There are many tales in the world about gods and goddesses, about creatures and heroes and, of course, about monsters. But what about the ordinary people? They, too, have many tales, perhaps more than all of the others put together, but amongst them are some of the most vicious of monsters.
After all, if you choose to act a certain way than it could be said to be far more true than something acting a certain because they were born to do so.
There are things in this world, monsters and creatures and beings that could be called gods. They are not true Gods as they are far from immortal and even if they are close enough to that you must be capable of Life Creation in order to be a True God. But that is not the focus of our story.
Our story is about what stands between those things that are believed to be myths. For though we consider these things to be nothing more than figments of our ancestors imaginations or their poor attempts at understanding the world around us. What we don’t realize, what we seem to forget is that they do exist. Maybe not in the way that the stories say, but you know what’s always bandied about by the press.
There’s a kernel of truth in every lie.
Between those ‘myths’ and the rest of the population are hunters. They come in every shape and size and they don’t always work together. They use different tools and have different reasons for why they do what they do, just like anyone else in law enforcement. The difference is whether or not they are actively working with said law enforcement or working vigilante style. But, again, this isn’t completely what our story is about. Our story is really about one instance in particular between hunters and those ‘creatures’ they fight.
This is where our story begins:
There once was a little girl who wasn’t quite a little girl. She was little, yes, and she was female, yes, but she wasn’t what you think of when you think of the words ‘little girl.’ She is, in fact, only half-human.
Her mother is a ‘creature’ that hunters fight and kill should they ever come across her. Her kind are not always dangerous to humankind, but when they are it’s like Mt. Vesuvius erupting all over again for the first time. There weren’t many of her left known to mankind. This didn’t matter too much as she isn’t a main character in this story. This story, as I said, is about a little girl, not the little girl’s mother.
At one point during the day, the little girl, who we shall call Molly, was taken from her backyard. Her mother had been in the house working on dinner and had heard Molly’s short scream, but both Molly and her abductor were gone before she could reach the backdoor. Molly’s mother didn’t scream and she didn’t cry. She moved as quickly towards the phone on the counter to call the police before stopping and letting it drop limply to her lap.
She wasn’t even certain the police would be able to help, but she took a breath and reached for the phone once again anyway.
We’ll leave Molly’s mother there, in her kitchen, with a phone in one hand and the other clutched tightly to the armrest of her chair, knuckles white.
Molly, on the other hand, was sitting quietly in a chair with her own hands pulled tightly behind her back. Her shoulders were strained, but not enough to be too debilitating. Her captors must know what would happen should she become overly frightened or angry. She was frightened, but not angry and without the extra oomph that the volatile emotion would give her, her half-blood status made her vulnerable and unable to tap into what birthright her mother’s kind had granted her.
“What are we going to do with a half-breed? They’re practically useless unless they really believe in what they’re fighting for. There’s no time to condition her to what we want either, she’s too old.”
“What do you mean she’s too old? Look at her! She can’t be more than six years old! There’s still plenty-”
“You are a fool if you think the age she looks like is her actual age.”
The voices moved away from her door and she was tired and hungry and thirsty and wanted her mother. Another voice spoke up from slightly behind her.
“Don’t worry kid, we’ll get out of this.”
Molly turned her head as far around as she could and saw a man tied up to a pole stuck int he concrete ground slightly behind and to her left. She didn’t know who he was, but it was clear that he had taken at least one beating recently. What little of her birthright she could access like this told her that he was trustworthy.
“How do you know, mister?” she asked, her voice shaky.
He tried to smile at her, but failed in looking cheerful even if his eyes were full of faith.
“I’ve got people who’re coming for me. We won’t leave you behind.”
She nodded in response but didn’t say anything as the two voices came back and entered the room.
“I should think that they won’t leave you behind,” one sneered, obviously having caught the end of their little talk. “I should think that they’d do to you what they’re planning to do to us once the ‘back-up’ actually arrives.”
“If they ever do arrive.”
The man behind her was silent, but the scent that wafted off of their captors told her all she needed to know.
“I wouldn’t mind.” she stated simply.
There was a beat of silence as those in the room blinked. She had startled them; the creatures that had captured her hadn’t thought that anyone of their ilk would ever welcome a hunter in their presence, never mind being fine with being killed by them. Her fellow captive had stilled; he hadn’t expected her to be anything other than human, but he, too, was slightly startled with her calm acceptance of death at such a young-seeming age.
For she was young, maybe not as young in human years as she looked, but for her kind she was still very young.
“Mother always told me to seek out a hunter if I needed to be safe.”
“They would not keep one like you safe.”
Molly smiled, “But they would make sure that the real monsters who would come after me would never fully get me. I would be safe in Death’s arms.”
“Monsters like us, you mean.” one spat, looking angry.
“No,” Molly smiled as serenely as she could, “Monsters like the human who sired me.”
“Not even a crossroads demon can bring back an extinguished phoenix, my child.” her mother whispered.
Written for this prompt: http://writingworksinprogress.wordpress.com/2013/10/21/all-hallows-eve-writing-challenge/
This was a great prompt! Thank you bluebutterfliesandme for inviting me to take part!
Here are links to other participants: