Absolutely amazing fan-art done by the one and only @tearieyes! Thank you guys so much for all of the beautiful artwork and kind comments, it really has been motivating in my slower moments.
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By the time Jenna Hedgebrow had finished her tale of the lake monster, whispers about the strange boys had died down somewhat, and people were starting to get back into the stories being told once they'd taken off their frightening masks and had settled down to listen as well. As a small round of applause goes around for Jenna, who nervously bends into a small curtsy before taking her seat by the fire once more, Sampson barely turns his head to the side to get a close look at Foster sitting beside him, head reeling at the man's bold entrance and all of the questions he'd had for him the last two days. When Sam opened his mouth to ask him, he lost the words when his green eyes took in the brunette before him.
He looked... Sampson didn't have a word to describe it. Ethereal? Elysian? Otherworldly for certain, with his beautifully crafted fox mask lying in his cross-legged lap and the stunning, glittering jewelry hanging from about his ears and neck. His strange necklaces seemed to feature new candidates this evening; there were the usual clock hands and cogs, but along with them were crystals, shells, and even a small glass vial of what appeared to be... sugar? A white powder of some sort. Sam was absolutely mystified.
What he couldn't stop looking at though, was the dark silver line down the center of his full bottom lip. At first glance it looks like a small stripe of face paint, but now from a side view, Sampson realizes it is a lip piercing of some kind, glinting in the combined fire and moonlight of the night. He's taken aback by the boy's boldness and seeming indifference to such a scandalous piece of jewelry, but Sam isn't necessarily bothered by it. He could never say so out loud, but Sam quite enjoyed the way it looked on Foster. It suited him.
Accessories aside, the brunette was dressed well despite the oddness of the outfit. The black cloak about his shoulders had fallen open some with his laid-back position, exposing a white night tunic with the collar laces untied, simply hanging down the front of his chest. The shirt was loosely tucked into dark brown pants, cuffed at the ends and tied around the ankles with string or twine of some sort. He had no shoes on, his feet absentmindedly digging into the sand and creating grooves around themselves, and the blonde wondered how his feet weren't hurting from running through the woods like he had.
When Sampson looks back up to his face to take in the strange lip ring once more, his green eyes lock together with warm brown ones, and Sam quickly whips his head back to the side, warmth filling his cheeks as he decides it's time to focus on William standing beside him, who was the next to read. He pretends not to hear the quiet snort at his side, gaze now entirely focused on the front, embarrassed for being caught staring.
While Sampson had been busy taking in Foster's interesting appearance, David and William had been muttering heatedly to each other, gesturing a lot with their hands before finally ending with a deep, locked glare from both of them. Sighing, Will had turned away first, picking up his book and standing. He marches to the front of the fire, his frustrated expression ebbing some with the thumbs-up he receives from Jackson. The tall, gangly boy begins to read in a loud, clear voice often obscured by his more quiet nature, and Sampson was absolutely delighted with his story, even if it now lacked the special effects he and David had planned together.
The story is about a group of young settlers who'd been forging their way through uncharted lands, only to be slowly picked off one by one by a mysterious monster. It was already really good, even without the help from David that Will had originally planned to count on. William didn't talk much compared to Sampson and David, so it was refreshing to hear him speak for so long with such a clear, loud voice. Most everyone at the fire was enraptured with the boy's words, but soon enough the story was over much too quickly, ending almost a bit rushed as Will began to get overwhelmed by the attention. By the time he came to sit back down next to Sampson, eyes flicking curiously to Foster and the other four as he passes them, his cheeks were a deep red that could still be seen from the dim firelight. Sampson gives him a big grin and claps a hand over his shoulder.
"You did really good, William! I loved it." Sampson reassures his friend, who gives him a small, nervous smile and a nod.
