AN: OK so I'm lame and take forever to decide on things. But I thought about it and if I released one chapter per week I'd be updating this thing for the rest of the year. Given that the kindle and hardcover editions come out in just 24 more days from the time of this update (4/25/15), I think I can safely add an extra update per week. So this story will update on Wednesdays and Saturdays.

If you do not wish to wait until the final update is up sometime later this summer, fear not! Forgotten Melodies will be out on the kindle and in hardcover on 5/20/15, with further details to be announced soon.

It was two months shy of the boy's fourth birthday that his mother dragged him from the safety of the flat where he'd been born for only the third time in his life. A ragged burlap sack was pulled over his head, covering the most noticeable and terrible features of his deformity. The child had grown up knowing nothing else, only having been allowed to remove the sack from his head when eating.

Not a day had passed in his short life that his mother hadn't made it abundantly clear that he was an unwanted trial put upon her to make her a better person. Even if that was what she truly believed, it wasn't enough to convince her to put forth any effort past the bare minimum to keep the child from dropping dead. It was only by accident that the child had begun to learn to speak, and it had happened more than a year after most children began experimenting with mimicking what they heard. The delay, rather than serving as a testament to her failures as a mother, was proof to her that the boy was stupid as well as hideous.

The boy walked in silence with his mother, who reached out to shove him forward from time to time but otherwise wouldn't touch him or even deign to speak to him. Knowing that it was better to please her, the boy tried his hardest to keep up with his mother. Though he was quite tall for a four year old, his mother could walk far faster and was far more coordinated. He stumbled along beside her as best he could, though, until they approached a small encampment on the outskirts of the city.

Unlike the people they had passed on the street, who were well-dressed and pleasantly scented, the people in the encampment were caked in a layer of dirt that rivaled the dirt coating the small boy. Seeing this, the woman hesitated. Can I really go through with this? She wondered as she eyeballed the dingy, formerly white tarps that made up the tents and covered their wagons. Is this really the best option I have?

The boy who stood beside her was enraptured by the sights and sounds. Though the burlap sack covered most of his face, a look of pure wonder was plainly visible to the woman. As they approached the largest tent near the center of the encampment, she wondered idly how long he would be able to hold on to that sense of wonder.

Just outside of the tent, she stopped and turned to face the boy. He looked up at her expectantly, his amber eyes wide and filled with questions he had no way to voice. The most pressing of those being where are we?

"You will wait for me here," she said. "You will speak to no one and you will not move. Do you understand?"

The boy nodded furiously and stood a little straighter. His eagerness to please even now brought tears to her eyes. She turned away from him quickly and refrained from wiping her eyes until she had entered the tent.

It was decorated lavishly in gold and precious gemstones. There wasn't a space that met her eye without at least one sparkling trinket in view.

"They tell me you have a child you wish to sell," said a man with a thick accent she couldn't quite identify. The carnies and freaks of the traveling shows that passed through London all seemed to have the same strange accent, but his was the strongest she had ever heard.

The man parted curtains made of fine blue and gold silk and entered the main of the tent. He stood head and shoulders taller than Elissa and his skin was several shades darker than her milky white. The space between his shoulders was nearly twice as wide as the space between her own, and unlike all the other people she'd encountered on those grounds he was impeccably groomed. There was not a speck of dirt on him. Even the dirt he kicked up from the ground with each step seemed to land everywhere but upon his skin.

"I— I do," she said, stumbling over her words as she studied the man. His eyes were an intense shade of amber, similar to the boy's.

"And why exactly should I be interested in purchasing your brat?" the man asked, crossing his arms across his chest. The rich purple fabric of his shirt seemed to fold over effortlessly, and she was certain that when he moved once more there wouldn't be a single wrinkle to be found. "You have seen the squalor of my people. What have I to share with your child?"

"He is no ordinary child," Elissa said quickly. "Please, you need only see him to understand."

"I trust you've brought him with you, then?"

She nodded and glanced back at the entrance to the tent. "If you will excuse me, I will be but a moment."

A look of amusement reached his eyes as he gestured for her to do what she needed to do, and she turned on her heel and hurried back out of the tent. The boy was standing precisely where she left him. He looked at her expectantly as she approached.

"Come with me," she said, taking one of his small hands in her own. The boy flinched, bristling at her touch. "Now," she added coldly as she pulled him along. He tripped over his own feet as she dragged him into the tent, only righting himself as she pushed him out in front of the man she'd been speaking with.

"This is the child you wish to sell?" he asked, the look of amusement melting from his face as quickly as it had appeared. "This is not worth the food it would take to keep it alive!"

"Remove the bag from his head and tell me that he is not worth your money."

The man looked at her, confused by her words. For a long moment, all three people in the main of the tent were silent and still. As the man leaned down and reached for the bag that covered the boy's face however, the boy let out a strange, animalistic howl that was unlike any noise Elissa had heard him make since his infancy.

