Amelia 4042

Mother's Milk

"Mister! Please! Lower your knife." The boy pleaded with Adam "You're scaring my sister. We don't have anything. We're orphans."
The young girl trembled violently, whimpering in the lad's arms. Contrary to the boy's claim, his sister's complextion was not like his own. Unlike the boy's, her skin was as fare as a fallen snow and long hair black as ink. His skin was like most people from the sourthern lands of Featherstone; a fading bronze with short tangled hair scorched red by Amelia's two suns.

They probably met sometime during the war. Adam figured.

"Look, I'm not here for that." Adam reassured them while lowering his blade. "I thought I was in danger. The blade's for protection."

"We're harmless sir. I promise." The boy quickly said in relief.

The older girl beside them hadn't spoken a single word the entire time. Her peculiar smile stretched to a sinister Sneer. Her skin began to pale and curdle, the edges of her sneer stretched eerily wider as she slunk into the shadows behind her. When she completely disappeared two beady eyes bloomed blood red from the dark corner. The darkness seemed to swell and grow till it loomed over the fire and two children.

"Don't, don't leave me." A voice spoke from the darkness. "My family. We! Are family." The floorboards and wooden walls moaned, contracting and closing the gaps left by passing time, bringing the shadows and darkness together.

By now the young girl was screaming. The boy tried to console his sister but even Adam was terrified. Adam could barely see the blade trembling in his hand before him. It seemed as if the darkness smothered the fire, suffocating its light.

Adam had snuck to his feet, grasping behind him, still clutching the dull blade with the vain hope of a fool. He remembered walking into the house this way, sure a door would be somewhere behind him.

I'm sorry kids, but I gotta get outta here. I'm tired of this shit. How can a world like this exist? Why endure it? I'm sorry kids, I'm really sorry. Adam pleaded in repentance.

Adam crept closer to the door behind him. But everyone in the small house could hear the balls of feet slide against the stale floor. The sound startled the young girl to silence. She listened quietly over her trembling breaths, expecting the sound to come closer, but a sound much like books tumbling from shelves filled the room.

Adam lay on the ground, both his achilles tendons sliced, moaning in agony. As the blood poured from his heels a faint scent of honey filled the room. That's when Adam realised. Dammit, I should of caught the scent long ago. A Dorjon. Adam thought.

Dorjons were the name for young children so traumatized by their abrupt end they refuse to leave this world. These unlucky spirits usually appeared during times of war. They stay in the homes they were raised and feed on the flesh of unsuspected guests. Some have even been found feeding on the families that raised them.

Two red eyes hovered over Adam. They looked as if they were enjoying his agony. "Sweetheart? Is that you?" Adam said wincing in pain with a devious intent.

"Papa?" a child's voice spoke from the darkness.

"Sweetie, you know how angry mommy gets when you haven't had your bath by the time she gets home."

"Mommy?" The gentle voice inquired.

"She'll be home soon sweetie."

As the darkness waivered, the Dorjon enraptured by the thought its deceased family, Adam grabbed the spilled jar of milk and flung what was left of it into the face of the shadow. The darkness shrieked in pain then crumbled to clumps of soggy ash that dripped and sputtered to the floor.

The boy sat up, holding the young girl close to him. "What... what happened? What was that?" He asked.

"A Dorjon. A mother's milk is the only thing that can quell such a spirit. You'd do well to remember that boy."

"Cyrus, my name is Cyrus sir." The boy said wiping his eyes. "This is Tam." Cyrus loosened his grip and the young girl, still trembling, unburied her face from his chest. She peeked in Adams direction. Seeing the blood spill from Adam's ankles, Tam rushed to his side. She knelt down by his shoulders and with desperation in her eyes looked to Cyrus "Help him Cyrus, we have to help him."

But Adam's breadth fell silent and his soul slipped from his grasp.