THE CUCKOO’S EYES
BY
HOLLY CAMPBELL
FAOLAN
1579
The first thing I became aware of was the sound. It was a peculiar sound that at first I mistook for water lapping a distant shore. As I became more present, the noise grew more distinct and I was able to identify it. Whispering of many people all at once, overlapping one another.
I opened my eyes slowly, a soft groan escaping my lips. My throat burned and a dull ache had spread through my arms, which had been pulled upwards and bound at the wrists. My legs dangled uselessly beneath me, limbs deadened. My clothes had been stripped away and the bitter night air clawed at my exposed flesh eagerly.
It took me a moment to fully register my surroundings. I was in a clearing, surrounded by a perfect circle of silver birch trees, branches stretching out to entwine above my head forming a makeshift roof. Strange objects hung down from the canopy and a flat rock had been set in the centre to serve as a table. Candles were dotted around, wax pooling around the bases, the flames dancing wildly. I tugged at my bindings, the ropes tightening around my wrists at the movement.
“Our guest has awoken I see,” said a soft voice from the darkness. I squinted through the flickering candle light, straining to separate the shape from the flickering shadows. Two figures stepped into view, separating themselves from the gloom.
“Maeve…” My eyes went to the youngest of the pair. She was naked, body painted with crude symbols but I knew every inch of her on sight. Her pale blonde hair tumbled down her back, interwoven with petunias, yellow hyacinths and sprigs of coriander. Her mother, Cessair, stood beside her. Her hair was dark like a crow’s feather, but beyond that she was almost a mirror of her child. I averted my eyes instinctively, lowering them to the ground.
“Such a gentleman. Even now.”
The two women moved forward, Cessair coming to kneel before the stone while Maeve approached me, unbinding my arms from the tree they were tethered to. I struggled fiercely as she pulled me forward like an unruly dog, guiding me towards the stone.
“Be still!”
“Let go of me!”
“Maeve, bind him to the altar. And be quick, we don’t have much time.”
Despite my struggles, the woman pushed me to the ground, my head roughly striking the flat of the stone. My arms were forced out in front of me and tethered to a stake imbedded on the other side. The pair worked in tandem, stretching my limbs out until I was spread-eagled across their altar. I let out an angered cry, trying to ignore the throbbing in my head and the trickle of blood that had begun to flow. The ropes they used were strange handmade creations spun from ivy and brambles, cutting into my tender skin.
The two women, now satisfied that I could not flee turned their attention to other things. I craned my neck to catch sight of what they were doing but they stayed hidden, with the darkness only faltering momentarily to offer me a glimpse of an arm, a hank of hair, the scaled hide of a serpent.
“Let me go!” I howled, pulling at my ropes despite the pain it caused me.
“My love, be still. It will do you no good to fight,” whispered Maeve’s voice in my ear.
I felt soft fingers running across my back, accompanied by a sensation of dampness as a cool fluid was dripped on me. Maeve moved into sight, lifting my chin so my eyes met hers. For a moment I thought I saw a flicker of remorse within her expression as she rubbed the pad of her thumb against my cheek. She opened her mouth to speak but seemed to think better of it. Instead she pried my mouth open and placed a bowl to my lips, tipping the contents down my throat. It was thick and bitter accompanied by a searing pain. I spluttered, trying to spit out the wretched liquid, but Maeve clamped hold of my mouth forcing me to swallow.
Only once had I drained every drop did she release me, jerking backwards like she had been touching something foul.
“Are you sure that this will work mother?”
“Of course. I have seen it done once before. My mother performed it, although of course she used swans for her incantation.”
Their words meant little to me. A strange numbness had begun to infiltrate my body, taking over every molecule of my person. The world grew hazy, the shadows lengthened. The two women moved to kneel before me but they were no longer people to me, just shapes that twisted back and forth like smoke on the breeze.
A lyrical chanting weaved in and out of the trees, seeming to come from everywhere and nowhere at once.
“Mother Macha we call to you. Mother Morrigan we call to you. We your children invite you in to this sacred space. Join us here this night.”
Cold wind whisked across the clearing, rustling the branches. The flames of the candles flared up, blinding what little vision I had.
“You who watch over us, you who guide us and protect us, we beseech you to help us. Avenge your daughter who has been wronged.” I made out the shape of the two women, holding something similar to a piece of cloth between them. “Light of day and dark of night, cold winds’ kiss and fires’ bite. Petals of a yellow rose for a girl whose heart he froze, along with those of dahlias red for the bitter lies he spread. Robin’s feathers for the bride and for he, black wolf hide. Bind him to the earth below, for eternity he shall reap that which he did sow.”
Something warm and heavy was placed across my back, damp to the touch. I looked up desperately and the face of Maeve came into focus. I tried to plead with her but no words came out. My tongue felt heavy and useless, struggling to form even the simplest of sentences.
“Bride and children must be bled, upon the earth their blood be shed. Upon this day, the Gods will see his lessons learned and to him his life will be returned.”
A slow tingling began to spread across my skin, beginning at my toes before rising up to conquer the rest of me.
