NO HAPPY ENDINGS A FANTASY STORY

“How do we kill this thief of faces?” Father Andrea turned to Marcus Baker. “Do we all grab a small knife like the one in your hand cause it would be ridiculous to do so.”

Mr. Willow’s face darkened, his eyes flashing with indignation. “Watch your tongue, Father! My son Marcus was the lone survivor of a war that claimed countless lives. His scars as you can see run deeper than any blade.”

“Wow”, Mr. Maverick’s voice cut through the tension. “As much as you praise your boy Willow we cannot allow this creature to roam our rice plantations. It must be killed tonight.”

Marcus’s laughter ensued sending shivers down the spines of those present. His eyes darted to his mother who averted her gaze, her secrets and shame etched on her face.

“Some of us are already damned,” he whispered, his voice resounding with a haunting melancholy.

“Right mother?”, he concealed the knife back in his boots.

A fleeting flashback beset Mrs. Willow, her mind conjuring the memory of a fateful night. She had sought out the self-proclaimed chief, a master of forbidden magic to ensure the downfall of her husband’s seductress. The chief’s words however still echoed in her mind: “Elehar the dancer will die as planned… but if the lady is innocent, Tyban will not return to the world of the dead.”

Mrs. Baker’s venomous tone cut through the silence. “She is not innocent! That harlot stole everything from me!”

The chief’s response was a chilling whisper: “So shall it be…”

His eyes then gleamed with an otherworldly glow as he spat a bloodied glob onto his palm.

“Place this on your forehead,” he instructed Mrs. Willow who complied, unaware that her sons had secretly followed her to the forbidden ritual.

“The truth was revealed that fateful night,” Marcus declared to the town elders. “My mother’s hands are stained with Elehar’s blood.”

The assembly gasped in unison, and I, a mere child of nine then, felt my heart racing with a mix of fear and confusion.

I recalled the dreaded tales of the creature that ravaged our rice plantations under the cover of darkness.

“You?” I stammered, my lips trembling. “You’re the reason Sean perished?”

Mrs. Willow’s predatory countenance met mine, “Your beauty, Aurora was the signal fire that drew the creature to us. You are the reason Tyban haunts us still. If it were up to me, I’d have you cast out into the plantation this instant.”

Her husband’s rebuke was swift and stern. “Silence, woman!” He sipped his green tea seemingly oblivious to the gravity of the situation, his focus fixed on the keg of brew.

Father Andrea then approached Marcus. “Explain yourself boy! What do you mean by we’ve killed it before?”

The latter’s sigh was heavy with the weight of his secrets. “Tyban wasn’t always our enemy”, he groaned. “It was once a creature we could appease with offerings but after Elehar’s death, it uncovered a taste for human blood – not just any blood but the blood of our village kin.”

“Explain yourself!” Mr. Maverick demanded, his confusion mirroring mine. “Are you saying you’ve been feeding this creature?”

Mrs. Willow collapsed to her knees, her eyes wild with fear. “Yes! We’ve been feeding it, and now it’s come for us all. This night may as well be our last!”

I sprang to my feet, determination coursing through my veins. “Not me! I won’t die for your sins. You all made your bed, now lie in it!”

Mr. Maverick grasped my hand, “I’m with the girl. It’s shameful that you Willows are a condescending brick of this town’s heritage yet you lack the impetus of common morals.”

Father Andrea’s face was a mask of warning. “Please don’t go”, he begged. “Let’s sort this out”,…..but instead we ignored him.

Flinging open the door and striding into the fading light, the cabin looked to me as a den of psychopaths. I, of course never wanted no part in it.

But as we walked, a figure emerged from the shadows. A little girl no more than ten wielding a massive stick laced with thorns. It was an impossible burden yet she danced with it, her movements eerie and graceful.

“Do I know you?” I asked taking a step back but she just smiled, her teeth stained with darker shades of brown.

“Of course you do,” she answered with malice.

Every dance move she made left her taller and thinner, her form blurring into something grotesque.

“Sir Maverick!” I turned to him however he was entranced, his eyes fixated on the girl.

He soon joined in the dance, his movements bizarre and animalistic as if drawn to her by some unseen force.

“You see something Aurora,” the girl cackled, her oily face glinting in the fading light. “No one from that cabin will escape alive.”

“Tyban!” I screamed, but it was too late.

The girl somersaulted landing the thorns in Maverick’s skull with a sickening crunch.

I fled, my heart in my mouth but before I could reach the cabin door, Father Andrea yanked me inside.

“Where is Sir Maverick?” he asked, his eyes scanning my face but I dare not speak. The horror was too fresh, too real.