Something about empty yarn factories relaxed me. Looking at the darkened room decorated with miles of cotton fibers stretched across the ceilings and the tall pillars of colored yarn, I felt a strange sense of belonging. Most people would equate the scene to that of a horror movie due to the maze of odd machines and the thin coat of stray fibers coating the floors. However, to me, there was no place where I felt more at home. The factory belonged to my father, and from the hours of eight in the morning to six in the evening, it was populated by ten or twenty workers carefully inspecting the machines that spun a very high quality organic cotton yarn made for mostly high-end fashions rather than the common amateur knitter. My dad said that the factory used to be one of the top yarn manufacturers in New York, but my mom convinced him to make only natural yarn, and after she died giving birth to me, he wanted to keep the business the same to honor her.
After everyone went home and the factory was abandoned, I would often come in and relax where I could truly be alone. For that short amount of time, all I had to worry about was whatever project I was currently knitting. One would think that a reasonable father wouldn't allow his sixteen year old daughter to aimlessly wander around in a place so full of dangerous and expensive machinery, but usually he was too busy to notice, and when he did notice, he was too busy to do anything about it. I never really worried about it, knowing that my presence there didn't really make a difference. I just sat on the floor and carefully created textiles. It was just me, little Mara Walker, in my own little world. What could possibly go wrong?
Little did I know, outside my bubble of seclusion, the world was just waiting to break in and take it away. The day when the world finally succeeded was an average day. It was summer, so I didn't have to go to school, which meant more time in the factory. This also meant that there would actually be people in the factory with me, which I did not prefer, but could deal with. My father saw my time at the factory as a way of me showing interest in the family business, but in reality, I had no interest. I knew that my career options were limited because of my dyslexia and ADHD, but I just imagined my life with more adventure.
This adventure came in the form of Cyrus, my blonde haired, blue eyed best friend. Cyrus had somewhat of a tragic life. The lovely couple that adopted him, Fiona and Joe Carter, had terrible luck with their adopted children. About every other year, one of Cyrus's siblings went missing to never be found again. They kept adopting more, hoping that the cruel cycle would end eventually. It didn't.
That night, he frantically ran into the factory, something that he didn't normally do. He was one of those who thought the factory was creepy. The fibers on the ground moved as he ran by, thickening the dark air.
"Nice of you to show up," I said as he slid to a stop trying to catch his breath. Part of me thought that he would deliver another irrelevant announcement, like the park had sno-cones at half price. Another part of me screamed that something very bad was happening.
"You know, you really should get a lamp or something in here," he nagged. "It's kind of depressing."
I was about to say something witty back, but then noticed blood trickling down his arm. "Are you ok?"
"Maybe?" he answered, still struggling to catch his breath.
"What happened?"
"I think Fiona has been killing my siblings."
"Why would you think that?" I asked, surprised. I had to admit that everyone thought that she was involved in the disappearances somehow, but I never thought Cyrus would realize it.
"It's a really long story," he started. I shot him a look saying 'well, you wouldn't be here if you weren't going to tell me.'
"Well, I was just minding my business when out of nowhere I see little Johnny being viciously attacked by Fiona. He tried to run away, but you and me both know he's not exactly athletic." He was right. Johnny was a little overweight. Actually, Johnny was a lot overweight. He was ten years old and about two hundred pounds. Pretty much everyone in Cyrus's family was overweight, all except Cyrus.
"Is he... you know..."
"Dead? No. Luckily, I was able to butt in before she could hurt him. But the thing is, her attention is set on me now, but I got away and ran straight here. I'm pretty sure I lost her."
"Think again," a pungent voice screeched from behind me. I turned around to see something that looked surprisingly not like Fiona. It's face was Fiona's face, but covered in fur and distorted by bulging eyes, a pug-like nose, and worst of all, menacing fangs. Talons first, ready to tear us to pieces, she flew forward-that's right, flew. On her back were two leathery bat wings propelling her towards us. What happened? I was pretty sure that I was hallucinating. I thought I probably inhaled too many yarn fibers, and needed to get out of the factory more.
