Blood

“Spirits, be damned. Your little brat is annoying, ain’t he?” Says the faerie as he trudges through the snow with me slung over one shoulder and his opposite hand guiding Sean by the back of the neck.

I don’t wanna die, I think. I really don’t wanna die.

But why else would we be going into Wanderer’s Wood if not to die?

“Oh love, I ain’t gonna kill you. You’re far too lovely for that.”

I almost scream. He’s in my head. It’s in my head. But I don’t. What good would it do?

I try to struggle against the faerie’s loose grasp on my waist, but I can’t move. He’s done something to me. Paralysed me.

I can’t do anything. I’m helpless. And it’s cold. So, so cold.

“Don’t wanna talk to me?” The faerie asks after a moment of no human noise but Sean’s whimpering. I wish so desperately that I could make it better for him.

I wish even harder that his whimpering and feet in the snow was the only sound, but every step we take brings the clearer and more definitive music of the fey, tormenting in how beautiful it is as it spills through the woods.

The faerie sighs. “That’s fine. I can talk on my own. My name’s Domhnall, if you were wondering. Doubt you were. I mean, but in case you did…”

He drones on, making pleasant chatter as he carries me deeper into the Wood. Deeper into the music, dragging Sean along with us.

What’s worse is the louder the music gets, the less I care about anything. It begins to lull me to sleep. And so I fall asleep with the sounds of my death all around me.