Next up was Jackson, who was currently standing at the front, opening his journal with an excited grin on his face. Jackson's story was a thrilling one about a young adventurer who had been trapped in a cave with all manner of beasts and creatures. It wasn't necessarily scary, like Will's had been, but it was a good story none the less, especially with Jasper playing an eerie tune in the background. There were a few jump scares where Jackson would lunge out at the crowd and Jasper would slash across the strings of his bonjaw, making a few people scream in surprise before ultimately laughing about it moments later, but other than that the story was one of adventure and mystery. When Sampson turned his head to gauge how Will was feeling, he looked entertained and appreciative of their work, if a little bitter he couldn't do something similar. David had stopped paying attention to anything at all, and was currently pulling at the few pieces of sparse grass that had somehow pushed their way up through the sandy edges of the bank. He would occasionally glance up and at the back of someone's head, and it took Sam a few moments of watching him to realize that he was staring at a girl.
That must be Valentine Folly, then. She seemed very pretty, Sampson could give her that, if he already had a bit of a bad impression from David's soured attitude. She had wavy, jet black hair that fell to just above her shoulders, but that was all the blonde could tell from behind. In between checking on his friends and paying attention to Jackson's story, Sampson sat at the back of the crowd with his journal lying open on his lap, eyes flicking from the pastor's son to the pages and then back again, trying to get familiar with the words in his mouth so that when his time came he wouldn't mess anything up or stumble over his own tongue.
"You're gonna do just fine," Sam's head snaps up and to the side to look at Foster in surprise. The boy was looking straight ahead, and the blonde was almost convinced he'd said nothing at all until he continued. "So stop throwing a silent fit. You're making me nervous."
"You're one to talk about making people nervous." Sam mutters to himself, but a small smile spreads across his lips. He felt a little better. Just a little.
Jackson finally finishes his story with a large flourish of his hand and a deep bow, receiving as thunderous an applause as can be allowed from their small group. The pastor's son was grinning from ear-to-ear, happy for the reception, before his gaze flicked to Sampson and he motioned for him to come to the fire. Taking a deep breathe, Sampson stands and begins picking his way through the small crowd, notebook clutched tightly in his hands. As he reaches Jackson, who claps a heavy hand on his shoulder, the boy leans in to give him a curious glance.
"Do you know those boys, by any chance? I thought I saw you talking to one of them." Jackson murmurs to the blonde was everyone quietly chatters to themselves, and Sampson's brow furrows in confusion.
"I know one of them, yes, but none of the others. I didn't invite them, if that's what you're worried about," Sampson reassures the blue eyed boy, who nods appreciatively and goes to sit back down. Before he does, Sampson catches his attention again, saying "Oh, Jackson? One of them would like to tell a story after mine, if it's okay."
"Of course, that should be fine," Jackson nods. "Then we'll take a break, let people eat and listen to music, and take votes on which story was the best."
"Alright, thank you!" Sampson smiles, before settling in his place at the front of the crowd. Nerves were eating away at his stomach, and his breath was coming short as he takes in all of the eyes on him. At the back of the crowd were William and David; William was giving him an encouraging thumbs up, and even David had stopped moping for a minute to give him a small smile. Close to where Sampson had been sitting was Foster, who's sharp gaze hadn't left Sampson since he'd gotten up to begin.
"Okay," Sampson clears his throat nervously before taking a deep breath and looking down at his journal. "Our story begins with a young man traipsing through the woods in the dead of night without a care in the world. He had a bottle of liquor in one hand, and a slowly dying lantern in the other..."
Some of the people that had been whispering among themselves had finally stopped and turned to listen. Somehow this was both worse and better than the stares he usually got in the school yard. Swallowing roughly around the lump in his throat, Sam continues, trying to keep his eyes locked onto the paper in front of him.
"He was looking for his dog, his only companion, who had been lost for several days now. Urged on by the alcohol in his veins and the grief of potentially losing his pet, and not stopping to think about why the dog had run away, the man had decided to go into the woods to look for him in the middle of the night," Flipping a page he continues, taking a moment to glance up at his friends in the back. William was giving him a thumbs up and all of his attention, and even David had stopped tugging at the grass in front of him to listen, giving Sampson a small smile. "At first he at least knew where he was going, calling the dog's name so loud and for so long that his voice soon grew hoarse. This didn't last long, though, as the deeper he went into the woods the more the moon's light was blocked by the slowly thickening canopy above, until the only light he had left was the slowly sputtering flame in his hand."
