In a heart-shaped box, my mother kept my baby teeth. It was something she had done to my older brother, sister, and myself. I was now looking at it, slightly disgusted and debating on if I should throw it out. But first...
I took a deep breath.
There were a ton of boxes. "Ugh," I sighed, to nobody. All these boxes were to head downstairs, with no elevator, into a small, compact car. I would have to make a few trips. It might be quicker if I trashed the boxes and their belongings and started from scratch.
"Do you need any help," a voice said from my doorway. I looked up. It was my mother. Her frail frame fit fully in the space the door provided, even if it was only a little bit open. "What's that you have in your hand?"
I felt bad for my mom. After I moved out, she would have nobody. My dad died seven years earlier - my brother moved out that same year, off to college, just like I was now. My sister met some guy on the internet and moved away when she turned 18. She barely kept in touch, but I didn't blame her. It came to light only a few years earlier, the year she moved out, that dad was abusing her. It really messed my mom up. I had no idea if my mom knew of the abuse or not, but she changed ever since the truth was revealed.
"Oh, uh, it's the teeth box," I said, ashamed that I was about to throw it away. "I found it with my stuff."
"Oh, my," she whispered, taking it from me. "This is my most valued possession. No matter where you kids go, I'll always have a piece of you with me."
I looked away, feeling bad that I was moving out. Leaving her here alone like this was pulling at my heartstrings. "Are you going to be okay here, by yourself?"
She looked up, tears forming in her eyes. "Don't leave. I don't -"
"I meant, do you want to...you know, go into a retirement home?" I felt instantly bad as soon as the words left my mouth. "The only reason I say that is because this house is old, and -"
"And I'm old, too?"
"..." Damn, I really messed up this time. Stupid me with my stupid words.
"I won't be lonely; I'll always have a piece of you with me."
I looked at the teeth box. It was turned upside down; she had spilled the teeth onto the floor.
"Mom?"
"Time to start a new collection."
She reached into my mouth and yanked. Blood spilled as I felt numerous teeth come loose from the gums.
The sound of men chewing filled the forest air. It was a disgruntled chewing as the food was cold. The party couldn't risk a fire being seen, so they ate their cold beans, stale bread, and unsensitized water out in the open on a cold forest floor.
"When do we attack," said a young freckle-faced boy, one of the squire knights. "By daybreak, correct?"
"Yes," said the Commander. "We're far ahead of the convoy. We'll rest up here tonight, and gather our strength. When we see the wagons come over the hill, we'll unleash Hell upon them."
The Bastard King's convoy had food and supplies for the enemy army. If this little squad of knights from the Rebellion could cut off the convoy, they could rather. They could win. They could overthrow the king. Fifteen men in total - two knights with spears, six with swords, a couple squires, the Commander, and the rest were archers. They could do this.
The freckle-faced boy, Thedius, took his sword out of his sheath and studied it. He never wanted to be a knight - in fact, he wanted to be a farmer like his granddad. But his father, the Commander, forced him to follow in his footsteps. He sighed. He could bet money, a lot of money, that his strawberry field had died by now.
One of the archers whirled around on his butt, drawing his bow and aiming an arrow at a rustling sound. The rest of the knights turned, and waited. Out of the shadows came a squirrel.
The men all exhaled, then looked at each other. 'Fresh meat' they all thought. The archer aimed his arrow once more, and...
"Stop!" Thedius whisper-shouted. "Can't cook the poor thing anyway. Besides, what if you break the arrow? You'll be down one." The archer shrugged and nodded. The rest of the group eyed the boy for a moment, and came to the realization that they didn't want to eat raw squirrel meat.
Thedius offered some of his beans to the squirrel on his spoon, which the squirrel gladly accepted.
"Well, don't go feeding it now," said the Commander. "You'll attract all the woodland creatures and they'll blow our cover."
"Go on now," said Thedius. "You've had your fill, get out of here." He shooed his squirrel friend away. The animal scampered off, hurrying back into the darkness.
"Let's get some sleep," said one the other knights. "The sooner we get this done, the sooner I get to go back home and have squirrel stew."
The lads slept. Well, they slept a little.
In the middle of the night, a had shook Thedius awake. The boy rubbed his eyes, coming face to face with the Commander, his father.
"Look what you did, boy."
Thedius looked. Surrounding the squad of knights was about two dozen squirrels, foxes, skunks, owls, and even a bear. A fucking bear.
The knights drew their swords and bows, ready to fight whatever the fuck was about to happen.
The animals began to grow, and the bear began to shrink. Their fur was replaced with metal armor, swords, helmets, and a Royal crest that belonged to a Bastard King. It was the convoy. They had found them out.
A massacre took place around Thedius. His father, and comrades, all dead. A boy no older or younger than Thedius walked up to him, brandishing his sword.
"Thanks for the beans," he said before slicing Thedius' head clean off.
I held my breath as I clicked the button. I sent in some saliva in a glass tube to a company that analyzed your DNA, and finally, the results were in. Hopefully, this website would reveal some insight into who I was and where I came from. I sat on my bed with the little laptop, praying this would reveal something about my blood relatives.
