Sarah Diemer - Once Upon a Hallows Eve: A Halloween Fairy Tale

Once Upon a Hallow's Eve: A Halloween Fairy Tale

by Sarah Diemer

Copyright 2011 Sarah Diemer

Kindle Edition

Stories often begin with Once upon a time, or Once there was--" charming lines that imply a fairy tale. Our story starts with wolves in the woods, and, by degrees, gets worse.

This tale, as you can imagine, is not the charming sort.

It begins in the Tangled Wood--that gnarled, nasty forest of hardened trees and whispered footfalls, where dark comes early and there are no paths--you have to make your way alone.

It also begins with a young woman, harvesting apples. The sun is setting, and she is a pretty thing with black curls and wine dark eyes and skin as sweet as moonshine. But none of these things matter in the Tangled Wood, the dangerous wood. She sings songs and she dances a little, balancing her basket, reaching for the harvest. Apples fall and darkness comes, yet she is not afraid.

Her name is Emmie, and she has grown tall and strong beneath the shadow of these trees, these myths. She is not afraid of the darkness, for it has never touched her. In the strange half land of her home, she has been raised to fear these woodsyet she has never heeded the warnings, and played beneath the trees even as they reached to touch her, black limbs haunting. For dark is attracted to light.

And the Tangled Wood is known for its darkness. Within its borders run all manner of clicking, clawing things: watchers and wanters that all good people fear. Once in a year, on All Hallows Eve, they are allowed to venture past the confines of the Tangled Wood and for a single night, darkness rules the world. But, by dawn, all dark creatures return, slinking deep into their shelters, taking the stars with them. For a call has commanded them to return, and they must obey it. They must obey him.

An apple falls from Emmies hand as a sound comes of bells and harness and carriage. And then he is there.

The Dark King rides in his dark carriage, drawn by his dark horses. Every day, at twilight, he takes this tour of his kingdom, though no one know why.
Emmie knows.

Every day, she comes to the woods at the darkening hour. Every day, she waits for him to come, and every day, as the procession passes her, she locks eyes with the one lone figure who stares out the carriage window

He looks lonely.

Of all dark creatures, he alone has the most cherished possession of their kind: a heart. It is a candle he keeps burning in the tallest tower of his palace, in a tiny crook in the wall. It never flickers, it never burns down, and in a place of so much darkness, darkness can not help but be attracted to the light. All dark creatures obey him and fear him, for he holds the key. Yet it does not comfort him.

So, every day, Emmie comes, and every day they gaze into eyes, foreign to one another, essentially different. It is a moment, a heartbeat but within that tiny mote of time, Emmie holds her breath and sends him love.

Emmie is a good girl, but Dark Kings are not what good girls should want. Each day she goes home to her ordinary little cottage and her ordinary little lifeand she dreams of more.

This day, this hour, she locks eyes with the King as she has done countless times before. Her gaze does not falter--nor does hisand then he is gone in the encroaching mist, swirling ghosts that devour the carriage until she hears only hoofbeats and then nothing more.

Emmie, comes a voice. She turns, and into the dimming light appears a great red wolf.
The wolf dances with her for a moment, cat and mouse, kith and kin, for of a sudden, the beast throws off her beastly form and becomes a woman, red hair long and lank down bony back, eyes bright and fevered. A werewolf.

It is good to see you, Scarlet. Emmie touches her friends face with warm fingers. But you look unwell

There is no time. The womans voice echoes, strained, harsh.

The dark comes as they sit upon the trampled ground, Emmies heart beating a rhythm too quick, too strong. There had been urgency in her friends voice. And fear.

If they knew I was here, they would kill me, whispers the wolfkin, glancing about wildly at the dark. It is for love of you that I have come this far. You must listen, Emmie.

She leans forward, sharp teeth bared. Hallows Eve is tonightand the dark creatures intend to break free of their prison and not return to the Tangled Wood.

Emmie frowns: That is impossible. It is law--all dark creatures must obey the Dark King!

Scarlets eyes furtively scan the trees before she dips closer. She smells of burning. There is one She has banded the dark creatures together against him She has a plan of ruin. They call her the Dark Lady.

So much darkness, Emmie sighs, rubbing her arms as a chill wind blows, creeping close to her form.

She has bewitched the Dark King, Scarlet whispers. I know not how, but his candle burns lower--his heart, Emmie. They say it will burn out tonight.

Emmie has listened carefully, but now her own heart beats cold, and she feels cold, and there is cold with long fingers, tracing her skin, freezing her spirit. Her breath comes out, and she can see it, dancing in the air like a ghost before it is gone, conquered by darkness.

Why have you come to me, Scarlet? she replies then, voice small.

I know you, Scarlet says, I know that you are the only soul who has ever loved him.

He does not even know me.

It matters not. The wolfkin is adamant, No one else in the world would mourn his passing. Which is why I have come to you.

Emmie looks down at her hands, small and white in the darkness. How could onelike mesave him?

I do not know, Scarlet replies, But I have come to ask you if you would try.

They had looked on one another, nothing more. But it doesnt matter. Not truly. Emmie gathers her cape and her basket (with its bread and its flask of milk, tucked safely in soft muslin) and takes some apples for safe keeping.

I will try, she says to Scarlet. And together, wolf and girl begin the journey.

~*~

Have you ever gone deep into the Tangled Wood? Scarlet asks. There is pure darkness all around them, and Emmie cannot walk. Hands before her were licked by thorns that clawed at her feet, at her cape.

No, answers Emmie, voice strained as a thorny vine bites about her wrist. She smells blood.

The Tangled Wood is dangerous to those not of the dark. And Scarlet steps forward. I will help you see.

Emmie stays very still as the Wolfkin bends her fine head. Lips brush her eyes, soft kisses flutter her lashes. They are warm.

Open, Scarlet whispers.

There is a different world.

Everything is black or white, shiny or dullten thousand shades of grey run rampant, but no color exists in this place. No matter. Emmie can now see in the dark

Its sobarren, says Emmie as they continue on their way, briars reaching, but too slow now. They step quickly.

Everything is shadow in this place, says Scarlet as she helps the girl down a hill. Only nightmares live here now. But they say it wasnt always this way.

I would believe it, Emmie whispers, staring up at a magnificent dead tree, limbs graceful and bare, cold and white.

I have known you since you were a child, Scarlet spreads her hands. I am known as a dark creature--but am I truly dark?

I do not believe you are, says Emmie to the werewolf.

Scarlet looks pleased, then smiles--it is tense and small, with little mirth, but it is enough.

The king has a candle for a heart, says Scarlet then. But some of us believe we all had candles, once. Vampires, werewolvesall dark creatures. We all had hearts. I like to think on it sometimes, when it gets too cold.

Emmie and Scarlet walk in silence, the only sound of Emmies blood, rushing, and the shift of feet on forest floor. Then, they hear it--a mournful cawing that echoes in the night. Stay close to me, whispers Scarlet, slipping into her lupine form.