Chapter 1
She ran across the clay bathed in moonlight.
"Papa!" The little girl shrieked, as her tiny legs carried her towards the small house. "Papa, they're coming!"
She could hear them just behind her. Their decayed bodies were wrapped in white linen, but they still leveled their arms, with rotted fingers reaching out to grasp the young child. Her bangs dangled before her eyes, but she thrust the brown locks aside as she sprinted. "Papa, we have to hurry!" Her green skirt was ruffled by the late night wind, as her legs tirelessly carried her.
"Pamela! Hurry inside!" Her father was knelt beside the house, but his fingers were working urgently.
The little girl crossed the last of the blank, canyon landscape, stopping as she reached her father. "I'm not leaving you," she protested, kneeling beside him. She turned around. The undead corpses wrapped in cloth were halfway across their clay, rock-based front yard. Pamela and her father knelt just beside the wheel attached to their house. A stream ran alongside to turn the great waterwheel, but it wasn't accomplishing anything just yet. The brass horns protruding from their small house were hollow and quiet.
"Pamela, you have to get inside in case they make it," her father protested. "The gibdos won't wait for me to finish."
"I'm not leaving you." She buried her face into his shoulder as he worked furiously; the white lab coat was soft in her fingers. His red hair was stirred by the gentle wind, as hers was. A panel at the base of their house was removed, while he squeezed a gear into place, chipping away an imperfection to finish the music box.
"Pamela, please," he said, though his eyes never found her. They remained absorbed with the tools in his hand. "Please go inside." His voice was shaking.
"I'm... I'm going to protect you," Pamela stammered. The gibdos' moans were growing louder. Somebody has to, she thought. The little girl got to her feet, turning to face the monsters. They were only feet away, passing the small staircase leading to their front door. Her eyes nervously darted to the water shining beside her, before finding the gibdos again. She tried to count them, but grew scared after seven. They were in a pack together, and walked dazedly to close the last of the empty space.
"Pamela, you can't fight them," her father protested. His hands shook as he tried to fit the last gear in place. He sounded scared. "Please go inside"
"I can fight them," Pamela said, swallowing nervously. She tried to stop her legs from shaking as she stood in front of her father. "Don't... don't come any closer."
"Pamela, you can still make it if you run. I can't stop. I can't."
"Don't come any closer," the little girl stated, balling her fists by her sides to stop herself from trembling. The gibdos carried on as if she'd said nothing, mere footsteps away. She could start to smell them; the bright night only seemed to grow darker as their silhouettes cast over them. How am I going to fight them? she thought. You'll figure it out. Just be brave. Like your Papa. "You'll regret it."
"Pamela..."
"Stop. Please. I'll... I'll fight you."
"Pamela, you have to run."
"Please!"
"... Pamela..."
"Don't hurt us."
"Pamela...!
"No!"
"I've got it!"
The white arms swiped to grab her face, and the sharp fingertips barely missed her nose. The little girl stumbled back into her father, and they fell in a tangled heap at the feet of the gibdos. Though, not before the final gear fell into place.
The entire multi-colored, brick house beside them seemed to shudder. The gears within the panel began turning in sync, along with the gentle flow of the stream nearby. The sound of rushing water was replaced with clanking, and, suddenly, music filled the air. The brass horns trembled, almost glowing with new life as a circus melody left their rims.
Pamela's father curled around his screaming daughter; the gibdos descended upon them. She could only wail in the warm darkness of his embrace. A terrible tearing noise was followed by another scream. Then, the attack stopped. Pamela heard grunting noises, and her father released her. She scurried away, eying the red dotting the clay ground before turning back to the gibdos.
They were grabbing the sides of their heads, moaning at the sound of the music. They swayed back and forth on their feet, clearly irritated by the whimsical music. All of them had stopped – not a single one continued the attack. They merely moaned in place, swaying. Pamela looked up to her father, who was curled into a ball gripping his shoulder. The open gash glistened in the night. "Papa!" Pamela exclaimed, running to the side of her father. The gibdos still cast a shadow over them, but she looked up with wide eyes to see their next course of action.
They burrowed into the ground. One by one, the wriggling gibdos retreated into the earth, vanishing into the clay in a mad dash to flee from the music. In a matter of moments, the sound of the undead was replaced by only water and music. The rhythm continued pouring from the brass pipes. Pamela looked up at the house for only a moment longer, eyes returning to the spot where the undead had been.