It was hard being adopted. I always stuck out in family photos with jet-black hair and a pointed nose. My family, my loving adopted family, raised me from infancy. I couldn't have asked for anything more because they treated me like one of their own. Except, I wanted to know who I was deep down. Whose blood ran through my veins?
The website refreshed. I knew what to expect - or rather, I thought I knew what to expect. One of my friends had done this a couple of months ago. Once you clicked the button, a map of the world appeared, highlighting all of the areas your ancestors came from. It broke down your bloodline from countries and regions across the globe.
When mine appeared, my stomach dropped. The map of the world appeared with big bold letters that read 'UNKNOWN ORIGINS'. I threw my arms up in frustration and tried again. Same result.
Again. Same result. Maybe if I logged out and back in...
Same result.
I took a breath and realized it was probably a website error or something. I found the troubleshooting contact information and dialed the number. The line rang, and a female answered, "Hello, this is Me&23 DNA, this is Melissa. How can I help you today?"
"Yeah, hi. I just got my results back, and the website says it can't find my results or something."
There was a pause. "Have you tried logging out and back into the website?"
"Yes."
"Okay. Is there an error message when you try to access the information?"
"Yes, the message reads 'Unknown Origins'."
A longer pause. A long pause so long that I thought the line had disconnected.
"Uh...Give me a moment. I need to contact my boss."
The line went dead. I looked at my phone and tried to dial the number back. Perhaps the woman hit the wrong button. A busy signal.
I sighed. Maybe I was never meant to know who my family was.
My phone rang again. "Hello?" I was praying it was the woman from before, but this time, it was a man's gravely voice.
"Hello," said the voice. "Is this [INSERT YOUR NAME HERE]"?
"Yes, who is this?"
"Listen, this would be easier to explain in person. Come down into my office, and I can explain."
"What? Office? I think you have the wrong number mister."
Just then, on the opposite end of the wall, a portal opened up. It was blue and black swirled, and evoked a sense of calm. "I don't have the wrong number. You're my son/daughter, [INSERT YOUR NAME HERE]."
"W-what did you say your name was," I whispered into the phone.
"Hades, the Lord of the Underworld."
////
Author's note: Found this in my drafts from a year ago. Don't know if it's any good, but I'm trying to clear out my drafts. I also don't remember what I originally called the teenager, so I used [insert your name here] blocks. Sorry. Hope you like it!
This prompt should be edited to say '...should be considered the 9th wonder of the world.' There was a man in professional wrestling called Andre the Giant, real name André René Roussimoff. He was a French wrestler who stood at 7'4" tall and weighed 500+ pounds and went undefeated for nearly fifteen years. The feat earned him the moniker of the "Eighth Wonder of the World." Notably, he also had a major role in The Princess Bride as Fezzik, a giant who was contracted to be a bodyguard for Vizzini along with Inigo Montoya. His wrestling accolades saw him win the WWF Championship in 1988 and the Tag Team title in 1989 with Haku. He famously feuded with Hulk Hogan on-and-off for ten years, the culmination ending at Wrestlemania III in 1988 where Hogan ended Andre's undefeated streak. This career led him to be inducted into the WWE Hall of Fame in 1993, solidifying him as the "Eighth Wonder of the World."
"Were you the one that called?" The man, dressed in an orange jumpsuit and aviator glasses stood on Ms. Dalloway's porch. He would have looked exactly like Dale Gribble in the animated show King of the Hill, except Dale was rail-thin, and this man looked as if...well, let's just say he wasn't thin at all.
"Yes, thank you for coming so quickly," Ms. Dalloway said as she ushered him inside the house. "The scratching started last night, and I think I heard hissing."
"Hm, hissing? Scratching at night? Sounds like you're dealing with a marsupial, ma'am."
"Marsupial? You mean like a possum or a raccoon?" She backed herself up into the front door, feeling a sense of security there. "Don't they usually have rabies?"
"Sometimes," said the man, opening his toolbox full of various liquids and nets and equipment. "But not all the time. Usually, these guys get in through the foundation of the house or exterior vents. Do you know where he might've crawled into?"
"Well, no, this house is fairly new. There shouldn't be any foundation cracks."
"Okay, then. I'll do a perimeter around your house and see if it has any entries or exits, and I'll probably identify it in the meantime." He left out the backdoor with a spray gun in hand and a gas mask on. Ms. Dalloway didn't know what to do besides wait for the man to come back, so she decided on sitting on the front porch, away from any hissing noises.
The man, an exterminator with fifteen years of experience, walked around the white house. The paneling was new, indicating that the woman knew what she was talking about. The house was fairly new and - what the Hell is that?
The man noticed a red tuff of fur next to one of the gutter drainage systems. He followed the drainage pipe up to the gutters on the roof and noticed a patch of tiles had been ripped open. However, the opening was huge, much larger than a raccoon or a possum. And the red hair? It looked like the hair of a red panda, but this was in the middle of Nowhere, Iowa, and red pandas aren't marsupials.
