A/N: I've had this idea for a story ever since I saw Rise of the Guardians about a week ago. I feel as though this has some potential but I'd love to know what you think of it. Maybe if enough people seem to like it, I'll continue it. I already have the next chapter completed and will be posting that in a few days time so you'll get a feel of what's to come.
Disclaimer: I do not own 'Rise of the Guardians' nor the poem 'Come Little Children' by Edgar Allan Poe. I'd also like to note that english isn't my first language and should you spot any grammar mistakes etc. please inform me about them in a nice manner. Thank you!
It was a dark, chilly October's night, the cold air having had scared even the moon away into hiding. Four children slowly made their rounds around the houses of their neighborhood, clinging onto their pumpkin shaped baskets with numbing, white fingers, protecting their stash of well-earned candy. They were dressed in costumes of various characters typically associated with this time of the year, all having added a thick cloak to shelter them from the rising cold. Baskets already nearly full, the three slightly older children decided to have a little fun on the expense of the youngest, and as such they had digressed from the main road, heading towards the local cemetery in order to scare the younger one. When they'd mentioned they'd be taking a shortcut through the sheltered field full of tombstones and graves the youngling had first protested but agreed to it once the older children had accused of him being a scaredy-cat.
"They say this cemetery's haunted," the first of the children began, his voice low and ominous as he turned to glance at the youngest, smirking slightly when he saw the other tense immediately upon his words.
"I heard that all of the people that ever died in this town are buried here," another of the children whispered, his voice just as grim, further adding to the spooky atmosphere of the cemetery.
Of course, his words were most likely true; the town in which they all resided was quite small, so naturally the departed would be buried at the only cemetery for miles to come. Still, on a night like this such logical thinking was nullified, leaving one to imagine the worst.
"B-but there's no such things as ghosts," the youngest uttered forcefully through his teeth, his voice a tad shaky despite his best efforts to keep it steady. He quickly rubbed his hands together, trying to mask his rising fear for being cold. "They're just as real as nightmares are – at least that's what mom says…"
"That's what she wants you to think. Everyone knows ghosts are real and that they can haunt you while you sleep," the last of the children snickered, momentarily jerking his head to the side as if seeing something. "Did you guys just see that?" he whispered, masking his smile as he saw the youngest boy visibly holding his breath, obviously scared. He turned back to look at one of the graves a couple or so meters away, raising his finger to point at it. "I think I just saw something move over there."
"Could it be that ghost?" the first boy whispered back, giving the others a wink.
"W-what… ghost?" the youngest uttered, swallowing hard as he peaked around the other children to look at the grave, sighing when he found nothing out of the ordinary. "There's nothing there..."
"Many centuries ago there was a woman that was burned on a stake accused of witchcraft. They say her sprit still walks among us, searching for the relatives of the judge who trialed her." Of course, his story was completely made up but it still didn't change the fact that the young boy believed his every word - just like he himself had once believed his own big brother.
"Hey, isn't your dad a judge? Who knows, maybe she's out to get you tonight," the second boy taunted the youngest, enjoying his now frozen state.
"What does the witch do if she finds you?" the third boy inquired in a whispered tone.
"She's said to burn you alive, just like she was."
The youngest boy stared at the grave with wide, fearful eyes, barely able to breath. "But mom always said… there's no such thing as ghosts." He was ready to wet himself, shivering violently from the cold and his own fears. "Mom…"
The three older boys couldn't take it anymore, bursting into laughter as they watched the youngest start to cry, giving one another high-fives. The younger boy turned to stare at them with utter disbelief written across his face, feeling even worse as he figured out he'd been pranked.
"You should see your face!" the first boy laughed, holding onto his stomach like he was having trouble breathing.
"Yeah, that was priceless!" the other agreed beside him, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes.
The youngest cried even harder than before, turning around on his heals as he started making his escape back to the safe and familiar road he knew led him to his house. He was done with scary stories for tonight as well as the company of the boys he'd agreed to go trick-or-treating with that night.
"You're all mean idiots!" he managed to voice out before bursting into a run, leaving the rest of the boys behind.
