Wild Whispers

My Pretty Beast

I sing Adele under my breath as I trudge down the stairs, laundry basket on my hip. The basement has always given me the creeps, but I can't put off doing my laundry any longer. When I moved into this building, my rent was only cheap because of my sketchy neighbors; thus, I'm washing my clothes at six in the morning.

As I enter the laundry room, the flickering fluorescent lights cast an eerie glow through the room and the rattling sound of a washer charges the room with frenetic energy. I sing louder to silence the noise. Ignoring the guy in the corner, I dump my clothes into a washer in the corner, keeping my fear away with my voice. Unfortunately, my singing attracts his attention and the curly haired man turns to look at me.

I almost dump my underwear all over the floor.

The guy has a pair of freaking horns coming out of the side of his head. I knew this was a bad neighborhood, but I didn't think I was moving to freaking Narnia.
"Hallo, lass!" he calls out to me, his voice thick. "What brings ye here?"

Why does this guy sound like he just moved to Brooklyn from 18th century Scotland? I back away from him, holding my laundry basket in front of me like a shield.

"I...I have to go," I stutter, and the guy skips toward me.
As he rounds the corner of the row of washing machines, I see the reason for the skipping--he has hooves and hairy legs that bend in at the knees like a goat or a cow. He's a freaking faun, and not nearly as cute as Mr. Tumnus. I rub at my eyes with my free hand to make sure I'm not dreaming.

"Holy crap, you're a freaking monster. What...what are you?"

My horror does nothing to stall his advance and he offers his hand. "Care fer a dance, lassie?"

"What is this place?" I screech, backing against a drier. I've seen some strange people, but I didn't know I was living with mythical creatures. Holy crap.

"Ye're in a halfway house between your world and ours," he says, lounging against a washing machine. His goat leg brushes against mine and I jump away.

"You're from another world?" I ask, half skeptical and half shocked. It does explain the guy with the sharp incisors in the elevator, but we're in Brooklyn, not Hogwarts.

"Aye, and ye are too if ye can see me." He winks at me. "Only our kind can see each other--we're invisible to humans."

Our kind? What the heck is he talking about? I'm just a twenty five year old woman who lives in a crappy apartment in Brooklyn. I don't know anything about vampires or fauns.

"I heard ye singing in the stairwell," he says. "I'd guess ye have some siren in ye with that voice." He puts his hand over his heart and bows. "Welcome home, my pretty beast."