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origfic_bingo prompt, this time 'posession/mind control', though it could also be 'fairy tales/folklore/mythology'.
The man picked his way across the beach as quickly as the debris would allow. Last night a storm had pounded the coast for hours, rattling windows and screaming around the rocks. Now, the aftermath was left on the shore. Timbers like rotten teeth sticking up from the sand. Old bottles and shells, cracked and broken. A girl, her hair red as blood, lying insensible in the sand.
Carefully, he carried her back to his cottage. She was small and slender, with pale skin that was greyed with cold and exhaustion. Her eyes were grey, too, and bulged like a frog’s when they opened. The long strands of her hair were the rusty red of corroded iron, or the strange seaweed that sometimes washed up on the shore. Her nails were more like claws, thick and sharp. The long slash of her mouth was filled with needlelike teeth. The cat hated her, and would not approach the cottage with her inside. When she woke, she gasped at the air as if she was unaccustomed to it, a long, rattling, wheezing sound. Uncertain, she looked around and pawed at the shirt that swamped her body.
“You were naked.” The words were choked with embarrassment and disuse. The man had lived alone for some time, now. “I found you.”
The wheezing became more regular, and the girl sat up.
“English?” The man waited, but no reply was given. “Okay then. Francais?” Nothing. Loudly and clearly: “Can-you-understand-me?”
The girl hissed, and covered her ears. Shock, maybe. She’d come around.
“Hungry?” he pointed to his mouth. The girl blinked, slowly, and nodded. However, she refused soup, and bread made her choke. Soaking it in the soup seemed to work, although the girl clearly didn’t think much of it, and she had this while he prepared his own lunch. The cat had to be fed outside, for it still would not enter.
The day passed in simple mimed conversations. Slowly, they became used to each other’s presence. The girl still did not talk, and would not leave the sofa. Where had she come from? She would only point to the sea. Parents? Family? She shook her head. Loud noises startled her, and bright light hurt her eyes. A doctor would be best, the man decided, when the phone lines were back up. That night he slept as soundly as he ever had, lulled to sleep by the sound of the waves. He’d always found it vaguely musical, but that night it had a more melodic quality, a whispery singing that mimicked the sound of a seashell when you press it to your ear. When he woke, the girl was gone.
Panicking, the man dressed hurriedly and went outside. The beach and sea were empty of life. He searched up and down the coast as far as his strength and panic would allow, but the girl was nowhere to be found. Exhausted, he returned to his cottage to find her sitting on the doorstep. She grinned at him, showing all her teeth (in his relief the man did not notice that they were faintly red), and allowed herself to be shooed back onto the sofa. She walked unsteadily, he noticed. An injury from the storm? Something to mention to the doctor when the phones were working again. He thought the buzz of questions would keep him awake that night, but again the ocean sang him into rest.
The next day the man noticed two things. Firstly, the cat was missing. Secondly, he did not mind in the slightest.
He just wanted to watch the girl. Nothing else mattered very much any more. Between them, they were beginning to make more sense of each other. The girl pointed at something and he gave it to her. She filled his whole world. He told her she was beautiful, and she hissed and giggled in a way that showed she understood. The phone lines must have come back on, for around midday the man’s phone rang and rang. The man didn’t notice. He would not have cared even if he had. He had everything he needed in this cottage. Around evening the girl pointed out to the sea. By now the man understood her perfectly. He picked her up and walked down to the beach, and when his feet found the water they did not stop.
origfic_bingo prompt, this time 'posession/mind control', though it could also be 'fairy tales/folklore/mythology'.The man picked his way across the beach as quickly as the debris would allow. Last night a storm had pounded the coast for hours, rattling windows and screaming around the rocks. Now, the aftermath was left on the shore. Timbers like rotten teeth sticking up from the sand. Old bottles and shells, cracked and broken. A girl, her hair red as blood, lying insensible in the sand.
Carefully, he carried her back to his cottage. She was small and slender, with pale skin that was greyed with cold and exhaustion. Her eyes were grey, too, and bulged like a frog’s when they opened. The long strands of her hair were the rusty red of corroded iron, or the strange seaweed that sometimes washed up on the shore. Her nails were more like claws, thick and sharp. The long slash of her mouth was filled with needlelike teeth. The cat hated her, and would not approach the cottage with her inside. When she woke, she gasped at the air as if she was unaccustomed to it, a long, rattling, wheezing sound. Uncertain, she looked around and pawed at the shirt that swamped her body.
“You were naked.” The words were choked with embarrassment and disuse. The man had lived alone for some time, now. “I found you.”
The wheezing became more regular, and the girl sat up.
“English?” The man waited, but no reply was given. “Okay then. Francais?” Nothing. Loudly and clearly: “Can-you-understand-me?”
The girl hissed, and covered her ears. Shock, maybe. She’d come around.
“Hungry?” he pointed to his mouth. The girl blinked, slowly, and nodded. However, she refused soup, and bread made her choke. Soaking it in the soup seemed to work, although the girl clearly didn’t think much of it, and she had this while he prepared his own lunch. The cat had to be fed outside, for it still would not enter.
The day passed in simple mimed conversations. Slowly, they became used to each other’s presence. The girl still did not talk, and would not leave the sofa. Where had she come from? She would only point to the sea. Parents? Family? She shook her head. Loud noises startled her, and bright light hurt her eyes. A doctor would be best, the man decided, when the phone lines were back up. That night he slept as soundly as he ever had, lulled to sleep by the sound of the waves. He’d always found it vaguely musical, but that night it had a more melodic quality, a whispery singing that mimicked the sound of a seashell when you press it to your ear. When he woke, the girl was gone.
Panicking, the man dressed hurriedly and went outside. The beach and sea were empty of life. He searched up and down the coast as far as his strength and panic would allow, but the girl was nowhere to be found. Exhausted, he returned to his cottage to find her sitting on the doorstep. She grinned at him, showing all her teeth (in his relief the man did not notice that they were faintly red), and allowed herself to be shooed back onto the sofa. She walked unsteadily, he noticed. An injury from the storm? Something to mention to the doctor when the phones were working again. He thought the buzz of questions would keep him awake that night, but again the ocean sang him into rest.
The next day the man noticed two things. Firstly, the cat was missing. Secondly, he did not mind in the slightest.
He just wanted to watch the girl. Nothing else mattered very much any more. Between them, they were beginning to make more sense of each other. The girl pointed at something and he gave it to her. She filled his whole world. He told her she was beautiful, and she hissed and giggled in a way that showed she understood. The phone lines must have come back on, for around midday the man’s phone rang and rang. The man didn’t notice. He would not have cared even if he had. He had everything he needed in this cottage. Around evening the girl pointed out to the sea. By now the man understood her perfectly. He picked her up and walked down to the beach, and when his feet found the water they did not stop.