“Untie him. He is too far gone to be of any threat,”
I felt rather than saw the bonds being loosened and as they were, I tried to rise to my feet. The moment I put weight on them however they gave way and I collapsed to the floor once more. I shifted into a crouch slowly, my head swimming as I did. The tingling had transformed into an itch, an all-consuming sensation that was accompanied by the urge to tear at my own skin.
A deafening howl split the forest, echoing through the trees. Pain ripped through my left leg accompanied by a sharp crack. I twisted awkwardly as my foot jerked to the side of its own accord, the bone snapping abruptly. Before I could make sense of what had happened, the process repeated. I stared in horror at my leg as I came to see that the bones were visibly rearranging themselves, jutting out against the skin for moments before breaking, shifting, repairing and then breaking again. Similar things had begun to take place on the other leg and soon both feet were held at impossible angles, fused in such a way that I could no longer lay them flat.
A tremor suddenly jolted through me, sending me sprawling into the mud where it was quickly followed by a rapid succession of smaller ones. My legs were twisted, malformed and I could feel my skin rippling, the bones creaking underneath.
There was another break, my spine splintering and contorting my bare form. I wrapped my arms around my torso unable to do anything to resist. I felt my skin bulging beneath my hands as my ribs began to slide into new positions, bile rising up my throat as it did. I tried to crawl forward, abandoning any thoughts of running, digging my nails into the mud. The itching was intense, like a thousand bugs were gnawing at me. My knees locked, holding my legs in a rigid position and I felt a raw agony at the base of my back. I twisted my head to see an unsightly protrusion growing, my spine lengthening. My stomach felt like a noose was tightening around it, preventing me from breathing. Every inhale was a struggle, my windpipe twisting unbearably as I tried to suck in
as much oxygen as possible.
The malevolent force that had taken control of me continued its assault upon my body. My fingers began to knit together, webbing and merging until my hands were replaced by shapeless masses at the end of my arms. The skin twitched and moved like something was crawling around underneath it. My shoulders suddenly rotated backwards and locked into place, my elbows locked like my knees holding me into an animalistic stance on all fours. The itching grew worse and a prickling sensation started at the tip of my elongated spine.
The changes were happening faster now, unfaltering as each part of my body in turn was subjected to the torture. I thrashed as my body was contorted one way and another. My hair began to fall from my head in clumps. My limbs splayed awkwardly; my skin stretched and tore. My hands, or what remained of them, began to split, taking on a new shape. Sharpened bones poked out at random intervals, curling like claws. My hair had completely gone now and the skin beneath was peeling away.
Short hair began to sprout along my arms, rising up until my chest and shoulders were covered in a tawny brown covering. My skin felt false like a mask, falling away to reveal more of the fur. Desperate to finish this torment, my clumsy paws began tearing at the skin that remained.
My jaws began to stretch, my teeth grew to sharp fangs that dug into my cheeks. My skin pulled back, exposing the carnage in my mouth as I bit into my own gums. I tasted hot blood, bitter and salty. I tried to hold my mouth open, to limit the damage but it was nearly impossible with this deformed, unfinished muzzle. I spat blood, choking on it.
My arms became clamped to my side, restricting my already limited movement to next to nothing. My neck grew, extending a little and thickening. It stiffened into place, holding my head up in an unnatural arched position.
I tried to call for help but it just came out as a series of barks and snarls. The animal was taking over, stealing my voices and taking my mind.
I prayed for death, I prayed to pass out, I prayed for any relief from this hell.
But there was nothing.
Only pain.
I screwed my eyes shut, trying to bury myself deep into the depths of my mind where it couldn’t hurt me. I could feel the animal surfacing, seizing control. I invited it, opening myself up to it. I wanted to lose myself, strip myself bare and remove every shred of who I was until I couldn’t think and couldn’t feel anymore.
BROUGHT IN BY THE STORM
BLAIR
School corridors always seemed to have the same smell. A cacophony of grease, liberal amounts of body spray, sweat and cleaning products that never quite managed to take the edge off. I rested my head back against the wall, gazing up at the stained ceiling panels. My shoes scuffed the floor, the hard plastic chair creaked with every miniscule movement.
A few students walked passed and I could feel them staring at me. I grimaced, the movement agitating my split lip and sending a rivulet of blood running down my chin. The door to the headmaster’s office opened and I heard his voice call my name. Reluctantly I headed inside, settling myself across the desk from him.
“Miss Cleary,” he began.
“Mr Beckett,” I responded. He raised an eyebrow, hesitating for a moment before continuing.
“Miss Cleary, you’ve not been with us very long yet you’ve been involved in numerous incidents of misbehaviour already. We have allowed you a little leeway given your situation, which we are of course sympathetic to, but this latest occurrence we cannot overlook. We have a zero tolerance for violent behaviour at this school.”
“Well in that case why aren’t Connor and his Neanderthals sitting here? They were just as violent.”
“I will be speaking with everyone involved, however I am very concerned by your actions and your unrepentant attitude. Fighting is unacceptable, especially for a young lady-”
“Oh!” I cut in. “It makes sense now. You’re not concerned about them bullying other students, or that they were fighting with me. You’re just annoyed that I acted in an ‘unladylike manner’ by fighting back.”
