Legends of the Anomalous || A Peculiar Children Fan Fiction Story

Prologue

"Bedtime stories children!" Miss Cockatiel stated cheerfully. I've loved peculiar legends and myths and tales since I can hear! I am so excited. "Rian. Change into your pyjamas if you want to hear all the stories I have got with me today." I nodded. I quickly sprinted upstairs, inside the room, and barged inside the giant closet. I changed into my night clothing and when I finally finished, I tripped. My whole body fell, grabbing the nearest lamp with me to the floor. The lamp illuminating all of the treasures under the bed. It suddenly occurred to me that there are books of all sorts, ancient and thick, thin and colourful. I've never been too curious of course, but maybe there are new stories waiting to be told! I just snatched one of the books that glinted because of the gold letterings scribbled in the covers. It is called Tales of the Peculiar, Unabridged and Untold, The Second Volume. 

"Aha!" I exclaimed. "Miss! There is another volume of the Tales! We have new tales!" I shouted as I run down the stairs, into the sitting room and offered the book to Miss. She seems to be very surprised and worried. "Where did you get this?" she asked. "Under my bed! There are a lot of treasures!" she stared at me longingly. "These are dangerous legends, Rian. These are not explicable to be told to young people. Throw this away!" she stated. I frowned and forced her that it's just fiction. Funny, because normal people thought we are fictional people. But we are not normal. Miss insisted to throw it away, so my rage flooded my mind and fire started forming in my hands, and nearly burned the whole room when Miss Cockatiel snapped her fingers and I immediately recognized that I've been sitting in the couch the whole time. Clever Miss, always trying to reverse time. She did the right thing though. I am dangerous, and I know it. She held the book and opened it.

"There are few things in the world that are hidden, mostly the kind that doesn't belong. We peculiars have been hiding for a very long time. But why not let the normal people know and be heroes of the world? It is because we have a certain purpose laid out on us. Made by the great father of all peculiars, the nimblus, or as we say, male ymbryne. His fame comes from his chronicles of defeating the vicious vitches, our creators. They made us by mistake, but the peculiarity spread out to different generations, and that made us. After locking up the vitches to an unknown universe of to the beyond of all, the great father has written a sacred note which is now being hidden from the wights and hollows. This note is nothing but a sentence. A sentence that made us who we really are. The purpose, it is to exile the vitches once and for all if they came back. But this is suddenly buried by the uprising of the wights and hollowghasts that raided most of our world. It is miserable what they have done. Made everyone forgot that there are upcoming dangers... to..." Miss stopped. I think it is enough. I made a mistake. She is now giving me shivers and thoughts about these vicious vitches and what they will bring to our future. Will it be worse than the wights? I grabbed the book out of her hand and climbed the stairs as she dismissed the rest of my lot.

I abruptly stopped in front of the door, hitting my head. As I rubbed it, curiosity took over my mind and I opened the book. I started to read the sentences Miss Cockatiel recited to us. Vitches, they're pretty scary... they have raggedy clothes with chains, ruffled hair of the deepest of mahogany, crooked teeth and the mind of a villain. I shuddered. I checked the other chapters as I enter my room. There, has been the names of the chronicles of the great father and the rare nimblus, the vitches' beginning and creations, the dark generation of peculiars, the Nightlight family and their manor, the Phoenix ymbryne, the dream knitter, and the half-vitches who seems to own their abilities, to create and transform.

After years of the wight wars, he became one of the peculiars to forget his main purpose in the future. But it will change of course, as stories all turn into.