"Pamela...," her father said weakly, scooting back to rest against the side of the house. Her attention was turned back to him.
"Papa," she said, holding one shoulder worriedly as she knelt beside him. His other one was ripped open. The gibdos claws had sunk deep, and the wound was a ghastly crimson.
"You didn't go inside the house," he said.
"I couldn't let them eat you," she explained. "Are you going to be okay?"
"I just... I just need to find something to heal it," her father said, nodding his head eagerly. He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath. "There has to be something at the bottom of the well I can use."
"But Papa..."
"It'll be okay, Pamela. It'll be okay. I promise."
The sound of his promise echoed through her memory as she awoke.
She pulled the covers up to her chin, shivering from underneath the blankets. I don't like to remember that night, Pamela thought to herself. Nonetheless, the music continued from outside, even though the dream had ended. Even though I know I'll never forget it. The music would always be a constant reminder; that had been the night the never ending song had started. Until the stream went dry. Though, that had been fixed eventually, and the curse placed upon her father, courtesy of the well, had been, too.
Pamela turned over in the cot, and her eyes found her father. It was always dark in their basement, but it was even darker when the lamps went out for the night. Her father must have gone to bed after she'd already fallen asleep. The second cot was across from her, and his mouth was agape, head rested on his pillow. Her father was a tall, lanky man, but the only thing protruding from his blankets was his relaxed face and bright, messy hair.
Pamela smiled, just across the floor from him. I'd better not wake him up. He'd been up late working, she knew, but the little girl was never able to return to sleep after a bad dream. Pamela threw the covers off herself. She slid from the thin bed on stilts, and her bare feet landed on the cool, stone floor. The girl ran along to the staircase, passing the counters, gadgets, boxes, and cabinets lining the walls. Her feet padded quietly up its length until she was in the dimly lit first floor.
Pamela peeked through the small window on the front door. Daylight still seemed far away. She turned the door knob and flung it open; the night was cool. The little girl stepped onto the porch and smiled at the beautiful night.
The stars were lanterns, and Ikana Canyon basked in its midnight glow. The clay ground stretched on blank and undisturbed. Water ran alongside to the left, and tall, canyon walls were on the right. Further to the left, the ancient, impenetrable walls of Ikana Castle towered hundreds of feet in the air. Their front yard of rock and clay went on several feet before ending on a cliff, and she knew over that would eventually be a path that lead to Clock Town.
Pamela sat at the edge of the porch, allowing her feet to dangle over the ground radiating coolness. The wind felt good on her feet; it got hot in the music box house sometimes. Her eyes scanned the ground to take in the black scars burnt into its rock. She wondered what ancient battle had been fought here to create such deep marks, but it must have been the same one that burnt down the surrounding shacks. Pamela smiled, however, craning back her head to look at the most beautiful thing of all.
The rainbow pulsated even in the night. It was always dimmer in the later hours, but it still glowed. The ribbon stretched across the sky, arcing over the canyon walls from thousands of feet in the air. It unites all of Termina. In her dream, there had been moonlight, but the moon no longer existed in this realm. It had turned into a light spirit many weeks ago. That was a beautiful day, she remembered. She'd watched with her father as all of the spirits in Ikana Canyon had finally left, and the next morning, they watched the sunrise and the birth of the rainbow light. The light spirit. She'd never been shown proof that it was a spirit, but somehow, she knew. Shorty after its appearance, they'd gone to the carnival. That was a good day.
The events leading up to that still confused her, however. Her father's curse had been healed, the stream had no longer been dried up, and the undead spirits had left. It had all happened inexplicably. There's something, or someone, I must be forgetting. The only thing she could attribute it to was the light spirit; it had burst from the wicked moon to bring joy to everyone. She squinted at the burn marks in the canyon floor, however, and wondered if those were caught up in those events, too. No, those are ancient, she decided. And the shacks were burnt down when we got here.
The gibdos hadn't been gone, though, but they were now. They probably weren't coming back, either. All the undead left with the light spirit, she remembered. They would never stop playing the music, just in case; they hardly ever noticed it anyways. It was only when a nightmare reminded her that she even remembered it was playing in the background. Forever and ever and ever. Better safe than sorry, as they'd discovered with the creatures here.