With another glance up, Sampson notices Foster looking at him now, sharp gaze intense and hanging on to every word. He'd already sneaked a peak at a page or two of the story and had said he'd liked it, but it didn't help the blonde's nerves any with him staring at him like that.
"The man, in his confused and intoxicated state, eventually gave up on finding the dog and turned to go home, only to realize he had no idea where he was. Desperate to just get home, he began crashing through the woods without a care in the world, not watching where he was going or looking out for what was underfoot. Eventually, his lantern burned all of it's kerosene, and the man was left alone in the darkness of night," Sampson turned a page once more, trying to gauge the reactions of some of his peers. Jackson was staring at him curiously, Sampson assumed in interest of the story, while Jasper and Alexander muttered and snorted to themselves a few seats away. A few of the girls had begun to clutch the arms of the beau's beside them, but most everyone there looked disinterested or bored already. "When in the woods, you always watch where you're stepping. This is something we're all told as we grow, but in panic we often forget common sense and run on instinct. That was why the man didn't notice the circle of mushrooms he'd stomped into before it was too late."
"He'd ignored all of the warning signs thus far, or just hadn't noticed them; the flowers and fungi flourishing in strange places, or the lack of chattering bugs and frogs of the night. The quiet, barely-there peals of laughter, drowned out by the sounds of his own heavy breathing and crunching footsteps. All of this combined would soon lead to his demise," Will and Dave were looking at him knowingly, finally realizing what he'd meant by saying they'd given him the idea. It made him smile before continuing on. "As the man stepped into the circle, he was suddenly surrounded by light, blinding him from the difference of the darkness he'd gotten adjusted to. Where there was once silence, an overwhelming amount of noise now met his ears. There was beautiful music, tinkling laughter, and the sound of clinking glasses all about him. As he gasped and stumbled about, finally prying his hands away from his eyes, gasps were heard from all around as he finally took in the sight before him."
Another flip of the page. The group of four in the back were talking among themselves quietly, their brows furrowed and shoulders tense. They weren't the only ones talking, but Sampson didn't understand why they seemed upset. Were they just scared? The blonde couldn't tell, but at this point he didn't really care as long as Foster's eyes were on him, which they were. There was a small upturn at the corner of the brunette's lips, his brown eyes narrowed and unblinking. For just a second, Sampson is reminded of their reflection in the back of a spoon, and he feels a shudder go up his spine before continuing.
"He was no longer in the dark quiet of the woods. Instead, the man was now in a magnificent open ballroom in the middle of a clearing, the kind you only heard about in fairy tales. Surrounding him were strange folk of all kind; women with sharp teeth and glittering, crystal-like insect wings, and men with pointed ears and strangely colored eyes. At the front of the spacious area was a raised platform with a grandiose throne sitting atop it. In it was a lovely woman with long blonde hair and the most delicate, gorgeous butterfly wings he'd ever seen, but what really caught his attention was the dog sprawled out in her lap," Sampson began to smile now, a mischievous curl to his lips that was the only warning to come. "It was being fed all manner of delicious looking treats, plucking them straight from the nimble fingers of the crowned woman herself. In his shocked, drunken stupor, the man didn't think for one second more before he yelled for the strange people around him to return his dog to him this instant."
Sampson was beginning to notice people zoning out here and there, whispering to each other and eating their snacks. It was fine; he didn't expect undivided attention. He just wishes they'd give him a chance. The good part would be coming soon, after all.
"There were cries of outrage all around him, of anger and displeasure and any other negative emotion you can think of, all in a strange tongue he couldn't understand. They soon quieted when the woman on the throne raised a hand, and all fell silent. Picking up the man's dog gently, whose hackles had raised and ears had flattened at the sound of the man's voice, she stands and sets the pup down on the throne behind her before turning to glare daggers at the drunk man," Foster was quietly whispering to one of the boys without looking at them now, eyes still locked onto Sampson, and green eyed boy wishes he could hear what was being said. "'You dare enter my court in the midst of our celebration, and demand we return this poor creature to you?' The woman's voice booms out among the congregation in a way he can finally understand, though it was broken and lilting, like she wasn't supposed to be able to speak them. Anger coursing through his veins at being talked down to in such a way, the man opens his mouth to yell at what he could only assume was some kind of Queen, but with a flick of her wrist he finds he cannot utter a single word. 'When we found him, he was half-starved and beaten. He is our guest, but you sir, are not.'"