"Run!" Cyrus yelled, and I wasn't going to argue. We ran through the factory, but wings are always faster than legs. The only reason we were still alive was that the factory wasn't the easiest to maneuver, and I knew it much better than Fiona did.
"You could have told me that she's, um.., that, whatever it is!" I scolded Cyrus as we slid under a barrier of stretched cotton fibers.
"Would you have believed me if I did?" Probably not. As soon as we got onto the other side of the fibers, I immediately regretted going that route. I planned on going into one of the supply rooms, but it was locked. We were basically trapped in a corner. Fiona flew straight through the fibers, smiling when she saw us out of options.
"Do you have any idea how disappointing it is to endure a child for sixteen years only to end up with him too skinny to enjoy eating? Oh well. I suppose both of you together will provide a meal satisfying enough." No way. I was not going to be eaten that day. As she lunged towards us, I looked around for any weapon-like object. Luckily, being next to the supply closet gave me a few options. Well, kind of. There was a crumpled up piece of paper, which I didn't think would do any damage, a ballpoint pen, which was better than a piece of paper, but not my weapon of choice for a monster attack, and a pair of scissors, which seemed like the most reasonable option.
I grabbed the scissors off of the floor quickly, then immediately threw them at her, hoping that they would connect and somehow delay my death, even if for only a short time. It was the next part that totally convinced me that I was dreaming. The scissors hit Fiona directly in her left eye, somehow causing her to turn into dust as the scissors fell to the ground with the millions of particles. I wasn't really sure what happened, but I had a feeling it was a good thing.
I looked at Cyrus, and it seemed like we were thinking the exact same thing. That thought was pure confusion. "How did you do that?" he asked.
"I don't know! I guess she's just really fragile." He nodded his head, disagreeing with me.
"Earlier, I tried to attack her with knives, but the knives didn't even cut her. She said something cryptic like, 'Your mortal weapons can't hurt me.' What does that even mean?" Mortal weapons? Opposed to what?
"Maybe since scissors aren't typically classified as a weapon, they worked? I don't know. We should probably call the police," I suggested, still disoriented and confused from the fight. I picked up the scissors and examined them. They were made entirely of some kind of bronze and seemed sharper than they needed to be. Something seemed special about them, and I decided to keep them close just in case something even stranger happened, if that was even possible.
"And say what? My mom turned into a monster, so I killed her? We'd be locked up." He had a point. I didn't believe what just happened, and I was actually there. We needed proof, but the body was gone, and the murderers were the only witnesses.
"Follow me," I instructed, walking away from the scene of the crime, luckily with a plan.
"Where are we going?" he asked.
"There are security cameras all over this place," I recalled. A video was just the proof we needed. "All of the footage is recorded in here."
"Are we allowed to be in here?" he asked, probably noticing the "Keep Out: Authorized Personnel Only" sign on the door to the security office.
"Nope," I responded, "but i'd choose trespassing over murder any day." He didn't disagree. We rewound the video and saw Fiona chasing us through the factory- human Fiona. When I killed her, the human body of Fiona dropped to the floor like a normal body would.
"Mara, that's not what you saw, right?" Cyrus asked, seeming just as surprised as I was.
"Not even close. This just gets stranger and stranger. Did she happen to say something before that might hint to what's going on here?"
"Not really," he said, trying to remember. Nothing made any sense anymore, and I was starting to panic. I just killed a person, who wasn't really a person, and the only evidence proving this was somehow tampered with.
"I just don't understand how-"
"Hello?" a voice interrupted me, coming from outside the security room. It was softer and less threatening than Fiona's, making me think it wasn't another monster, but I didn't want to take any chances. I looked to Cyrus, and he gave a nod signaling that we should find out who this person was. I grabbed the scissors and headed into the main area of the factory.
Standing in the factory was a girl fifteen or sixteen years old with a caramel colored braid of hair over her shoulder wearing a very fancy white sleeveless dress trimmed in gold. She didn't really look like she wanted to kill us, but there was definitely something off about her.
"Is there anyone here?" she asked, still looking around for us.
"Here," I announced, walking towards her, Cyrus close behind. "Can we help you?" She turned around to face us, carefully examining the two of us. Her dark, almond shaped eyes didn't look violent, but I knew her presence had to be connected with Fiona. Why else would someone be in an empty factory in the middle of the night alone?