Pamela remained sitting on the porch for an hour. Her eyes stayed fixated on the vibrant light, and the breeze danced through her toes. She looked to the well upon a hill to the right, wondering what stirred in its depths now that the undead had fled. She wondered where her mother was, and rocked back and forth on the porch's edge. Then, she returned inside. Pamela ran to the bookshelf, grabbed a book, and then returned to the steps.
She read by the light of the spirit and the stars. The volume was heavy and dusty in her hands, even though she'd only just purchased it at the last Carnival of Time. She found the marked page she left, and returned to her world of fantasy. The real world hung heavily above her, brightening as the sunlight returned.
"Pamela." The little girl looked up from her book. She sat comfortably at their dining room table adjacent to the staircase, and found her father. His red hair was sticking up in the back, and his groggy face was half-awake, but smiling. "You couldn't sleep again?"
"No," she responded, flipping a page absently as she stared off. "I had another bad dream."
"I'm sorry, sweetie." He walked over to the counter, tousling her hair as he passed by. "I think I've found some gray vines that would help you sleep, if you wanted something." She watched his hands go to the cabinets and pull jars to its surface. He unscrewed them as he started a fire in the hearth.
"I think I'll be fine," she said. "I'm not tired or anything."
"Do you want breakfast?"
"Sure." Pamela returned the book to its spot on the shelf. The cooked eggs and greenery were exactly what she'd wanted. The smell was amazing, but the taste was ten times better. In between bites, however, she found herself looking up at her father, eating across from her at the table. A question buzzed in the back of her mind.
"What is it, Pamela?"
"Do you think we'll ever move back to Clock Town?" she asked.
He didn't seem to know how to take that. "Why do you ask?"
"Just because I really like it down there, and we've been out here for a really long time."
"You know I can't leave my research just yet," her father replied. He looked down at his plate sadly, before turning back to her. "I thought you were happy."
"I am," she replied, shrugging. "I just like Clock Town a lot, too. There's more people there."
Her father laughed lightly, coughing when water went down the wrong way. "We're the only ones here. So, yes. There are a lot more people in Clock Town. We can go to visit later this week, if you want to."
"Yeah," she said uneasily, turning back to her food. She noticed her father watching her, and wondered what he was thinking. I don't even know what I'm trying to say. Did she want to move away from Ikana Canyon? Maybe. But there were things she liked about living here, too. Pamela remained undecided, but it never came back up.
Once every bite had left her plate clean and spotless, she scampered back to the front door, pulling on a blue shirt and dark pants as she went outside. "Be careful, Pamela," her father warned. "I'll be out in an hour or so."
"Of course, Papa." She closed the door behind her. Pamela wondered around the yard for a while, before eventually slipping off her shoes and dipping her feet in the stream. The rainbow was beautiful, starkly standing out in the vibrantly blue sky. The sun was fierce today. It's always so pretty out here, she thought, as she turned to look at the canyon. But it can get kind of boring. She wondered how serious her father's offer had been to go to Clock Town soon. I'd love to see some friends again. Pamela didn't know if they would even remember her; it had been so many weeks since the carnival.
Pamela kept her feet in the water until they got cold. She pulled them out, watching as clay was dotted darker by her wet feet. The little girl allowed the warm clay to bake and dry them, running around the blackened scorch marks playfully. Eventually, she sat in the middle of one, looking back up to the well upon the hill. She'd noticed it last night for the first time in a while. I wonder what is down there, now that all of the gibdos have left, she thought. Papa's been there once since then. Would it be dangerous for her to go see?
Pamela looked to the front door of her house, to see her father was still inside. He'll never know. He would never let her, of course, but he wouldn't stop her if he didn't find out. I'll be okay. The gibdos are gone. She was bored, any who. I'll probably need my shoes.
Pamela ran back to the stream to grab them, and then was walking along the incline to approach it. Stone surrounded a very deep pit, with rungs leading down into its darkness. Looking up, Pamela could see the river from the well's entrance. It flowed far, far below the cliffside her house sat atop. The dips and ridges were always so pretty.
The little girl turned back to the well. A sign was in front of it, as it always had been. Empty Well. Entry prohibited due to ghost sightings. Her father had placed that there to deter people who would hurt themselves. But there aren't ghosts or gibdos down there anymore. Pamela began to descend the rungs, though the metal bars were rough on her fingers. They were sturdy, however, and she climbed into the underground darkness. It grew cooler, and the sunlight disappeared above her. An adventure. Pamela couldn't help but smile.
