I must ask whether anyone knows if there are any male authors in this site. I keep coming across female authors. Surely there must be some boys out there who enjoy writing. I know plenty that are at my school but they're not part of this website. I just wondered, really… So, if you are a boy author (or you know one on this website) and you're reading this, review now or send me a private message and let me know. I'm just curious is all.

Chapter 9

The Devil's Child

Nobody moved. The silence was as heavy as the air before a storm, and like a storm there was a short calm before the thunder cracked. A boy gave a shout and ran into one of the tents. Several nearby girls shrieked and hid behind their mothers. The people, who had been standing or sitting around, ignoring the boys fighting suddenly looked up and stared, wide-eyed with horror.

The girl on top of me jumped up and backed away fearfully. I slowly brought myself out of the mud. My arm hurt terribly but I don't think I was seriously hurt. The weight of all the frightened and horrified stares pinned me down, fixing me to the spot. I didn't even cover my face with my hand or my hair. There was not a sound, not a single whisper. I took several deep breaths to calm my nerves.

I raised my hands in front of me as a signal of friendship. More than a few of the flinched. "I will not harm you," I told them. "Please, I just want shelter, maybe some food. Is that so much to ask for…?" the silence grew, if possible, denser. Then the young woman who had told my future mere moments ago took a step forward, her eyes full of awe, and asked,

"what are you…?"

"I am human," I said. "The same is you," I gestured around me at the many wide-eyed faces. I was about to say more, but I was interrupted by a thickset man with skin so dark, it seemed like black velvet.

"No, He's nothing like us! He cannot be human!"

"I assure you, I…"

"He's a monster!" yelled an old crone.

"Please…" I begged.

A baby began to bawl loudly. A little boy, three or four years younger than me, shouted, "look, mommy! Look at his face!" His mother ignored him, screaming over him, "burn him! Burn him and feed the ashes to the dogs!"

Another woman took up the cry, and another. "Burn him! Burn him!"

"No!" I pleaded. "I just…"

My arms were grabbed from behind and a tall man with a dozen nose piercings and muscles like an ox yanked me off my feet. My hands were bound with thick cutting rope behind me. I struggled hopelessly, grappling with the man who held me, but it was no use. He picked me up and shook me like a rag doll. I kicked and squirmed, succeeding in hitting him in the stomach. I got a knock on the head for that, leaving me dazed and confused. I kept fighting nonetheless.

A long hard wooden object flew through the air. There was a sickening crack and I knew no more.

XXX

I awoke sore and aching. My head throbbed violently and I groaned miserably. I was in a standing position with my hands held over my head and my feet bound. I looked up; wincing in the bright sunlight to see my wrists tied with thick rope, cutting mercilessly into my flesh. My gentlemen's clothes hung off me, little more than rags now. I was tied to a post in the middle of a clearing in the tents. No one seemed to be about. I flexed my fingers and toes and struggled against the ropes vainly. I hung my hair, letting my hair fall in front of my eyes. The sun beat down hard and I could feel my back and neck burning painfully.

I didn't waste my breath calling for help. Who would help this demon stung up by his wrists to a wooden pole? A figure, tall and young walked into the clearing and stood in front of me. I raised my head wearily. It was Joey. He leaned forward until he was right up close to me and whispered, "is there anything you want before you die?"

The question startled me out of my stupor. "What…?" I gasped. My voice was so weak I could barely make any sound above a whisper. "You're not… really going… to kill me… are you?"

He shrugged. "I cannot stop them. When they make up their minds about something like this, then that's that. But I could make you a little more comfortable before it happens." He smiled sweetly at me. I should have been suspicious even then but I was so hungry and weak I could barely think straight. The blaring sun didn't help.

"Water…" I begged. I licked my lips, my throat parched and burning. "Please… water…"

He smiled an evil smile and left. I frowned. If he wanted to make me more "comfortable", then why didn't he untie me and help me into some shade. He came back with a bucket of steaming liquid. My eyes widened in alarm as I realised far too late what he was about to do.

He threw the piping hot water, soaking me and burning me. I yelped and squirmed against the post. It was not boiling so the pain subsided quickly, but I glared at him coldly. This was only a front for the hurt and despair I felt inside. He laughed nastily and ran off, leaving me dripping and shivering slightly as the water cooled.

