|The Legend of Margaret Hill
Author: silentsings PM
'On Earth, only one kind of fairy existed, and that was the only kind that mattered. A pure black one, with a meaningful name, the door knob fairy.' Challenge response from IRL friend. One-shot.Rated: Fiction T - English - Horror/Supernatural - Words: 1,374 - Reviews: 2 - Favs: 2 - Published: 09-11-11 - Status: Complete - id: 2951331
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
A/N: I said a few days later, and two months later I uploaded a new story. Haha. *sheepish* Weelll, after two months of not writing, I finally wrote something! This is a challenge my friend friend, well challenged me to write about 'door knob' fairies, whatever that is. It might not be that good, seeing as I haven't written in two months, which is literally forever.
This is unbetaed, by the way. Please point out any mistakes and enjoy. :)
• The Legend of Margaret Hill •
s i l e n t s i n g s
In another universe, fairies existed to show love and beauty, bringing the seasons with their hard work. In another universe, they were creatures of light and born from the sound of first laughter. In another universe that is.
On Earth, only one kind of fairy existed, and that was the only kind that mattered. A pure black one, with a meaningful name, the door knob fairy.
Once, Margaret Hill sneaked out at night. She was never one to do so, but a strange force urged her to. She rose out of bed, as if in a trance and proceeded to walk across the room; her light footsteps making no sound and tugged the window handle open.
Margaret was met by the wind and the dull glow of the moon above. Never in her life, had she experienced a 'dull moon' before. The nights she spent alone on the roof back at her old home were always filled with the light of the moon, so big and filled with craters; it looked almost like moon cheese.
She was almost blown off as she thought about it, before she reached to grasp the handle bar tightly, her body suspending from the window, her feet dangling in the air. She tested her weight, before dropping onto the roof, wincing at the pain that was brought to her hands and ankles. Margaret scooted towards the edge and jumped off, onto the solid ground.
Her knees felt like Jell-o. She doubled over, breathing heavily, trying to resume a steady breathing pace, before she stood up, her eyes scanning the yard. She couldn't remember why she wanted to come here in the first place.
Margaret was about to turn away, before she heard a light sound. A bell, like one of those fake Christmas bells they put on trees. It was tinkling, sounding from the woods.
She whipped back around, squinting at the trees as her eyes tried to adapt to the darkness. Directly in front of her, a path wound into the woods, into the darkness, into the unknown. The tinkling sounded again, slightly louder this time, sounding almost rusty.
She wiped her clammy palms on her night-gown, wondering what must have been making that sound. Birds? No, she doubted it. It was something abnormal, for sure.
She was curious, and a curious Margaret Hill was never a good one. Her curiosity almost killed her a few times, just like the famous saying, "Curiosity killed the cat." It took the best of her many times. Twisting the old night dress around her fingers, she cast her home one last glance, before she made a final decision and descended into the dark woods.
She was scared, she would admit that. The woods were gloomy and crickets chirped in the most inappropriate of times, scaring her half to death. Her fingers reached up absently to push the wave of hair from her face as she strained to hear the tinkling of the bell.
She reached the middle of clearing a few minutes later, out of breath. Her head swiveled around to catch sight of anything living, but Margaret saw nothing except the movement of the dead leaves. She stepped forward, only realizing now that she stopped to take a breath, that she was scared out of her wits. The surroundings were unfamiliar with her and the resounding voice of her father's warning played in her head: "Stay away from the backyard and what lies beyond."
In that moment she realized one small, but clear thing: she was hopelessly lost.
That distracted her for a few miserable moments, before the chiming started again. She turned to her left, and there on the branches, was a fairy.
A fairy, unlike no other. From her childhood of watching Tinkerbell, she could see that fairies were delicate and held a sense of beauty and softness in one way. Now as she observed one on the branches, she could see no 'delicacy' in it.
What struck her first were the black clothes. It was more of a mini robe to be exact, shrouding most of the fairy's skin, and only its face and fingers were exposed, gleaming white. Black hair cascading down its shoulders, so black it was almost blue. Margaret guessed that it was a female from what she saw. Its lithe form set off an aura of danger, and its bright red eyes watched her every moment.
A door-knob fairy. She tilted her head, feeling fear spark in her heart. How cowardly of you, Ms. Hill, her conscience chided. To fear such a small creature. What can it possibly do to you? Margaret's fingers tightened against the fabric of her dress. She didn't want to know.
The fairy raised its eyes to meet hers. You have trespassed, its eyes were saying as a form of communication. Human, it sneered, its eyes sweeping up and down her form before meeting hers again. You have not been taught well, it seems.
Margaret took a step back, her heart pounding in her chest. She didn't understand what the fairy was saying, but it didn't sound good.
Fool, it mused quietly, sounding almost amused. You must see no warning here or you are an extreme fool. Its wings fluttered slightly, causing the air around it to shimmer. The fairy stared straight into her eyes, the red orbs burning darkly.
And with that, Margaret ran. She twisted her body around and ran away, deeper into the forest, seeming not to notice this. The beating wings of the fairy sounded dangerously close behind. Her breath came out in huffs, but she kept going, almost twisting her ankle one time. She could tell that its intention was clear: to have her dead.
Margaret kept running past the trees, only beginning to notice as the branches seem to straighten into something else like claws. She slowed down slightly, momentarily forgetting the fairy behind her, to marvel at the frightening sight.
Before she could turn to go, she felt pain, immense pain at the back of her neck. It was almost like poison seeping into her blood. She couldn't breathe for a few seconds, leaving her gasping for air, clutching at something to steady her as her eyesight blurred. Margaret felt the hem of her night-gown growing wet. The scent of blood was in the air, murky, salty, filled with stench. The pain was closing around her neck as she was finally forced down on her knees.
Her hands closed around her neck, the pain closing around her, before she caught her last sight.
The fairy, hovering above her, its eyes gleaming with a malicious light. For an ignorant being, we will grant you a fast death.
She stopped struggling; her hands still around her neck, her body slumped. Her eyes were staring at the fairy, but it was glassy, out of focus.
Margaret Hill was dead.
A door-knob fairy, if defined was called as a deceiving creature; a "doorway" to death, hence the name door-knob.
The next morning, the lifeless fifteen year old girl's body was heard to be found in the backyard, in the same position as it was after she died. It was declared after the funeral that the forest was unapproachable, and a home for 'demons'.
As the family moved away, the land was abandoned, and the wild shrubbery continued growing. It was said that the door-knob fairies continued their scheming and manipulation, long after the death of Margaret.
This is the story of the door-knob fairies, a legendary creature believed to not have existed.