Fae Folken

NOTE: This is a work in progress. I would like to develope this piece into a novel. Any input, suggestions, or reviews would be greatly appreciated. Thanks!


Part One: The Broken Looking Glass


In this time of mundane life there is a lack of magic, a lack of imagination. The people of today don't believe in magic, not any more. Even the faintest glimmer of hope is lost in the cacophony of despair and hate. Every great while though, there is something. Just enough to hang on to. This new world is in terrible danger. This danger will one day swallow the entire world, it's love, it's hope, and it's magic.

The Old World was different. In the Old World Faerie kind was said to be the only kind, but of course that's nonsense. Who could imagine into being if not for the Mundane's? So of course there were the children of Eve. The Fae of the Old World were numerous beyond counting, for everything was Fae. The trees that grew, sun that shone, even the wind, all were Fae of one kind or another. After the son's and daughter's of Eve grew to so many there were new things. New creatures.

There were the mighty and loyal Trolls. There were playful Pooka. Even Vampyr came about in those times, though that is a matter of opinion to some. The Fae of those times were so varied that it is said they were anything they chose to be. Those were the glorious times, the times of magic.

No one can tell you when or why but suddenly those times ceased. The Sidhe are said to have always been the most bureaucratic of all Fae even their records do not stretch so far, though they might disagree. Of all the opinions, legends, stories, fables, or whatever else there may be, one thing is agreed upon. The Gates to the Faerie world were closed forever. Some decided it was best to stay behind, but they were warned, they could never rejoin their kind again. They were sealed forever in the mundane world.

The Mundane's, as the Fae like to call mortals, have forgotten about those magical times. It seem as well, so have the Fae....



Part Two: A Branded Beast


The young man ran as fast as his legs could carry him. Fear giving him strength like never before. Tears streamed down his cheeks onto his shirt. The only thing pounding harder than his heart was his feet. He couldn't even manage a scream for help. Terror had taken his voice. The inadequate light from the lamp post didn't reveal the protruding concrete in time. The boy stumbled and fell to his hands and knees, the pain managed to break the spell.

"HELP! Please somebody help!" he screamed. It was only after he realized what he had done. They heard, and they were coming.

His hands bled freely. He paid no mind as he lifted himself back to his feet and ran. The woods seemed like the logical place to go. He turned away, heading towards the alley behind his house. He ran until his lungs were on fire, and then he ran some more. Those things would catch up soon. They would do to him what they had done to his parents.

They were only his foster parents but he still loved them. His real parent were killed in a train accident when he was still an infant, and now his foster parents were dead. Murdered. The mess, that awful mess, was still fresh in his mind. Those twisted ugly faces too. There was blood everywhere, it covered the walls and furniture. It covered the shaggy white carpet, like red paint in snow. He began to whimper. Shut up, he told himself, you're not a baby!

He saw his avenue of escape. The old house had been there for years, long before he was born. Now it was empty. A ramshackle old building, not even big enough for a family. The boy ducked under the barely attached door. He found a corner, curled up, and cried quietly to himself.

There was a sound outside. Footsteps on the dewy grass. The young man forced himself to stop crying and sat stark still. A bony frame of a shadow appeared on the floor, silently reaching for him. His body went rigid with fear. It was those things, they found him. They smelled strongly of rotten meat and moldy leather. One of them went around the back cutting off his escape, the other approaching the broken window nearest to him.

"Come out Trevin...we won't hurt you. I just wanna' play thats all. Yeah...I just wanna' play," his voice was cold and sinister.

The things homely face was silhouetted on the floor right in front of where Trevin huddled. He could almost feel the things evil touch, his hands covered in blood. His parents blood. Trevin let out a tiny whimper.

"I can smell you boy. I can smell your fear. Just come out and I won't even hurt you," the thing's calm voice made Trevin shudder. "Get out here you little shit. If I gotta' come in there I'm gonna' rip your hide off and make you eat it!" He knew that voice, but from where?

The second creature slipped open the back door, silently entering. It's leathery feet made no sound as it crept along the opposite side of the wall Trevin leaned against loose floor boards moaning under his weight. Trevin jumped up to run but the first creature was close enough to snag his shirt. The boy tumbled to the dusty floor. Before he could stood the other thing was on top of him. The scent of blood wafted from the creature. Trevin squirmed, trying to free himself of it's iron grip. His heart pounded uncontrollably, his chest ached from the strain. The first thing ripped the door off its single hinge, and walked in smugly.

A bright red drop of liquid smacked Trevin right in the middle of his forehead. Blood. More blood began to dribble down the things face. It had dipped it's stocking cap in blood. The image of this disgusting thing touching his parents sent him into another fit of enraged flailing and kicking. The creature was incredibly strong for being so wiry. Thick, rough skin scratched his wrists, leaving big red marks.

