Mogtober 2022!

3: Eventide

Molly Bradshaw sat on her bed for the last time. She'd lived in an asylum her whole life, because when she'd been born and identified as a cursed child, her parents had wanted nothing to do with her. Dr McCain had ordered that she packed her (very few) belongings away before she was left on the streets for her death to find her, but unkind as she was, Dr McCain had helped Molly over the years and Molly was grateful for that.

She didn't have a suitcase, but Molly didn't have enough belongings to need a suitcase anyway. Her backpack would do, a small, worn, faded brown mess of a thing, she loved it anyway. It was the one thing her parents had left with her when they abandoned her at the asylum. She filled it with her clothes, which didn't really fit her, but would have to do, her six diaries, written over the years, with her seventh almost finished (she'd kept a diary ever since she was old enough to read and write), her pencil that she used to write with, although it was barely even a stub now, and her favourite book, the Songbird's Curse. The other books were the property of the asylum, and technically so was this one, but she wanted to keep it anyway.

Molly's most prized possession by far was her wooden flute, which had its own long, cross body case.

Pulling both her backpack and her flute case on over her warmest clothes (shabby second hand black boots, thin grey socks, black leggings with holes in them, a faded and worn denim skirt, a t-shirt that had once been white, a rough woollen jumper and a long blue anorak) she stepped out of her "room" and closed the door behind her.

Dr McCrain was waiting for her, and roughly grabbed her by her shoulder and shoved her down the hallway to the entrance. "Off you go then, cursed one!"

Molly stumbled out the door onto the dark, cold street, Dr McCrain's cackles echoing behind her. She'd never been outside the asylum before, only in their tiny walled in courtyard with exercise machines. Aimlessly wandering abandoned streets, Molly eventually reached a riverbank. The noise soothed her slightly, and she rested her back against a tree and slid to the ground.

She fumbled with her flute case, then lifted the flute to her lips. With little to do in the asylum but read, write and play her flute, Molly had quickly become an expert player, but she'd never be able to read or write music, as she only knew the sound, not the theory.

Her haunting melody joined the music of the river and for once, she felt happy. Like she was finally where she was supposed to be. For once, she wasn't thinking about her curse, or her dull, gloomy life in the asylum. She was just... calm. Her mind was blank and all she knew was the noise of the river and the song of her flute. It was a truly magical moment.

But all too soon, the moment was ruined. Red eyes glowed in the darkness across on the other bank of the river, and a growl echoed across the running water.

Fear gripped Molly's body and she instinctively started to run. Suddenly, she knew. She had always known she was cursed, but nobody had ever thought to tell her how she would die, although she'd die of her own curse on eventide. Why had she never thought to ask?

Molly had only run a few hundred yards when red eyes appeared in front of her. She turned and fled back the way she had come, but red eyes glowed there, too. She was surrounded by glowing, red eyes and shadowy figures.

Distantly, she heard bells ringing to mark midnight. What would happen if she survived the twelve chimes? Would she just drop dead anyway? Would the red-eyed shadows just keep chasing her? But maybe, just maybe, there was a chance she could survive. 

Think, Molly! She told herself, Alright, brick wall to my left. No chance: I can't climb. Shadows on all other sides, but behind the shadows, a road to my front and behind me. Nope: I'm exhausted even from running a few hundred yards. To my right, a river. I can't swim, but could I hold my breath and hide in the shallows?

It was her only chance. She threw her flute case (but kept hold of her flute) as far up as she possibly could, and in the few seconds that the shadows were looking up, she threw herself to the ground and rolled through the legs of the shadows to the river. as the clock chimed for the seventh time, she slipped quietly into the freezing cold water. 

The shadows were in uproar, and a man with ash brown hair popped up, seemingly out of nowhere and vanquished the shadows with an irritated wave of a hand. Bong. Only two bongs left until Molly either died or lived.

The man walked towards the river and Molly pressed herself into the water, feeling the water close over her head. His voice, when he spoke, was distorted because of the water, but she could just make out what he was saying. "I know you're there."

Bong. One chime left. Molly's heart pounded in her chest. Then something strange happened. It was as if time itself slowed down. The water in the river slowed, almost to a halt, but Molly herself could move easily. 

"I know you're there." The man said again, and Molly worked up the courage to stand up. Her eyes met the man's eyes and the man stretched out a gloved hand to her. "Come with me. I can save you. You could work for me and I can keep you safe.

Molly hesitated, then reached out her hand and placed it in the man's. Then she stepped into her new life as time sped back up to it's normal speed and the clock chimed one last time.