front of him, fingers openin’ up to grasp it -

“Brother!”

Snapped out of the illusion, he suddenly found himself waist deep in the dark lake, the marshes were horribly quiet too, not even the sound of a cricket was heard. Terrified and alone he quickly turned around and began to swim to the shore, but not before a scaly claw grabbed him by the ankles and pulled him under.

The older sister was searchin’ and searchin’, but nowhere could she find her younger. She started toward the lake, maybe he’d been thirsty after all that runnin’. “Brother!” she called out, she could see the lake now. It was still, a perfect reflection of the night sky painted on its surface, next to the shore lay her brothers necklace, a wooden frog, given to him by their Momma, surely he must want it back. Maybe she’d go home and wait for her little brother there, surely he’d come back before dawn. The sister turned around and walked back home, behind her she could hear the lake bubble followed by the sound of the crickets.”

Momma stood up and fetched two blankets out of the cupboard, both boys were fast asleep next to the crackling fire. Not wanting to wake them, she gently tucked them both in and gently kissed their foreheads. “Goodnight my sweet boys.” She closed their bedroom door and prayed to the wooden frog around her neck before tucking it back into her shirt.

Outside in the marshes crickets sang and the lake stood still, reflecting the night sky. But underneath the lake’s water swam a creature, fouler than anything you could imagine. Not a mouse or a bird dared to drink from the lake, not even fish lived there, for in the center of Mirror Lake, was the lair of the Afanc.