"Well, that was fun...so what do we do now?" the smaller creature asked. The larger one approached slowly, dragging out the torturous wait. Trevin continued to squirm, he tried to scream through the filthy hand clamped over his mouth but it came out as a muffled whine.
He bit hard enough to draw blood. The creature just smiled at him. "Awww, he bit me. Cute."

The foul liquid dripped into his mouth, it tasted like burnt motor oil. The blood stirred something in him. Something long dormant, waiting to burst from it's cage. He felt a change deep inside himself. Something wild loosed itself from within him. The change took him before he knew what happened.

"What! What the.." the smaller things voice cut off as Trevin's razor teeth cut into his throat. Trevin's body stretched and contorted into something other than human, something ferrol. He now stood double his previous size. Lean muscle stretched over his once spindly body. The thick fur that covered his body was matted with blood. The second creature watched only long enough to see his partner ripped to shreds. His feet pounded down the empty sidewalk. He made it nearly half a block before Trevin caught up.

Trevin toyed with him, taking his time. He slashed and tore the thing. He was lost in the blood lust, enjoying the gore and screams. It lasted only moments, but it felt like hours to Trevin. When he was through he couldn't stand the sight. Gore was strewn across nearly the entire street. The sight made him sick. That awful look on it's face, that was what his parents looked like when they died. Terror.

He couldn't stand the sight of the mangled body any longer. He ran. He ran all night, until he found a quiet place in the woods and slept.


Part Three: Coming Home


Trevin wandered for days until the police picked him up. The man was nice. Fifty something. He reminded Trevin of his grandfather, though he was dead too. He was in a daze, still frightened that there was another one of those things. Frightened he would change again. He didn't say much of anything, so the policeman started the conversation. "We thought you got hurt back there. You didn't did you? You got a lotta' blood on ya'. You look like you got hurt."

"No. I'm not hurt." there was no emotion in his voice.

"You don't have to be scared. You can tell me if you're hurt, okay? My names Tim by the way. I know yours," there was a nervous silence. "So...can you remember what happened that night Trevin. Anything at all?"

The patrol car slowed a halt outside the police station. Trevin was silent, he didn't want to think about what he remembered. The kind old man helped him to the waiting room. He only sat there for a few minutes before he was taken to the infirmary. They checked him head to toe. "Nothing wrong, not even a scratch. He's just fine," nurse said, giving him a gentle pat on the head.
After the infirmary he was taken to a small white room. An interrogation room. The man there wasn't as nice as Tim. He asked question after question, never satisfied with the answer Trevin gave him. Finally after hours of questions Trevin was let go. They took him to yet another room where he sat holding his untouched cocoa.

It was nearly two hours later that a gentle sounding woman stepped into the room. By then he had decided to go ahead and drink the cocoa, even though it was cold. "Trevin?" he nodded, "Hi, my name is Teresa. I'm going to take you to a place called Brook Haven. It's a place full of boys and girls like you, who don't have their mommies and daddies to take care of them."

"You mean an orphanage, right?" he said coldly.

"No, it's not an orphanage. You'll like it there, I promise. You'll have friends, there are lots of kids your age." she tried to sound enthusiastic, to Trevin it sounded like desperation.



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The long drive to Brook Haven was filled with uncomfortable silence. Teresa had tried to strike up conversation but was met with stubborn resistance. The place seemed pleasant enough. It was more of a ranch than an orphanage. Weeping willows dotted the large fields, the rest was open and inviting. The outer perimeter was lined with lush trees, their leaves red with autumn tint. He liked the place already, but wouldn't admit as much to Teresa.

He saw several children. Running in circles, playing tag in the closest field. A few more older kids were lounging around the weeping willows. They looked to about his age, twelve or so.

Several buildings stood out amid the rural landscape. Large white houses, three and four stories tall. Those were the dorm's Trevin guessed. "You'll be in that one,"she pointed to one of the four story buildings, "Thats the boys dorm, for kids in your age group. There's a lot of good here Trevin, you'll see. I think you might just find you like it here."

"I would like it better at home," he said flatly.

"This is your home Trevin. Just give it a chance, okay?"

The sedan pulled into the gravel drive, slowing to a gentle stop. Trevin let himself out, grabbing his bag of clothes as he did. There was an older man sitting on the porch. He looked to be in his seventies, grey hair , wire frame glasses, and an old natural wood cane. As Teresa got out of the car the old man rose slowly. " Hey there, looks like we got a new one," he didn't sound all that old, his voice betrayed a kind vibrance. There was a kind strange quality that Trevin couldn't quite place. Not so much as there was something odd about the man, more like a feeling to him that Trevin didn't quite understand or see. The man came up to Trevin holding his cane in one hand and his other extended. He took the hand and shook. With a wink the old man said," So, your name is Trevin, good strong name. My name is Benjamin, call me Ben. Well I suppose I'll show you your room, that is unless you want to sleep outside. Come on."

Ben gave Teresa a wave as he walked Trevin towards the building she had pointed at. It felt strange to think he wouldn't be sleeping in his old room, that he wouldn't ever be back home again. This was his new home, his new life.