by N Felts
clearly is darkness. A blanket of shadow enveloping everything around him. However, the feeling of a profound warmth against his cheek kept the fear at bay. The sensation of impossible comfort only offered by a mother’s embrace. The feeling he lost so very long ago. The current times promote selfishness and survival of the fittest. Lacking these traits is certain to lead him to an early grave.
“Found him!” A girl yells from above. Shaken from his trance, Rift scrambles to his feet to find familiar faces arriving from multiple directions. Failing to hang on to his spikey black hair, his hood collapses onto his back. The leader arrives after the rest of the group has congregated on the ledge, parting them to look down upon his prey. An athletic boy named Rho, always carrying the wooden sword his father gave him before leaving to join the defense of Gamelon. An aggressive child destined for an authoritative position, however small the extent of his reign may be. The other children obey him without question, knowing his potential violence is much more than a mere threat.
“I told you not to hide from us,” Rho shrugs, his stoic face especially intimidating in the fading light. The only child with a respectable ensemble, his baggy, brown overalls end in a pair of boots no one could afford these days. His surprisingly clean, white shirt has only one long sleeve, the other removed to imitate the elite soldiers his father had joined. “You think you can stay in our town without paying up?”
“We're not in,” the girl on his right starts, clamping her hands over her mouth as Rho shifts his glance to her. A bit of a know-it-all for Rho’s taste, Ona has a difficult time keeping her mouth shut. A year or two younger than Rift, she can be even more aggressive than Rho at times, knowing her fearless leader will back up any threat she can conjure. Waiting hopelessly, Rift grips his music box tightly behind his back, afraid sliding it back into his pocket would be noticed.
“I don't want to see your face around here anymore,” Rho continues, hopping off the small plateau and forcibly prodding Rift in the chest with his sword. Remaining silent, Rift grimaces painfully, but continues to carefully conceal his treasure. Stumbling away, he is denied a chance to run as the rest of the group quickly encircles him. Looking back to Rho, he sees the jig is up. “What's that?” He demands, prodding Rift with the sword once again. Oblivious to his approach, Rift is taken by surprise when one of the boys sneaks up behind him and snatches the music box away. Dahn, a human from Ordon Village, is the original member of Rho’s posse. Always eager to pick a fight, he couldn’t have been happier to help Rho take over.
“Got it!” He shouts excitedly, turning it over in his hands. “It's some kind of toy. Looks stupid.”
“Give it here,” Rho commands, prompting the boy to toss it over Rift's head. Gripped with panic, Rift watches in horror as his only possession of value is idly inspected by his worst enemy. A much stronger breeze pushes through the field as the sun has nearly set. Unable to find the courage to speak, Rift utters a weak whine, grabbing Rho's attention.
“Oh, does the baby want his toy back?” Rho teases, tossing it to another kid.
“Over here!” Another calls as they continue to toss the box to each other, just out of his reach. Straining to catch a wayward throw, Rift fails over and over again as the children continue to taunt and tease him. Stumbling after a missed catch that just grazes his fingertips, he is on his back looking up before the sting of pain is registered. A heavy swing landed on the bridge of his nose as Rho nearly managed to knock him out with his trusty sword. Tears of pain welling up in his eyes, Rift weakly grabs at his face while Rho dangles his music box over him.
“Awwww, is the baby gonna cry now?” He continues to mock.
“Rho,” Ona calls, afraid to interrupt, but clearly wanting to point something out.
“Shut up,” he absently responds, poking Rift mercilessly as he is denied the chance to get back to his feet.
“But, the sun,” Ona pleads. Pointing at the sparse light, dipping into the desert beyond the canyon to the west.
