Owl Time

[deerbroken]

the findings on a myth of a small town and a protective spirit
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Username+ Usernumber: deerbroken + 641378
Name: Ascalaphus
Meaning: a guardian of hade's orchard in the underworld, who was later transformed into an owl by demeter.

[deerbroken]

My legs are exhausted from running. My breath comes in desperate pants, but I keep pushing forwards. It’s dark, cold. I have to get to a town. I have to find someone or I’ll pass out, I’ll die out here. I feel like I’ve run out of hope when I see a light through the trees. My body hurts, and the wounds on my side are pulsing, agony sent through my veins each step I take. But I have to get there.

I stumble out of the forest, my vision swimming dangerously. I can make out buildings around me, and a figure nearby, their eyes flashing green like that of an animal in the dark. Their expression is dull and they make no move to help me, my breath ragged. “Please,” I gasp, starting to stumble again. My body can’t keep up, I’m going to fall. I’m going to pass out. The figure catches me by the arm, leading me towards the light. I’m dying, I think. This is it. The figure leaves me at the front of the building and moves to the side, tapping on the window as they stand in the dark alley. A figure inside the building looks out through the other window facing me, and rushes out the door to help.

I fall into his arms, barely conscious. I try to point out the other person standing nearby, assuming they might need help too. That’s just like me, to worry about someone else, even when I’m at death’s door. When I point weakly, though, there’s nothing there. No figure, no sign of the stranger. The man holding me doesn’t wait to help me, pulling my arm around his shoulders and taking me inside. That’s all I remember until I wake up.

---

The next morning I feel pain before my eyes open. The sensation has dulled, and I feel warm, too. As my eyes adjust to the low lighting I can see that I'm under several blankets, my body feeling tight, like I’m wrapped in bandages. The window in my room reveals a bleak, overcast sky– I can’t even begin to guess what time it is. I shift, carefully, surveying the room. I swing my feet out of the bed, dizziness overtaking me, and a floorboard creaks loudly. I can hear the man that must’ve helped me come rushing, pushing open the door. He smiles to see me awake, but gently urges me to get more rest. “It’s no trouble,” he says, in a thick accent I can’t quite identify. “I’ll get you something to eat later, you just rest.”

I do what he says. It’s not like I have a choice. Still, I feel a little better the next time I wake. My eyes search around the room. It’s then that I notice something sticking out from behind the nightstand. A small, brown shape. It looks like leather, and I reach for it, having to lean out of bed a bit to get it in my fingers. I pull it into my lap, my hand running over the cover. There’s nothing on it, but when I open it there’s writing. I worry that it’s the man’s private journal, but why would he leave it in here? Even if he has… He thinks I’m sleeping. My curiosity wins out and I read on.

.

[deerbroken]

___’s Journal

Day 1
They say that when people go missing, they’re always found by Irshkeah. A tiny town by the crossroads, where the fog is always heavy regardless of the season. I’ve been asked to go out there, to see if there isn’t some mystery to be dug up. It’s not really my cup of tea but the pay is good.

It only took a few hours to get there. The village itself seems uninteresting. Small log buildings with sod roofs, the little green leaves of the grass peeking from the dirt. Farmlands, cattle, everything in a normal village. The people are reclusive, they don’t like outsiders, but that’s not uncommon either. The tavern there is often closed or too full for strangers to join. There’s one inn, with a man who wasn’t born there, he’s mostly been accepted into the community. He runs the business for people passing through, he’s friendly enough. “Don’t hold it against them,” he says. “Haven’t had many good experiences with strangers around here, mostly escaped convicts from the prison a few miles out. But you’re welcome here for the night.”

Day 2
Stayed inside today, the rain came pouring down. The innkeep is nice and he’s happy enough to share food with me so long as I’m paying. I’ll get working tomorrow.

Day 3
If you stay for one day, that’s all fine and dandy. After a few days of staying, wanting to get to know more about the locals, they really start giving you dirty looks. I kept hearing the children sing this song. They hold hands and skip around in a circle, saw it from the porch of the inn. Reminds me of the ring around the rosy rhyme. But it’s different. Maybe a little more… Ominous? I still don’t know what it means. I tried to write down what I could hear but I know I’m missing a lot.

