Showing posts with label Mythological Creature. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Mythological Creature. Show all posts
Xindhi
The shadow walked back and forth beneath Jak's door. The thing was going to try to eat him again. His parents wouldn't believe him that the creature visited his room at night. But tonight he would prove it..
With a creak, the door opened and Jak buried himself deeper into the pile of stuffed animals in the corner of the room. Most of them had been chewed up by his dog but that was okay, it would hid his smell.
His nightlight flickered and the door clicked shut. The creature looked like a shadow against the door but he couldn't forget that ugly mug after it and shoved its pointy teeth in his face and threatened to eat him.
"Bobby?" The creature said in a sniveling voice. "I've come for a snack Bobby, come on Bobby, be nice."
Jak gripped the baseball bat hard beneath the pile of stuffies. His name wasn't freaking Bobby.
"BOB-EEEEE. I'm hungry," the creature said, and pounced onto his bed. It found nothing but a pile of pillows and it screeched in anger and ripped and shredded them with its long claws.
Jak jumped from his hiding place and the creature swung towards him.
It was too late, the bat was already in motion. It struck the elf-creature with all the force an eight year old could muster and sent the creature flying across the bed, hitting his floor with a loud thump.
"Jak?" his mother called, and pushed open his door. "You're suppose to be sleeping."
"Mom! I caught it!" Jak cried as light flooded his room.
"Oh my god, what the hell is that?" His mother said, and called for his father. "Henry! Henry, come here, hurry!"
Jak let his bat drop to his side and he stared over at the black skinned, pointy eared creature.
"Gottcha."
Qutrub
He touched the stones as he wandered through the graveyard. Tapping this one, caressing the next.Inhaling deeply, he held the musty scent of earth and decay deep in his lungs before letting it out.
Delicious.
Had his brothers started without him?
Hunger rumbled deep inside him and he weaved through the headstones, mist swirling around his feet.
The moon hung high in the sky, playing peek-a-boo behind dark clouds, lighting their edges. There was a time when it had been difficult to find food; to eat without drawing attention to oneself.
But now? The world overflowed with people, with the dead. If his kind didn't eat them eventually the humans would run out of places to put the bodies.
Far back against the fence and the tree line, a small lantern glowed in the night.
"The graveyard keeper has already been taken care of," a voice said from the darkness.
"By taken care of, you mean...?"
"Sleeping, of course," the voice said.
"Of course," he said.
The voice guided him to a grave, not new but not insipidly old. Two of his brothers poked their head up from the hole and grinned, tossing dirt aside.
The third sibling, the voice, materialized out of the darkness, his grin stretched his face. "Brother, you're just in time for dinner."
Holly King
The sun shone bright and he moved through the forest, hunched over feeling old and worn. The snow had melted, leaving piles of slush and water behind. Animals that usually hibernated for the winter began to reemerge. He pulled at the piece of holly tangled in his hair and the last withered berry dropped to the ground.His beard was thick and grey and he tugged at it absently as he followed the pa
th through the forest.
Winter was over.
He'd come soon. Tall, strong and arrogant.
The cycle between them was never ending, tedious. But with each passing Winter as Spring approached something changed within him. Something fundamental. Winter ended but power continued to build within him.
A horn sounded in the distance and he froze. His stags bounced through the woods, crossing his path and disappeared. Hunching lower to the ground, he clenched the long staff and rapped it against the ground. The start of a low, sharp beat that the forest picked up and echoed on the wind.
He entered the clearing just as the dark form of his adversary stepped out into the light. The man was youthful; with a head of brown hair and large stag horn arching from his forehead.
It didn't matter, this year, the Holly King was staying.
Bubak
That's
how he preferred it.
All
that was needed was one last piece, one final soul to finish the
work.
“Come
on, it's over here.”
He
froze at the sound of voices and the dark place within him danced
with glee. He stuffed the Soul Garment into a chest at the foot of
his post and scurried back up it. Hanging himself across the large
t-shaped piece of wood and stared across the field, searching.
“Where
the hell is this thing?”
“Old
Man McCormack put the Scarecrow in the center of the field, look, you
can see the light from it's Jack-o-lantern head.”
“Damn,
that things creepy.”
Perfect,
they would make excellent additions to his coat.
The ground surrounding him hummed with vibrations. Within his deep sleep he felt the shift of the earth, heard the soft murmur of voices come to gawk at his grave. The thorn tree had grown monstrous; the root that pierced his chest, and pinned him in place had tripled in width and continually grew. With each passing year his longevity stretched out before him, taunting him. In the early days, people feared coming to his burial site, but as time went on. And it went on, more and more people came.
The
voices grew until he heard them echo through the roots of the
tree. Feminine laughter. The sound was sweet at first. Then soured and
churned within him, reminding him of the laughter of another woman; one long buried.
Like
him, but dead.
Above
the voices changed. Laughter turned distressed as deeper, cruder ones
joined. The earth shook with a thump, followed by a broken scream.
A long forgotten pungent smell washed over him, and he groaned as the blood
soaked into the soil, bleeding into the earth until it finally touched his
lips. Power rushed through him and the tree pinning him to the
ground shook and splintered.