The man picked up the hair and sniffed. Definitely a wild animal. Male. About fifteen, no sixteen and a half years of age. Whatever this thing was, it was in its prime. Wait a minute...the man licked the tuff of hair, and it all of a sudden hit him like a ton of bricks. He knew what exactly he was dealing with. He spit on the ground, and cursed.
The man walked back to the front porch where Ms. Dalloway was sitting. "Ma'am, you have a grade four infestation."
"Grade four? Is that bad?" Ms. Dalloway lept from her chair, as if the intruder would leap out of the house any second and grab her.
"No, grade four is pretty low, but rather annoying." The man walked back to his truck, and put his tools away. He reached into his glove box, and pulled out sunscreen and a can of mountain dew. "The infestation you have is non-toxic, non-lethal, and is just looking for a place to find some shade. Ironically, they make very good company and haven't harmed anybody."
The man opened the soda, and shook the sunscreen bottle. From the house, you could hear a scrambling and something breaking. Ms. Dalloway would later find out that the something that broke was one of her vents.
"Come on, fella. Let's get you back home. You're probably someone's son."
The front door crept open and out stepped a red-headed man. A ginger. He walked slowly towards the exterminator and grabbed the soda.
"A red-headed child. These guys often get scared during the summer months due to the extreme heat. The sun burns their skin and they seek shelter from time to time."
"Billy?!" A voice said from down the road. "We've been looking all over for you!"
The kid's head perked up at the sound of his mother's voice. He ran to his mother, dropping the soda can in the street. They embraced, and began walking back towards home.
"Thank you," Ms. Dalloway said as the exterminator got back in his van.
He tipped his glasses to her. "All in a day's work, ma'am."
"Give me an analysis of the crime scene," said Captain Wulph. His coffee remained untouched on his desk, which was unusual. Usually, he had three cups by the time he walked into the office, and another once he sat down. But, given the circumstances of the death in this new case file, nobody would have an appetite for weeks. Someone was targeting the Fae - even just finding one was not an easy task - a serial killer was on the loose, and had Fae wings on the menu.
"This is the third Fae we've found in just two weeks," said Detective Vamp. "Like the others, her wings had been...uh, chewed off."
"Jesus," said the Captain. "Any sign of poison?"
"Yes," said Vamp. He showed his superior a photo of the victim's mouth at the crime scene. While her head had been underwater, the skin around her mouth was stained with a green substance. "It's the same substance as the other two victims. Likely, the liquid will be found in her lungs, almost like she inhaled it."
"We need constant surveillance in and around all night clubs in the area," said Wulph. "Whoever this maniac is, he's going to strike again. His hunger won't let him idle."
"Already on it, sir. Detectives have been scattered across the Bay, two to each club. I'll be stationed at the Broken Arrow with Detective Hunter."
The Captain nodded. "Good work. I'll get the Mayor on the phone and have him warn all the Fae in the area to not travel alone and carry protection. Let's catch this bastard."
"The first step is to solidify your target," said the man in the grey suit. "Make sure it's someone that fits the bill."
The other man, the one with the sunken eyes and crooked teeth, nodded at this statement. He looked down at the photos on the table, choosing one that lived alone, had no social life, and looked just like his type.
"The next step is to incapacitate them - tie them up, knock them out, anything to make sure they can't escape." The man in the suit looked at the photo his apprentice had chosen and nodded. "Good choice for your first assignment."
"The last step is where we have fun?" The gnarly-looking man asked, eager to get started.
"Yes, that's where we demonstrate our skills."
“Hey, man, why are we heading to this place again?” asked the wagon driver. “Even the horse looks spooked.”
I look up at him from the bed of the wagon, frustrated from his constant talking. “Didn’t I pay you to not ask questions?” Oof, maybe a little harsh, i thought. I still needed him to get back into town. “Listen, for the third time , I need to retrieve something for my uncle. It’s a self portrait of him and his late wife after their wedding. Since he moved out of the castle and started living in town due to his age, he did not have the time to retrieve his items. So, he hired me to do it.”
“Your uncle has weird taste in homes.” He quipped.
“Shut up,” I said as the wagon came to a stop by the foot of the drive. It’s foundation had been weathered down by the sea over the years. The castle creaked and moaned as the wind blew. The instructions by my uncle were very clear: get in and get out. The balance of weight could topple the castle into the sea at any—
The wind blew something fierce just then as I was making my way up the steps. The castle swayed to one side and then another, and eventually came crashing down to the sea at the bottom. I stood on the steps, holding the door knob as I was almost inside. I looked at the doorknob in my hand, and back to where the castle stood a few moments before.
I shrugged my shoulders and hopped back into the wagon with the driver and horse, whose mouths were agape in shock and disbelief.
“Holy shit,” the horse said.
On most nights, you can hear her howl. The ghoul of Saunderville was just a scary story when I was growing up, or so I thought. It wasn’t until I met her that I believed in the supernatural, and heartbreak. The story began as a bride-to-be lost her husband on the night of her wedding, and her spirit roamed the cemetery near his grave. I was dared, as most teenagers are, to spend the night in the cemetery as an act of bravery. It was just past one A.M when her ghostly form appeared before me. I ran out of the cemetery, never looking back. Who knew that a heartbreak could doom a soul.