The man jumped back, eyes wide, the hand he hadn't extended to remove the bag from the boy's head now resting on the hilt of a heavily ornamented blade that was sheathed at his waist. The boy hadn't moved, and the sound he'd made stopped the second that the man's hand was safely away from the bag that covered his face.

"I'm— I'm sorry, I've never seen him do that before," Elissa said. "He hasn't made that sound since he was but a babe—"

"I have no interest in a howling child."

"Sir, please—"

"There is no use here for him."

"Sir—"

"Madame, I must ask you to leave and take your spawn with you." The man withdrew his blade and pointed it at her. "I will not entertain this attempt at thievery—"

"Thievery?" Elissa shrieked, her eyes wide and filled with a mix of fear and anger. "A child reacts unexpectedly and your first suspicion is thievery?" She turned her attention to the child. "Come. Now."

The boy did as he was commanded and turned to face his mother, inching closer to her until he was almost on top of her feet. She held her hand out expectantly to him. "Uncover yourself." The boy looked up at her, his eyes wide and fearful. He made no move to remove the sack from his head, however. Elissa raised her other hand and slapped him. The boy stumbled and fell to the ground, but did not cry out or reach up to comfort his cheek. Instead, he continued to stare at his mother, silently pleading with her to not make him remove the dingy mask.

"Uncover yourself," she repeated. "Do not presume that you can continue to waste my time or his." She gestured to the man who still had his blade pointed to her. "Remove the sack from your head now or you shall wish I never allowed you life!"

The boy's lower lip quivered and his hands trembled as he reached up and took the rough, itchy fabric in his fists. One more pleading look to his mother and he did as he was told. The air inside the tent was cool and dry against the overheated, sweaty sin of the boy's face.

His mother looked down at him and made no effort to hide her disgust. "This child is not worth your time or money?" she asked defiantly as she took him by the arm and turned him round to face the man. The man's blade fell to the ground with a clatter as his eyes beheld the corpse-like features of the toddler.

"What sorcery is this?" the man demanded. "That is no child!"

"This child is borne of my body," Elissa said. "A monster I have been saddled with to answer for my sins. I cannot afford to keep it. But in a traveling show such as yours, think of the money it could bring! Come and see the living corpse! The demon chid of London!" Her words were thick with the venom of a thousand told-you-so's and her gaze upon the man who now seemed terrified of the child that clung nervously to her skirts bore the nearly four years of anger and frustration through which she had endured the child's existence.

"I… Of course, I can offer you a fine sum for the child," the man said after a long, awkward silence. His eyes never once left the boy's face as he backed up until he bumped into an ornate desk made of dark wood. He had to fish around one of the drawers for many minutes before locating a small purse filled with coins. For a few moments, he held the purse in his palm, weighing it against the visions of silver and gold that danced in his head at the sight of one so delightfully deformed. "But how do I know he will not fall over dead from starvation after you take your leave?"

"It's been thin as a corpse since it was born," Elissa explained, nudging the boy forward so the man could get a better look. "It doesn't sleep much, but has an appetite the likes of which I've never seen. I'm certain it will not die of starvation in your care, unless you actively plan on starving it."

For the first time since the child's face was uncovered, the man looked back to the woman who stood before him. He thought about it for a few moments longer before tossing the purse over to her. "I think you'll find that to be quite enough money to pay for him," he said as she opened it and dumped a few coins into her hand.

She nodded and quickly hid the purse down her bodice, where it rested beneath her breast.

"I shall take my leave then," she said, meeting the man's eyes one last time. "I trust I shall not see you again."

"Should you find yourself interested in the welfare of your child, you'll find tickets to our humble show quite affordable—"

"That will not be necessary, thank you," Elissa said. She looked down at the small child, who was looking at her over his shoulder and was unable to contain her look of disgust. "I shall be glad to be rid of this cursed beast. Good day, sir."

She lowered herself ever so slightly, pulling her skirt out in a caricature of the curtseys that noblewomen bid noblemen upon taking their leave. The man bid her a low bow as she hurried out of the tent without so much as a single glance back.

The boy, upon the exit of his mother, turned to give chase. He made it to the entrance of the tent before the man caught him roughly by the upper arm and dragged him back. "Oh no, my pet. I think you'll find there's nothing for you out there. You belong to me now."

The boy gave a confused grunt as he struggled against the man's grasp, but his short limbs and limited strength was no match for the man who held him.

"Mama," he whined, reaching out for the opening he'd watched his mother disappear through. The man laughed.

"So you are capable of speech! Delightful! A living, speaking corpse for my collection. You will be a star, child; my most prized possession."

The boy couldn't understand a word the man said, but somehow he knew that nothing good was coming for him. He wished desperately for his tattered sack to cover his face.