THE MOOGLES REVENGE

Rating: PG
Genre: Spooky
Setting: an abandoned cottage
Main Characters: Stiltzkin

Part 1

Stiltzkin spent his time wandering around. He was an adventurer, an unusual occupation for a moogle. Most moogles around Gaia were postmasters, collecting mail for various travellers, and supplying them with items for their travels. But Stiltzkin had tired of that life, so now he wandered Gaia, in search of adventure, and exploring new places. On the day in question, he had ventured up into the mountains. He knew that it would be nightfall before too long, and he was vainly searching for a cave, or at least some shelter before night fell, as the mountains could be very dangerous at night for a lone moogle. But he could tell that there were no caves nearby. He stumbled through the mountains, searching desperately for a house or town, anything to shelter him from the coldness of the drawing night. Eventually his search brought him to a rundown cottage, deep in a crevice in the mountains.

It wasn't much, but Stiltzkin was nearing desperation for shelter. The cottage had been abandoned years ago, he could tell. One of the outer walls had caved in; creepers climbed the remaining three, possibly the only support that the walls had left. Part of the roof was burned down, and crumbled, but part was still there. As far as Stiltzkin could tell there was one room that was more or less intact. He guessed that he could spend the night there, even though it was uncomfortable.

He started to make up camp in the room. He was feeling hungry now. He set up a quick meal. he was afraid to start a fire, as the roof looked ready to catch fire at the slightest spark. Instead, he settled down to a quick meal of red berries and a few gysahl greens he had found in his journeys. As he ate he mused that he would have to replenish his supplies at the next town. He knew couple of moogles who could get him a good deal. He froze in his actions. Had he just imagined it, or had somebody been crying? He glanced all around. No. He was being stupid. He hadn't heard anything. Why would anyone still be in this house? It was so dilapidated, that even he, Stiltzkin, wouldn't be here if there had been a nearby cave. He was feeling slightly sleepy, now, so putting all thoughts running through his head down to an overactive imagination, he curled up into a little ball, wrapping his cloak around him for warmth. It was incredibly cold in this cottage. He slowly drifted to sleep, but just as he was on the verge of dozing of he sat bolt upright. He was certain that he had heard the crying again. Nervously he sat up. Was someone trapped somewhere in this house? True, he had thought it had fallen to pieces years ago, but it was possible that he could be wrong. He stood up, shaking slightly. Carefully he crept around the room. He could definitely hear crying now. It was loudest at the back of the room, a doorway had collapsed and blocked off whatever lay behind it. Yet that was clearly where the crying was coming from. Frantically Stiltzkin started shifting the rubble, certain that someone was trapped behind the rocks.

It took a long time for him to shift the pile enough to squeeze past. He fell, none to lightly onto the hard stone floor in the ancient room beyond. Groaning in pain at the way he had struck the floor, he staggered o his feet, and looked around for whoever was crying. But there was no one there. Looking around it seemed to Stiltzkin that he was in the remnants of an old larder. Decayed and rotting food still clung to shelves that had sprouted moss. A puddle of water suggested a leak in the rock above, which had allowed water to enter the larder. The floor and walls were coated with layers of green slime. It seemed that the larder had filled with water more than once in seasons gone by, before draining through the deep cracks that penetrated the floor of the pantry. Yet this was where the crying had been coming from, Stiltzkin was sure of it. He made to sit down on the floor, before remembering the slime. Instead he paced the room, trying to find another door, or somewhere where somebody could be hiding. Then he heard the crying again. It was coming from underneath him. He gazed at the floor. Through the layers of slime he could make out the faint outline of what could easily be a trapdoor. Gritting his teeth, he scraped away at the slime. Eventually, he cleared enough to allow him to open the trapdoor. The crying was loud now. Cautiously he crept down the roughly hewn steps, treading carefully, as the thick slime covered each step, making it dangerously slippery. He neared the bottom, and as he stepped onto the flat floor of the concealed room, something under his feet cracked incredibly loudly. Shocked, he jumped, and looked down. What he saw terrified him. There, lying amongst the slime, and coated in slime itself was what was clearly the skeleton of a moogle. A white figure shimmered at the far wall. Stiltzkin didn't hang around to find out what it was though. Scared, he climbed the steps again, as quickly as he dared. He got safely out of the trapdoor, and scrambled back through the hole in the rocks. Stopping only long enough to gather up his things, he fled from the cottage. He didn't stop running until he reached the safety of a nearby town, a little way away from the house. It was hidden among the rocks, impossible to see from the pathway he had taken. He entered the nearest pub. A small group of moogles sat around a table. He was still in a panic, but he joined them. One of them spoke up

"What's up Kupo? You look like you've seen a ghost" Stiltzkin nodded slightly.

"I think I did" the moogles around the table exchanged glances.

"You were up at the old cottage on the path weren't you Kupo?" Stiltzkin nodded.

"there was a skeleton under the larder" the moogles looked shocked at this.

"You actually went through the trapdoor and came out alive?" again, Stiltzkin nodded.

"What happened there?"

"Well, Kupo. I will tell you the story of that house. Years ago there was an attack on the mountains. Three moogles lived in that cottage. The mother and father, and their child. When the house was attacked the child was sent into the trapdoor. But the parents told her to only come out when they told her to. They were both killed in the attack. But the girl couldn't get out of the cellar. Anyway, the storms came, and the attack had caused a leak in the cottage. Water ran down through the larder, filling he cellar gradually. The child tried to escape, but the dampness in the cellar was slippery, from the dampness of the rock it was built in. She slipped when trying to open the trapdoor, and fell down the stairs. She broke her leg, and was unable to move. The waters crept higher, and she drowned. But her parents had told her she wasn't allowed to leave the cellar until they called. So she stayed there, preying on travellers who ventured down into the cellar, hearing her heartbreaking cries. She devoured their life for revenge against those who had left her in the cellar, and brought about her death. Any who get to near her ghost is doomed. You were lucky to escape. So, anyway Kupo, how long are you staying in town for?"

Stiltzkin didn't reply. The story was still stuck in his mind. He couldn't get over the fact that if he hadn't taken fright and ran for it, he may have never left that cellar. He shuddered slightly, vowing never to stray into derelict houses again.

THE END