Help me please, for I can’t __
I need you to ___ ee?

Some candle light, a drop of ___?
Make sure ___, woods?

We say goodnight, the lights go out
___ is on the hunt right now

It sounds creepy coming from them. Maybe it’s just me, or the atmosphere of the town. It’s always foggy and the people give you these looks, like you don’t belong here. Maybe I can ask the children? No, I should leave them be. Maybe the innkeeper can tell me about it.

Day 4
I tried to ask the innkeeper and he just gave me a weird look. He tried to laugh it off, but it’s clear there’s something up about it. “Don’t worry about that. How long did you say you were staying for?” He looked… nervous. Not for himself, but for me? Maybe the villagers really do have something they want kept secret. There’s whispers about it, all kinds of spooky stories meant to keep people out, I’d guess. Tales of ghosts haunting the village or rumors that they’re all werewolves or vampires, or that they’ve cheated death in some way and that’s where all the fog comes from. One more specific thing that brought me here, something about a mysterious figure who takes people away in the night. It’s silly, I know that. But it still bothers me… Especially with the song.

Day 5
The innkeeper told me I should really get going. There’s nothing here for me, he thinks. He looked really worried this time. His eyes went wide at one point, and I turned around. Something dashed past the window, but I didn’t see.

He humored me when I asked to have dinner together. He seems a little lonely, if I’m honest. Most people here probably feel that way. I prodded him about the song again and he sighed, looked around as if someone might be watching him. “You’ve heard the myths?”

I nodded to him, shrugged my shoulders. “All sounds impossible to me. Ghosts and werewolves and… god knows what else.”

He laughed at that. He looked… Relieved. “Yeah, all those kinds of things. But uh, the song.” He looks around again. “It’s part of the myth. The kids sing it. They say there’s never any trouble in Irshkeah. Do you uh, have any guesses why?”

“The people,” I said. I blurted it out, couldn’t hold my tongue. He laughed again, shook his head.

“No, no. They’re really not so bad once they trust you. All meet up on Sundays to leave flowers at the graves not too far up the road. Share greetings at the general store, actually bring me baked goods sometimes when business is real slow. But, no.” He sighs. Like he’s struggling with himself, like he wants to tell me about something but he’s holding back.

“So what does any of this have to do with the song?”

“It’s the myth,” he repeats. “If there’s any wrongdoing, any nefarious intentions, someone will light a candle and leave it on the windowsill at night. It all ties to the village– they used to have people coming here for it. The ritual.”

I laughed. Of course I laughed. It’s all just a myth, right?

He looked serious, though. “People would go missing. I think the town got so closed off because… Because people were misusing it. Asking for innocent people to be taken. That wasn’t right. I uh, actually my brother set up shop here before things got all weird. I inherited it when he passed, it’s why I moved out here. Only reason they really let me stay, I think.” He laughed then, finally. Broke the tension a little. “But it’s no joke. You’re an outsider, you don’t know the ritual,” he said. “But to even try it would be a mistake. If you upset him… Well that’s reason enough for him to take you too.”

“Him? What, like a person?”

The face he makes is strange again. “I don’t know. I really don’t. I know about the rumors, and enough about the song to know that you don’t go around asking questions. I’ve told you all I got. Is that why you came out here? Maybe you should… be moving on. If the townsfolk think you’re up to something they might, well. You should just go.”

It gave me pause. It’s just a song. A children’s song, no less. But there’s probably some truth to it somewhere. Maybe in the past they had something like that. Some kind of unspoken rule to get rid of people who were harmful to the community. I dunno. I flinched a little, sitting at the table with him, when I saw something dark flash past the window. The innkeeper laughed at that, like it was a joke. “Got a curfew around here,” he said suddenly. “Sure you know by now it’s best not to go out at night.”

I tried to ask him if it's part of the myth but he wouldn’t say. He stopped talking to me all together, then. Had an old pipe like my father used to have, took to smoking a bit of it while rain started to come down outside.

Told him goodnight, but I couldn’t sleep. I kept looking out my window, looking for whoever, or whatever it was that was skulking around. I didn’t see anyone, but the windows on the little houses all had a candle lit up, left on the sill.

