Disclaimer: I don't own "Rise of the Guardians" or "The Guardians of Childhood." That would be freakin' sweet, but no. Also, I make no monies from this fic.

Author's Note: My mind is truly a terrible thing. I thought about what it must be like to be turned into a Fearling and this happened. 13 one-shots of different children all over the world at different times and places getting turned into dark, awful creatures. Pitch takes them without mercy, for he is the Nightmare King, the Boogeyman, and evil incarnate in a way I don't think the movie quite made clear. I'm going to rectify that problem.

#1

New York, United States of America, 1876

Liam glared at the sign on the factory's employee door: "IRISH need not apply." After he spat on the ground, Liam turned on his heel, walking back into the alleyway from whence he came. Scratching at his lice infested ginger head, Liam ignored the growling of his stomach. His ma would be right pissed if he stole anything today, so he abstained from pilfering an apple off the fruit cart.

Liam's ma worked days and nights, by day in a factory and at night on the streets. Liam came home for supper, the only real meal they could afford. The sun was setting as Liam made his way home. Shadows casted strange illusions along the alleyway walls. The nine year old gulped down his nervousness. He repeated to himself over and over again, 'I ain't afraid. I ain't afraid.'

When he got to the run down five story brick housing he called home, Liam let out sigh of relief. He quickly ran through the front door and tromped up the stairs, giving a small shout of, "Hi!" to the landlord before he went on his way. The landlord grumbled something back before he went back to sweeping the floor.

Liam called out as he opened their door. "Ma! I'm home!"

Silence greeted him back. Liam frowned. The church bells rang in the distance, chiming for five, dinnertime. Liam looked around the tiny one room they shared. "Ma?" Liam turned back around to search the hallway. Miss Larson smoked a cigarette near the window at the end of the hall, but no sign of his mother.

Liam called out, "Miss Larson! Have you seen my ma?"

Miss Larson puffed out some smoke as she shook her head. "Ain't seen 'er all day, lad."

Liam nodded. "Go raibh maith agat!"

"Tá fáilte romhat." Miss Larson said with a disinterested grimace.

Liam walked back inside the apartment, closing the door softly behind him. As he walked forward, Liam noticed that things had been moved. Liam felt a punch to his stomach when he saw the drawers slightly opened on her side, revealing emptiness within them. Liam's dashed to look under the bed, flinging his ma's knitted quilt out of the way.

No bag. Only a dusted outline of one. Liam let out a small whimper. "No." The child stood up, walking over squeaky floorboards to a corner of the room. With his fingernails, Liam popped open a little compartment in the wall. An empty coffee can made Liam start sobbing.

"Ma! Mama! No! Please!" Liam curled up into a ball, as if to shield himself from the awful truth.

She left him. Alone. In the dark. 'What do I do? Where do I go?' Liam thought, 'What will happen to me? Why? Am I such a bad boy? Ma, come back! I need you!'

"Poor, poor boy."

Liam gasped. He flung himself against the wall. A black robed man stood in the center of the room. Harsh yellow eyes stared down at Liam. "Abandoned by your mother. How sad." The man stepped towards him.

Liam stuttered out, "H-How d-did you g-get in?" The door was still closed. Liam would've heard it open and shut, right?

The man chuckled. "I came in with the night."

Liam did not like the sound of that. "Listen, I don'na know who ya think ya are, but Ah'm not interested in wha'ever you're sellin'." Liam bit his lip. His accent came out a little thick when he got scared.

"Now, now." The man held out a grey hand. "Your fear is understandable."

"Níl eagla orm!" Liam shouted.

The man chuckled. "Oh, but I think you are, little Liam." He walked forward, grinning with teeth sharp as razors. "After all, it's not every day the Boogeyman himself comes calling."

"The Boogeyman?" Liam's clutched his chest in horror, grasping at the cross his mother gave him so many years ago. "Stay back!"

The man quirked a brow. "I am no demon, child." He stalked ever forward. "I am made of fear and darkness."

Liam gritted his teeth as he stood up. "I won't let you take me!" Liam kept a hand clutched to his chest.

"Oh," the monster flicked a wrist, conjuring an apple in his hand, "I think you will."

Liam froze at the sight of the apple. Unconsciously, Liam licked his lips. The Boogeyman stretched out his hand, bringing the apple closer to Liam.

"Hunger feeds fear so well." The Boogeyman said, "Go on. Take a bite."

Liam shook his head, even as he took his hand off his cross to lift it up. "It's wrong."

The Boogeyman smirked. "I imagine that wrong can taste so sweet to a starving child."

Liam stepped forward, hand trembling. "I shouldn't." Tears fell down his cheeks. "It's a trick."

"Of course it is, dear boy." The Boogeyman huffed with amusement as Liam took the apple from his hand. "But you don't care anymore, do you?"

Liam held the luscious rosy fruit in both his hands. With a broken sob, he said, "No."

The Boogeyman nodded as Liam bit into the skin. "They never do."

Liam whimpered as the panic consumed him. Every bit of his flesh, every beat of his heart, twisted, warped, crashed into nightshade. Liam dropped the apple onto the floor. It shattered into a thousand inky mirror pieces. The shadows crawled out from underneath the bed, between the cracks in the floorboards, each and every one whispering a terrible welcome to the fold. Liam shook his head in denial, but he knew it was too late.

The Boogeyman grinned down at him, stepping forward to wrap his arms around Liam in a mockery of a father's embrace. "What a darling little fearling you've become."

Liam yowled, not screamed as he intended. A chorus of yowls responded to his own. The Boogeyman threw his head back in vicious laughter. With a faltering consciousness, Liam tried to plead to let him go back to being a boy, for mercy from this cruel fate. Instead, the Boogeyman tilted his chin up to look at him in the eyes.

Liam fell into the piercing gaze, forgetting everything.

Fearlings do not love. Fearlings do not care.

In forgetting he was a boy, Liam forgot his heart. No longer did anything beat in his chest.

Fearlings scare. Fearlings feed on fear.

Ginger locks transformed into black ethereal tangles. Pale skin darkened to dense grey emptiness.

Fearlings are fear.

Legs dissolved, arms shriveled, and green eyes turned to striking yellow.

"I am Pitch Black, your Nightmare King. Obey me."

The Fearling grinned. 'Of course, master.'

Historical Notes:

1876 was a harsh time for children in New York, especially children in Irish families. All too often, stores posted signs "Irish Need Not Apply" in blatant discrimination against anyone from Ireland. Youths were often abandoned by parents simply too overburdened with trying to survive in these awful conditions. Even though child labor was an extremely popular trend among factories, the stigma attached to the Irish prevented even the children from getting jobs. I figured a Boogeyman would have ample feeding ground here for making new fearlings.

Translation Notes:

Gaelic - English

Go raibh maith agat- Thank you

Tá fáilte romhat- You're welcome

Níl eagla orm- I'm not afraid

Please review! (Also if you wish to correct my Gaelic, please do. I researched and double checked it, but if I'm wrong anyway, let me know).