"Well that was fun," one of them breathed out after finally recovering from his laughter, the other two calming down as well. "Now, who's up for a little more trick-or-treating? I want this puppy full!" he patted his basket gleefully, earning nods from his friends.
"Yeah! After all Halloween is all about candy!"
They continued their way across the cemetery, the route genuinely being a shortcut through at least three blocks worth of extra walking. Still emitting a stray giggle here and there, they suddenly felt a particularly cold gush of air, causing them all to jerk to a stop, the wind feeling as though it had gone straight through their bones. They glanced at each other, hugging themselves in an effort to keep warm from the sudden cold.
"What do you think that was? It couldn't have been the wind; there's too many trees around for it to blow here."
"Do you think it's that little runt trying to get back at us?"
"Probably. But he's not going to scare us, right guys?"
They continued their way, only to be brought to a stop once more, this time by a voice.
"W-what's that?" one of the boys whispered, his heart pounding slightly faster in his chest when he realized it couldn't possibly be the younger boy.
They listened for a moment before another opened his mouth, his voice but a whisper.
"I think that's… humming," he deciphered, turning his head from side to side in hopes of trying to pinpoint the sound. "I think that's a woman's voice, don't you? …Such a weird melody; I've never heard it before."
"Yeah, no doubt about it. But where's it coming from?"
"…Do you really want to find out? Shouldn't we just continue on?" the third asked in a dismissive tone, trying to mask his own growing anxiety by taking a few steps forward. "Don't tell me you actually believe in ghosts and stuff like that…"
The humming became instantly louder, all but freezing the boy in mid step as it echoed from various directions, the wind rising up once more and causing the trees to swing lightly, the swooshing of the leaves and the groaning of the branches starting to remind the children of a horror movie. They jumped as they saw something move in the forest; staring with wide, disbelieving eyes as small green fireballs levitated in the far distance.
The humming lasted for a little longer before stopping, changing into a song that made the boys nearly let go of their hard earned candy-filled baskets and spill the contents on the ground.
Come little children, I'll take thee away,
Into a land of enchantment.
Come little children, the times come to play,
Here in my garden of shadows.
The voice was eerie but clear and the song accompanied by the background noises and fire made the boys visibly shake as they stared at their surroundings in terror, desperately trying to find the source of the voice. Their breaths hitched to the back of their throats whenever they thought they saw something, only to realize a second later that it was just a tree or tombstone.
Follow sweet children, I'll show thee the way,
Through all the pain and the sorrows.
Weep not poor children, for life is this way,
Murdering beauty and passions.
The voice was getting closer, the woman singing emphasizing ominously on the words the boys really didn't like. They huddled together, all at the brink of running should they see or hear anything after the woman had stopped her singing. There was once again a strong, sudden gush of wind and before none of the boys could react, a black-cloaked figure stood in front of them, large poison green eyes staring at them intensely.
Bursting into shouts and screams, the boys stumbled backwards, all of them landing on the cold, hard ground before scrambling back onto their feet and making a run for it, too scared to even notice half of the contents of their baskets had spilled, let alone look back. The eerie melody they'd heard would play in their minds for the rest of the night.
The young woman stared mirthlessly at the fleeting backs of the three boys, watching as they left a trail of candy behind them.
'Disrespectful brats – serves you right,' she thought as she turned around and began walking calmly through the graveyard, stopping ever so often in front of the graves, closing her eyes after she'd read the name of the departed person.
"I see; you haven't had a visitor for years," she spoke out loud, opening her eyes to gaze upon one of the graves she'd stopped by, giving a sad smile to the old headstone. "I believe your children have all moved away, sadly. Still, there's hope – maybe one day they'll decide to pay you a visit."
She gently leaned forward onto her knees, kneeling in front of the grave as she began handpicking out the weeds and moss that grew either on or around the stone, smiling briefly once her work was finished. "There. I know it's not much but at least now your final resting place has been taken care of with the respect you deserve."
She felt a slight lightening feeling as she got back onto her feet, nodding knowingly towards the stone.
"I'm glad you appreciate it. May your rest be soothing."