The little girl let go a few rungs from the bottom, and her shoes landed on the stone well's floor. She looked up to see the distant daylight, and then turned to the cavern's dark mouth. It is pretty dark, Pamela began to realize. It had been a while since she'd come down here. The little girl took a tentative step forward; there was a point where the light ended at a line, when the cavern system engulfed those who would step forward.
Two steps in, and she stopped again. Pamela turned back to the ladder leading up, having second thoughts. There may not be any ghosts or gibdos down here, but it's still so dark. Maybe she could ask her dad what was down here, and she wouldn't have to find out herself. But this is an adventure. Pamela reminded herself. She took another step forward, wondering how much longer her father would be inside.
"Please."
Pamela froze, and instantly, her eyes widened. The voice had been hardly a whisper, coming from the darkness of the cavern. Her hands were shaking as she backed into the light. "Who's there?"
"Please, just go away." The voice was so hard to hear. It sounded like a man, but he sounded very hurt. "Don't come in here." Pamela stopped backing away when she realized he sounded afraid. The little girl looked to her shaking hands and balled her fists. Stop shaking. It's an adventure.
"Is everything okay?" she asked the darkness. The small voice was coming from within it. "Who's there?"
"Nobody. Please, just go. I want to sit in the sunlight a little bit longer."
He's scared, she realized. Or hurt. Suddenly, all of the fear was gone. He's not a monster. "You can come into the sunlight with me," she said, backing up to stand fully in it. The rungs of the ladder were just behind her. "We can share it."
"You don't want to share anything with me. Please. Just go, and you won't have to see me."
"I promise I won't hurt you," Pamela said.
"I'm a monster," he said.
"No you're not," the little girl responded. "I can tell."
"You can't even see me. You're just a little girl."
"My papa used to be a monster," Pamela replied. "But I helped him." He had no response to that one. "Please. There's plenty of sunlight for both of us." She waited for something to happen, but he never said anything else. When she was about to take another step forward, he did instead.
The tall, slender figure stepped into the sunlight. He was wearing a black robe that covered every inch of his body. A hood covered his face, and black gloves covered his hands. She could find no distinctive trait about him, aside from his long, slender form. The face within was cast in shadow. He stood half in the sunlight, whilst the rest of him was bathed in shadow. The fear returned in her chest. "Are you scared now?" he asked, in that ghostly whisper.
"No," she lied, taking a step forward. "Why are you wearing a cloak? I can't see your face."
"You don't want to see my face," he said. "It's almost gone."
"How can you lose your face?"
"I died, and was laid to rest in a waterway."
Pamela paused for a moment, not understanding as his weak whisper of a voice left the darkness. She remained standing tall, however, with the rungs nearby in case she had to flee. "All of the undead left Ikana Canyon when the light spirit came," the little girl said. The hooded face remained facing her.
"The light spirit must have missed one." They remained standing there for a while, across from one another, until the mysterious figure moved next. She took a tentative step backward, and watched the man hesitate when he saw her retract.
"No, I... I'm sorry," she stammered. "You can come in here with me. I promise. I don't mind." She remained standing as the man entered the sunlight. His hood stayed drawn, however, so she never saw his face. He sat against the curved edge of the well, only looking up momentarily before casting his head back down. She saw a flash of his ghastly pale cheek. Pamela stood still, staring at him. Neither one of them said a word. The sunlight flickered before her, as dust particles danced in its rays.
Eventually, Pamela took another step forward, sitting against the rim of the well's wall with him. She drew her knees up to her chest as she sat there, looking off before she thought of something else to say. The man remained sitting far from her, staring off into the sunlight hitting the stone's bottom. "What's your name?" Pamela finally asked.
The man didn't respond immediately. "I don't think I'm ready to share that with anybody yet. I only just got it back."
"How do you lose a name?"
"When you sell it to a demon."
"Oh." She didn't know how to respond to that. "Are you a demon?"
He hesitated. "I don't think so."
"Why are you at the bottom of this well?"
"I don't know where to go," he responded. "Ikana Canyon is the land of the dead, so I thought I might find a home here."
"It's not the land of the dead anymore." She paused. "But, I guess since you're here, that might be different now."