It wasn't long before I was shuddering with the chill. Goosebumps irrupting up my arms. The sun did little to warm me now and I began to sneeze, each cough causing my whole body to tremble. I could barely feel my arms any more and I certainly couldn't feel my hands. I am not ashamed to say that I almost cried then, hitched up there like a scarecrow. However, I say almost.

It was a long time before they came for me. Night had fallen and I was drifting in and out of conscienceless. It was a blessing to black out and not feel the pain in my limbs and the bruises on my ribs, though I was always slightly paranoid I would never open my eyes again. They were carrying flickering torches that illuminated the menacing hunger in their eyes. Some men laid down stacks of dry sticks and firewood. Men I had walked with only this morning.

Fear began to bubble up inside me and I began to panic. "Please!" I cried in blind terror. "Do not… do this…! I have… done nothing… to you…!" My voice was still a shrill croak in my bone-dry throat.

"Liar!" yelled the fortune-teller. The very same which had told my future only hours ago, I was sure. "Don't listen to him!" she shrieked. "He'll cast a spell on all of us!"

I shrank back from the flare of the torches.

"Let the burning begin!!" cried Joey triumphantly.

"No!" The fortune-teller caught his torch mere inches from the firewood. "He must not be burned."

Several of the gypsies groaned loudly. Joey's grandmother called, "Not this again! He's a demon, we all know your tarot cards are as fake as my love potions!"

"No!" she repeated, standing in front of me with her arms outstretched. "Not this time. This time was different. I saw his future, I as sure of it. He picked the sun, which reveals all. That's how he could not hide his secret for long. However," she continued despite many sceptical looks, "he is also protected by the angel. If you harm this boy, then the wrath of God shall come and smite you all!"

I blinked, not sure was to do. There was a murmur of whispers through the crowd, not all of them sceptical this time. Many blessed themselves hurriedly, muttering prayers. "If what you say is true," said a man near the front, "then we are damned if we kill him, but this creature is obviously the spawn of Satan. So even if there is no truth in what your silly cards say, then we will be hunted and killed by all the devils minions because we had slain his only son!"

At this there were a lot more prayers being said and a flurry of hands as more people crossed themselves. I looked up hopefully. I saw the girl who had fought me, Cecilia, panic and hide behind her mother. If it were any other situation, I would have laughed at her. It would serve her right to live in fear of the devil's minions after she had beaten me!

"Then what do you suggest we do?" asked someone from the back. The fortune-teller looked around at the fearful faces and pondered on my fate.

"We could lock him up…?" she said.

"Nah!" scoffed Joey. "He would take up too much room."

I highly doubted that but I was far too tired to make comment. At any rate, my intuition told me it would be much wiser to stay silent.

"Then we'll make him pay for it!" she shouted over the din of the arguing crowd. "Sell tickets to see the "devil's child"! We can make a spectacle out of him!"

At last I found my voice. "No!" I yelped as loud as I could. "Please… anything… but that…!"

"Would you rather be burned?" the fortune-teller hissed at me. I hung my head. It seemed I had no choice whatsoever. They took axes and cut me down, letting me drop heavily to the muddy ground rather than catching me. Two tough men held me under my arms and dragged me, my legs snaging painfully on stones or cracks because I was too weak to walk.

The last thing I saw before they threw in a cage was the sign above it. Someone had hastily taken a splintered plank of wood and fixed it onto the bars of the cage. It was covered in spiked blood-red letters that I later learned said;

"The Devil's Child!"

XXX

Sorry it took me so long to update. I just couldn't find the time, what with school, homework, music practise, drawing, other books, etc. Thank you so much for all you're lovely reviews. thank you especially to Eriks White Rose. She's been keeping Erik company while he tell us his woeful tail of misery and dispair. You enspire me, thank you so!

Erik - Yes, thank you. I would much rather be kidnapped by you that the Phantom of Quill and Ink. You're so much kinder... Wait a moment... ponders with an evil look of glee on his face Are you a good singer? 'Cause if you want to i could arrange a kidnap - er, i mean singing lesson - for you... cough cough...!

Me - Now, now, Erik. No kidnapping people unless they are your property.

Erik - i'm not your property and yet you have kidnapped me!

Me - That's not the point! Just because i don't own you doesn't mean... Oh shut up!