I just about jumped out of my skin when I woke up to the sound of singing. It was quiet, at first. A low hum that felt like it was thrumming through the whole village. I got out of bed, and looked outside again. The candles were still lit, and I couldn’t see anyone but I could hear them. I know I heard it. It felt like it kept growing… Louder. I saw in each windowsill, the light going out, one by one. There was no one there, no vision of a face before the room went black each time. After a few of them went I grabbed my journal. I had to write all this down. I was shivering, terrified. My handwriting looks so bad, even now, looking back. But I got the rhyme. I got it, the whole thing.

“Help me please, for I can’t see
I need you to take some-bo-dy

“Some candle light, a drop of blood
Make sure to stay inside, out of the woods

“We say goodnight, the lights go out
Ascalaphus is on the hunt right now”

Day 6
The next morning’s foggy, like it always is. I was convinced last night was a dream. If I hadn’t gone back to read my journal… My writing is so frantic. Could it have been in my sleep? I don’t think I’m a sleepwalker but maybe the town has that kind of effect on you.

I thought about what the innkeeper said, and I figured, he’s right. I have enough here to give the paper something to work with, and I’ve definitely overstayed my welcome. Not that I ever was welcome, but, y’know. Whether or not last night happened, I've had enough of Irshkeah. I’ll head down to the innkeeper to have a few words and then I’ll come get my things, be on my way.

.

[deerbroken]

I hear footsteps, and I fold the book closed, tucking it under the blankets. The book in my hands, is it his? Or is that the innkeeper? Is it a story he’s writing? But it says it’s a journal…

“Hey,” I hear, as the door creaks open and the older gentleman looks at me fondly.

“Hi,” I say, holding the book tightly under the covers.

“Gave me a good scare,” the man says. He laughs a little, handing me a bowl of soup. I’m careful to leave the book under my blankets before I take it, sipping carefully. It’s good. I feel warm, comfortable. The pain in my side pulses, but it’s weaker than last night. I can breathe again.

“Where… Where am I? Who are you?”

“You’re in Irshkeah,” he says. My blood runs cold. That’s the name in the book. “In my inn, name’s Snake. Gotta ask you about what happened, but I’ll let you rest for now.”

I pause, the wheels in my mind turning. “Last night… There was a man. Did you see him?”

He looks uncomfortable, laughing a little. “Didn’t see anyone out there but you,” he says, but I can tell by the tone in his voice, the way he looks off, that he’s lying.

“I saw him,” I insist. “He was at the side of the building, he came to your window. Was it…?” The words leave my mouth before I can close it.

“You were in some kind of a state. Might’ve just seen things. People say the town’s haunted, but I don’t put much merit in it. What ah,” he starts, looking worried. “What’d he look like?”

“He was… tall. His eyes glowed in the dark like an animal… He had, he had horns. A big figure, like he was wearing a cape, something over his shoulders… He helped me.”

“Ah. Don’t give it much mind,” he says, waving his hand. “Just a local… spirit, you might’ve seen. Won’t hurt you if you leave it alone,” he says, and he laughs a little. “And don’t go around askin’ about it. Just uh, focus on feeling better. Have a caravan that comes through here, we can get you loaded up in the cart and have you sent off to a proper doctor in no time. Just rest here, alright?”

I nod, but the vision of the stranger last night lives in my head. The myths, the rumors. This town, and that journal. Is that… the man from the song? Why did he help me?

“What… What is it called?”

A look flashes across his face, but he seems to trust me. He nods, as if agreeing with himself on his decision to tell me. “We call him Ascalaphus. He’s got a lot of myths about him, part of the town’s history. He’s a protector. Protects his own. The community. Don’t know why he’d help a stranger… But you were in pretty bad shape. Maybe he saw something in you. That’d be something.”

Ascalaphus? The same spirit from the journal, the song? I open my mouth to speak, but I see something out of the corner of my eye. A flash, past the window. When I look, it’s gone– but the inn keeper smiles, laughing softly.

.

[deerbroken]

word count:
[ 2,660 words / 4000 words ]

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