“Miss Cleary! That is not the point!” Mr Beckett’s cheeks flamed red in a way that told me that was exactly the point and I had to resist the urge to smile. “Witnesses have informed me that you not only participated but you instigated the fight by throwing stones at Connor Pritchard.”
“Because he was roughing up some first years! And the stones didn’t even hit him!”
“MISS CLEARY! Be quiet!” Mr Beckett glared at me from over his glasses. “In light of these incidents and your behaviour now I’m going to suspend you for the next week. When you return, you’ll be placed in isolation until you understand the severity of the situation. We’re going to call someone to collect you, you will wait in reception until they arrive.”
There was a dismissive quality to his tone and I knew he was prompting me to leave, but I didn’t move immediately. Mr Beckett had turned his attention to the papers on his desk but when he registered my lack of movement, he lifted his head once more.
“You are excused Miss Cleary,” he said coldly.
“Yes sir…” I slunk out of his office, leaving the door open just to annoy him, and went down to reception to wait. I picked at a loose thread on my oversized school jumper, working a hole into the cuff with my thumb.
The receptionist peered over the desk at me, not with any judgement which made a nice change, but with the small town curiosity I’d grown used to whenever I encountered someone new. I could handle that but after a few minutes of prolonged staring I began to get agitated.
“Do I have something on my face?” I asked. She didn’t reply, but turned away with an audible huff at my rudeness. I was sure that would find its way on my list of misdemeanours somehow.
Admittedly it was a rather long list at this point. And some of the incidents were my fault but if Mr Beckett expected me to repent for what I’d done, he would have a long wait. I had done what was right, although I knew my aunt and uncle were unlikely to see it that way. They already thought I was being difficult for the sake of it. I was going to need to think up a reasonable explanation for the day’s events.
A car pulled up outside and I tensed up instinctively, my hands clenched into fists with my bitten nails digging into my palms. My anxiety disappeared instinctively when I recognised the driver. He hopped out and gave me a reassuring smile as he approached. The receptionist had also noticed his arrival and was not so subtly fixing up her make-up.
“Hey,” he said warmly to the receptionist. “I’m Elian Cleary, I’m picking up my sister. I was told she’d been involved in some kind of altercation?”
I tuned out the pair of them, relieved that it was Elian and not my aunt or uncle that had come to collect me. No matter what, he was always on my side.
“Blair!” he snapped suddenly, finishing with the receptionist. “Time to go. You’re in big trouble young lady!”
Elian grasped hold of my shoulder and marched me out to the car, keeping his expression fierce until we were both seated.
“Young lady?”
“Too much?”
“A bit.”
Elian chuckled and started the car, heading out of the school grounds and onto the narrow roads that connected it to the rest of the town. I relaxed my head against the window, gazing out at the rolling sea of green, cresting and falling. Beyond that was a hint of silver, glimmering faintly. A lone bird swooped overhead, close enough to get an impression of a white belly and dark brown feathers. Elian hummed softly beside me, the sound enveloping me in warm comfort.
We left the main road and turned down a winding side lane. The smooth surface gave way to packed dirt, interspersed with patches of grass. Trees loomed up either side, growing thicker the further we went. This was only the very outskirts of the forest, the road looping along the edge before joining up with the main road further on. It was a route that really served no purpose and the existence of which no one could really make sense of. It was rarely used and even then only as parking for the handful
of out-of-towners who occasionally hunted in the woods.
Elian found a safe place to stop and switched off the engine. He turned in his seat to face me, fishing a tissue from his pocket and handing it over.
“Want to tell me what happened?” he asked as I dabbed at my split lip.
“I got into a fight.”
“I gathered that much. At least tell me that the other person looks twice as bad?”
“Well it was three against one so… not really.”
“Three on one? That’s hardly fair.”
“School isn’t meant to be fair.” I looked at him, my grey eyes locking with his warm brown ones, as dear and familiar to me as my own. “Are you going to tell them?”
“No. Tell me exactly what happened and I’ll cover for you. We’ll just… find somewhere for you to hide out for the next week until you’re not suspended anymore.”
I nodded slowly and began my explanation.
It had happened during lunch break, which already seemed like months ago. I’d gone to my normal spot, perched in a sturdy lower branch of a large twisted apple tree. I wasn’t sure why but there was something inviting about the tree; I felt safer when I was around it. Two first years had also been eating there, sitting between the uneven roots at the base. Connor and his minions, Liam and Patrick, had shown up and started hassling them. They weren’t being violent (even cretins like them weren’t quite so horrible as to hit eleven year old girls), but I’d found myself possessing an odd sense of protectiveness. So I’d thrown a stone at them.
“Why did you have a stone on you in a tree?” Elian interrupted.
“I found it on the way in this morning. It looked like a good one for skipping,” I said with a shrug. “They didn’t take kindly to it. Or me throwing the rotten apples from the tree after that… so they grabbed my legs and pulled me down.”
“Does it hurt?”
“Stings a little but not much. I think they weren’t expecting me to fight back otherwise it would have been worse.”
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