She continued onward, repeating the treatment with half a dozen more graves, relighting burned out candles with a wave of her hand upon coming across one. Once she'd gone through all of the graves she felt needed cleaning, she made her way to the mound of sweets left behind by the obnoxious boys from before. As she stared at the black and orange cladded pieces of candy she couldn't help but feel angered. Picking up a small chocolate ball covered in a grinning pumpkin wrapper, she ignited the piece of candy without much thought, watching as it slowly burned into a crisp in her hand.
"Is this where it's come to; costumes, candy and ghost stories?" she spoke out loud, her question not really targeted towards anyone as she stared at the flames that danced widely on her hand. Once the candy was but a piece of charcoal, she tipped her hand to get rid of it as she raised her head to look at the dark sky, a scowl forming on her face.
"You dare hide from me on a night like this. Coward; you have no idea how hard this is for me!" she shouted angrily towards the new moon before briefly turning her focus back onto the pile of candy, the small mound soon catching fire as she waved her hand above it, momentarily halting to stare at the small bonfire she'd started. When she returned her gaze back to the sky, the moon was still nowhere to be seen.
Sighing to relieve herself from her pent-up frustration with the moon, she moved to sit on top of a large stone casket – knowing that the resident wouldn't mind – and once more set her eyes on the slowly dying bonfire.
This time of the year was a particularly hard time for her and the Man in the Moon without a doubt knew that. Many centuries ago she'd woken up and met him for the first time – albeit quite briefly – having been given a name and task. That task however seemed downright impossible during Halloween and she was beginning to feel it affect her, making her feel moody and spiteful, as well as drained.
She was more or less in charge of this town's ability to pay their respects for its' departed; something that was easier said than done. The situation nowadays was far worse than it had ever been during her couple of centuries at the task and she was at a loss what to do. People just didn't seem to visit their departed relatives anymore; not even on the day best suited for it.
All Saints' Day or as people nowadays knew it, All Hallows' Eve, Halloween; the day the spirits were at their most active.
They longed to be visited by someone, to be remembered. Some of them had waited months, some even several decades for anyone to come. They were, after all, bound to their final resting place and therefor couldn't leave their graves. No, seeking out their relatives was her job, and right now she wasn't much help to the poor souls, nearly powerless to even leave the graveyard herself. For now all she could do to ease the spirits was tidy their graves and light candles. Well, there was also the odd chasing away any hooligans that thought it was funny to disrupt the peace of the dead by acting like a bunch of idiots; that always cheered up the departed.
From the moment the Man in the Moon had first told her her name, she'd been aware of her ability to wield fire. After all, she was Willow of the Wisp – or Willow for short; a spirit similar to the Will-o'-the-Wisp, and as such the element of fire was close to her. Contrary to her counterpart who was practically a giant fireball, her appearance didn't give away what she was. True, she could manifest fire from her hands but that was about it when it came to being a spirit of the same element.
Her long, thick hair was as black as the coal she burnt things into; baring two, wide white streaks on the top of her head, reminding her of a skunk. Her eye color, she'd noted, changed depending on her mood; varying from a glowing green to a deep, dark green. Her skin color was on the borderline of grayish, and if she were human she'd been on the verge of death. She considered herself average in height, just short of 160cm. Her petite form was cladded in a light and simple ash gray dress and black cloak; her feet protected from the cold by formfitting black boots she'd tied on tight, the shanks of the boots reaching just past her ankles.
The bonfire she'd started soon died out, leaving behind only a heap of ash. She stared at it for a moment – her anger now having diminished – feeling saddened for the future of the departed. She had to figure out a way to make people visit the graveyard more; otherwise the Man in the Moon would have to find a new spirit to replace her.
She carefully lied down on the stone casket, feeling suddenly tired. She sighed, knowing she'd strained herself more than she should have during a time like this; having chased away multiple people during the course of the night as well as tended to the graves. If she kept this up, she wouldn't last much longer.
Giving the empty sky one more look, she wished the departed souls a pleasant rest of the night before closing her eyes.
Reviews are highly appreciated! Pitch will appear in the next chapter ;)