Chiron Academy

Tales to Horrify #46: A Corpse's Story

"Oh," M. Leroux stammered. "Well, in that case. Mademoiselle, I was just thinking, Perhaps you would take your turn to tell a tale. We have some time before we stop for the night.

You seem a bit of an enigma. You don't seem the sort for terrifying tales, yet you listen quietly at all that has been said. I am curious what tale you would tell."

"Yes, girl," de Burgh agreed, eager to join any line of dialogue that got them away from their previous conversation. "Take a turn as the storyteller. Surely even a stuffy girl like you must have heard one tale in your journeys."

"Well, if you would like," she responded finally. "I suppose I have one to share."

"Très beau, mademoiselle."

------

There was a young girl. She was a wild sort of girl: strong, and liked to run with the boys. She was the Girl Who Never Cried. She lived on the edge of a small village. A quiet place. The worst place for those with an adventurous spirit. Oh, how she longed to have adventure like the ones that were told in tales spoken around the fire and the kind the sailors brought back from their journeys on the seas.

And she loved a boy with with ready grin. He was as wild as she. He'd injured himself in a fall as a babe, breaking his jaw. The wound healed well enough, but it left his teeth meeting at an odd angle. The boy with the crooked smile, he was called around town.

The land of Cornwall is known for its pirates, picking the treasures off those who were unfortunate enough to get in their way. In that way, the boy with a crooked grin and the girl who never cried were merely employing their local specialties, though to call them pirates might have been a bit of an exaggeration.

They were highwaymen, stopping the carriages of travelers as they passed through wooded copse outside the village. Their ill-gotten gains were spent on extra rounds at the pub every night and the extra was spent on a nest egg, a sum they hoped to grow big enough to pay for all of the trips around the world they'd dreamed of.

Truth be told, not much made it into their nest egg. The future always seemed so far away, whereas today there was a smart dress in the shop window or a silk handkerchief in a peddler's bag.

Sometimes a twinge of guilt would overcome one or the other. How could they make their living taking from others? But they would remind themselves of the nest egg, neglected though it was, and the dreams that needed its funding.

"Besides," they might say, "the only people we take from won't hardly miss it, such is their wealth. And if even if they do, who is to say they deserve any more than us?"

And so they would continue in their vices, throwing a few coins into their store from every seizure so as to allay their consciences.

And so it continued, weeks turning into months, and seasons changed. Till one day, when the boy with a crooked grin and the girl who never cried were hiding in their usual hiding spots in the small enclosure of trees, they were startled to see not a stuffed shirted merchant or blushing damsel's retinue coming down the road towards their hiding place, but a rather plain looking woman, dressed in a plain brown dress, with a blue green shawl draped over her.

At first, they thought they might leave her alone. People of all sorts traveled the road and what few coins most of the weary travelers carried were not worth the effort it took to take them.

However, they noticed something queer about this woman. They had never seen her before, despite knowing the inhabitants of the nearby villages quite well. Thus, she must have been on a long journey, and yet, she carried no sack of provisions such as one would need for such a trip.