A noise that might have been a laugh escaped from within the hood. "You've been asking me a lot of questions. Am I allowed to ask you some?" Pamela felt the fear return in her chest, but she kept it hidden. This is an adventure. "I'm sorry," the man suddenly said, before she could speak. "I told you I would frighten you, I..."
"No, it's okay," she interrupted, motioning him to sit back down. "I just... don't know what to think about you yet. That's all." The man didn't respond. "But you can ask me questions. That way... you can know what to think about me."
He took a moment to finally ask one. "What's your name?"
"Pamela."
"Do you live in the colorful house that plays the music?"
"Yes."
"Why do you live in the land of the dead?"
"My father likes to study things here. He says there are weird energies here."
"This whole land is full of weird energies," the man responded. There was another moment of silence after that.
"Why is your voice so quiet?" Pamela asked. "It's hard to hear."
"Because I died," the man explained. "My body started decaying in the water, and my throat is messed up."
"Do you have blood in your body, like me? Is your heart beating?"
He took a moment to respond. "Yes. But not as strongly."
"How did you come back from the dead?"
"A demon brought me back."
Pamela found herself disturbed by that answer, too. "The same demon?" she inquired. "Are you evil?"
He hesitated the longest after that one. "I don't know the answer to that question," he asked. "But I won't hurt you, Pamela. I don't think I ever want to hurt anyone else again."
She decided she liked that answer the best of them all. "Good," she said. They sat there for a little bit longer, before her head shot back up at another thought. "Are you hungry?"
"I... I don't know," he replied. "I haven't tried eating in a long time."
"I can bring you food," Pamela said, getting to her feet. "If you wait here."
"I don't know if I need..."
"Please, let me get you food," she insisted. The hooded face remained down so she couldn't see it, but he was looking at her, nonetheless. "It might make you feel better."
Eventually, he turned away, leaning back to the wall. "Will you stay here and wait?" Pamela asked. "Until I bring you food?"
He thought about that for a minute, until he made that noise that might have been a laugh again. Except, it didn't sound like he thought anything was funny. It sounded like he might have been happy. "I will wait here for you, Pamela. I don't have anywhere else to go."
"I'll be back," she said, nodding her head and smiling. "I promise." Pamela ran to the bars, climbing up the metal rungs and leaving the man with the cloak behind. She pulled herself out of the well and into the daylight, making her way back to her house... when she saw her dad stepping outside. Pamela froze in her tracks, pausing as her dad made a quick scan of the yard, before eventually spotting her on top of the hill.
"Pamela?!" her father exclaimed. "What are you doing up there?"
"I just wanted to see the river," she lied quickly, throwing one last glance at the well. I'll have to wait until later, she realized. Please don't leave me. She wanted to bring him food and find out more about him. I want to help him. Pamela smiled as she ran back to the house. An adventure.
But she wouldn't tell her father. Pamela knew that after their encounter with the gibdos, he would never trust anything undead again. Especially one that had dealt with demons. But he's good, Pamela thought. I know it. I can help him.
Note: I'm back! I know I left a note in my previous story stating I wouldn't return to fanfiction for a while, but it turns out I had one last thing to say. Now that it's almost finished, I thought I'd upload Chapter 1.
As some probably noticed, this is a sequel to my novelization of Majora's Mask. Those of you who've read that hopefully were able to identify the man in the black robe. But if you haven't, The Light Spirit stands on its own as a separate short story, so I encourage new readers to enjoy this one without having to read the other.
New readers should be aware that I break rather drastically from the "official" timeline; in my universe, Wind Waker takes place after Majora's Mask. Also, a warning: those of you interested in my novelization will find major spoilers for how that turns out in this story. While yes, it was a novelization, I also took heavy liberties with several of the storyline endings. I don't want to deter any of you from reading this because of that, but I thought I'd put the warning, all the same.
Unlike my first story, there will only be six chapters and an epilogue. It certainly won't compare in scope to Majora's Mask, but then again, it was never supposed to. There was one loose end that I couldn't help but follow, after I finished the novelization, and this is where it lead me. I have no plans for further fanfiction writing after this, and plan on committing my time hereafter to original works. As always, I'll make sure to keep up with my account here, so feel free to message me even after this has been uploaded in its entirety. I'll probably space out the updates, since it may be my last time posting to this site.
While no where near the investment my last story was, it was still an immense pleasure to write. I love where it ended up going, and think it adds a worthwhile narrative to my other story, while also standing on its own. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it.