“I said shut up!” He demands, enjoying the power too much to be distracted. Without another word, she flees back toward the bridge, still down for the time being. The pain and humiliation is too much for Rift to handle, curling into a fetal position and waiting for the children to lose interest. As the yellow glow of the sun fades into the dim, blue glow of the moon, a Wolfos howls somewhere in the distance. It is only now that Rho realizes the danger he is in. A rumble of earth to the group's left is all it takes to incite a panic. The remaining children begin to run for the bridge, only to be cut off by a bony hand springing from the earth. They’ve strayed from the safety of the castle walls, and now the Stalchildren are upon them. Scrambling to his feet, Rift finds Rho gripping his sword tensely, unsure if he should fight or run. Making a move to take back his music box ends in disaster as Rho’s quick reflexes allow him to dodge Rift’s advance and trip him back to the ground effortlessly. “Pssh! Take it,” Rho shrugs, tossing the box toward the small bridge leading to Kakariko Village. Thoughtlessly chasing after his most prized possession, Rift is unaware of Rho’s plot to save his gang at Rift’s expense. Charging toward the multiple tiny skeletons, clumsily marching after the kids with glowing orange eyes, Rho beats them down with a rapid succession of strikes. Beckoning the group to join him he continues to knock the weak apparitions aside as they close the distance to the bridge. The endless parade of fleshless anatomy continues to emerge, their jawless mouths seeming to grin at the easy prey.
Finally locating his box, Rift turns back toward Castle Town to find the bridge is already beginning its ascent, the chains connected to the old wood loudly cranking while the children’s hearts collectively sink. The dry grass crunches beneath his sandals as Rift sprints toward the group of hoodlums, desperate for some level of security as the Kakariko bridge is overrun by the teeming skeletons. Enemy or not, he needs Rho’s protection if he intends to survive the night. Rho cracks yet another Stalchild’s head open, the collection of bones collapsing like a house of cards and slowly seeping back into the ground like quicksand. The persistent demons seem to be defeated for the moment, the endless spawning of fresh enemies pausing for a time. Seconds from reaching the group, Rift is thrown off his feet when yet another deformed, skeletal head blasts upward from the earth. This Stalchild is much larger than its predecessors, and proportionally aggressive. Slowly crawling away on his back, Rift can’t help but utter a squeak of fear, unintentionally grabbing the ghoul’s attention. Its large, soulless eyes lock on the helpless boy as it gracelessly turns to claim his life. Scrambling to his feet once again, Rift breaks into a sprint in no particular direction. Glancing over his shoulder, he is relieved to find the skeleton is much slower than him, his sights already turned back to the group of screaming kids. Rho attacks courageously, but his wooden blade snaps in half against the monster’s forearm. A wave of defeat washes over the group, cowering above the rushing torrent of water beneath the raised bridge. Turning away and squeezing his eyes shut, Rift does his best to block out the screams of terror as the merciless monster bears down on them. Peeking into the dim night, he realizes his troubles are far from over as yet another Stalchild has surfaced, swinging a bony hand at him. Tripping to the side, he narrowly dodges the attack as more of the undead continue to climb into the haunting blue of the moon. His eyes darting about in search of some kind of safety, he only finds the dark entrance of the Faron province, a dusty trail leading through an opening in the trees. The bouncing orange eyes seem to close in from all directions, and he is left with no alternative. Pulling his hood back onto his head, he flees into the dark forest, a place the Stalchildren will not venture.
A plethora of insects spiral about the lush green landscape, and the chirping of life cascades over him like a coming storm. Unsure what he should do, Rift moves forward slowly, utilizing his dark clothing to fade into the shadows. The eerie glow of the moon pierces through the canopy in sporadic beams, the countle
ss tales he’s heard of the woodland creatures doing nothing to stifle his fear. Without warning, a seemingly harmless plant snaps to life, aggressively latching onto his arm with its hungry mouth. A shriek of pain echoes through the trees as the plant whips him back and forth through the air before launching him into a nearby tree trunk. Writhing in pain, he grabs at his arm, dripping with the nectar salivating from the plant’s carnivorous mouth. The plant itself angrily snaps its toothless, blue jaws, straining to finish off its prey like a dog on a chain. Its long, flexible stem becomes a collar of sorts, Rift’s leg just out of reach as the boy painfully regains his footing. The hostile foliage seems to dare him to come closer as it returns to its passive stance, waiting for a more easily consumed victim.
Another howl cuts through the night, and Rift begins to wonder if he’d be better off facing the Stalchildren. Being thrown through the air robbed him of his bearings, the already difficult to follow path nowhere to be seen. A mammoth, hollow tree trunk serves as a hallway of sorts, its moss covered bark glistening in the moonlight. Proceeding through