"Sorry," she said sweetly, moving towards us. "I just heard a noise and wanted to make sure that everything was alright." She was lying. Why would a fifteen year old girl check on the little noise that we made? The factory was pretty secluded, and the fight was over more than ten minutes before she entered. I was disoriented after the events that happened before, but I wasn't that disoriented. I didn't know why she was there, but I wanted her gone.
I looked at Cyrus, and he wasn't buying her story either. "We're fine, but thanks for checking," he said, implying that she should leave with his intonation.
"That's good." Her voice was too sweet, too innocent. "I see you found my scissors. Thank goodness, I thought I lost them forever. Can I have them back?" Give this mysterious girl the only weapon that we knew killed monsters? No way. For all we knew, she could be just waiting to disarm us to try to devour us just like Fiona tried to. The girl reached for the scissors, expecting me to hand them over, but I moved the scissors away from her, signaling that I was not going to cooperate.
Cyrus gave me a look saying, "What are you doing? Just give her the scissors." I felt a wave of emotion pass over me screaming that these scissors were definitely not hers and that I shouldn't give them to her no matter what.
"This is private property, and I think you should leave," I demanded sternly. She looked incredibly irritated. Her nice girl act immediately faded.
"As you wish," she began with a smile creeping across her face. "But it sure would be a shame if your friend died." She gestured at Cyrus, then began to walk away slowly, expecting me to stop her. I knew she was a liar and I couldn't trust anything she said, so I vowed to let her leave just then. However, looking at Cyrus, I could tell that he knew that something was very wrong. He felt his bleeding arm with his other hand, then cringed in pain.
"Wait," I called. I didn't want to, but I couldn't put Cyrus in danger. She abruptly stopped, then turned back around to face us, looking a little too proud of herself. "What are you talking about?"
"Well, Fiona is-was- what we call a Keres. I assume you both are familiar with Greek mythology?" What was she talking about? I had a pretty open mind, especially after what just happened, but this just seemed too crazy. "No? Of course not. Long story short, when she scratched him, a deadly poison entered his bloodstream and has been slowly killing him ever since. Without treatment, he will be dead within the hour. I can heal him, but I only will if you give me the scissors."
"Why should we believe you?" Cyrus asked. He was trying to act like he was certain he would live a very long life, but I knew him too well to believe him. He was scared, and so was I. All I wanted was to give her the scissors and keep Cyrus safe, but I had a very strong feeling that if I did, we would all die, even though I didn't know who "we all" even were.
She opened her mouth to give another explanation, one I was sure would be filled with lies, but before she could, the lights jolted on, illuminating the factory. At the main entrance to the factory were three heads that I could barely see. The girl muttered something in another language under her breath then moved closer to Cyrus and I. She touched Cyrus's arm, causing the blood to disappear and the wound to heal. Why would she do that? Cyrus looked like he was hit with a wave of relief, and I guessed he was no longer about to die.
"If you say anything about what just happened, I will kill both of you as slowly and painfully as I can. Got it?" We both nodded, very confused about the girl's motives. The three heads got closer, revealing the bodies of a tall, handsome boy with jet black hair and bright sea green eyes, a girl with curly blonde hair and stormy gray eyes, and a shorter and younger boy with black hair and pale skin. Something told me that these people knew the girl threatening us, but didn't expect to see her there. The blonde one looked very annoyed, like she really didn't want to see this person, which seemed like a good sign. The tall one seemed to be in shock at seeing the girl, like she was an old friend he thought he would never see again. The pale one glanced past her and looked straight at Cyrus and me, probably trying to figure out how we fit into this messed up story.
"Calypso?" the tall one said, causing the girl to smile.
A/N There's chapter 1! Are you excited? I am! I love my concept for this story and can't wait to work on it! I have a general outline finished, but left a lot more room for creativity along the way than I usually do, so suggestions are appreciated! Can anyone guess godly parents yet? I think that it is obvious, but then again, I wrote it, so I may be biased. By the way, Calypso isn't going to be "evil" in this story, but she does have a good reason to be angry at the gods. Thanks for reading!