Jackson had to turn around to shush a few people behind him, whose whispers had grown far too loud. Sampson shot him a grateful look, though he already knew how this was going to turn out. He didn't know how good the other stories were going to be before deciding to go close to last; everyone's attention spans were running short, and he was in their way of the much more entertaining events to be had, like music and voting on who wins.
"'For your crimes of cruelty, and for disrupting my celebration without so much as an ounce of respect or apologetic fair, you will be be punished.' Were the last words the man could understand before blinding pain coursed through him. As he fell to his hands and knees on the floor, his limbs contorting and bones cracking, the once beautiful laughter around him turned menacing and warped, and he could do nothing but lay there on the ground until whatever the terrifying woman had done to him was complete," Sampson's grin widens, and he pays no mind to the fact people weren't paying any attention anymore; he was having fun. "There in the man's place was now a gangly stag, one who's antlers were far too large for his head. He stumbled about on his new four legs, unbalanced and scared, before the fear of the situation finally hits him full force. Turning and beginning to sprint away into the woods surrounding what was once a ball, stumbling over his new found limbs, the man heard footsteps begin to pound after him, along with a number of growls and howls from what sounded like hunting dogs."
"And that's when the man realized; he was being hunted. Adrenaline courses through him as he gallops, and while he's no longer drunk, the new form forced upon him proves to be too difficult to move in," Closing his journal on the last page, Sampson looks up at the crowd and gives them a half-smile. "His last words before he was caught were the bleating screams of prey falling to the hunt, his own dog having lead the charge. Uh... the end?"
People clapped for him politely, others joining in later as they noticed the story was finally over, but all of them were outmatched by the ridiculously loud applause of his two friends in the back. Sampson grins at them as Jackson stands, giving the blonde a small smile.
"That was quite the tale, Sampson. I apologize on behalf of the few who interrupted it here and there," He gestures for the blonde to take a seat, before clapping his hands together to gather everyone's attention. "I know you're all eager to really kick off the festivities with some music and chatter, but we have one more person here reading for you tonight. Please give your full attention to..." Jackson raises an eyebrow at Sampson.
"Foster." Sampson mutters to the raven haired boy before making his way back to the edge of the crowd, giving the aforementioned brunette an encouraging smile as he passes. Foster returns it with a smirk, leaning in to mutter a quiet 'I told you it was good' before making his way to the front of the fire to stand beside Jackson. Sampson's smile widened at the praise, before he goes to plop down beside William and David once more. William gave him a dull punch to the arm and a big grin, and David seemed to be in a better mood now, giving Sam a thumbs up before the three of them turned once more to look at the front.
The blonde could feel multiple eyes on him to the side from the group of Foster's friends, but he tried to pay it no mind. He'd have the brunette introduce him to them all when the time came, but for now he was excited to listen to the boy's story.
"To our guest Foster." Jackson nods, giving the brown eyes boy a wary smile before sitting back down. Unlike with Sampson's story, the circle around the fire was quiet once more. They were excited to hear what the strange boy had to say, especially after his curious entrance. He held no piece of paper or a journal of any kind, only the fox mask he'd entered with clutched in his hand, but his head was held high with confidence, his posture perfect in the firelight. Sampson was excited.
"Before man, there was nature," The brunette begins, bringing the beautifully crafted mask up to his face so that it stared out at them all, it's empty eyes piercing through Sampson's own. "And nature alone. Everything lived in perfect, terrifying harmony; a delicate game of cat and mouse, friend and foe, predator and prey. This balance needed to be maintained at all costs, and so to protect it, nature created what we now call the Guardians."
Heads turn at the shuffling sound of fabric, and Sampson looks over his shoulder to see the four boys that had arrived with Foster had donned their masks once more under their hoods. The brunette still held his up in the light of the fire, his smirk widening.
"They were great, powerful beings hidden under the guise of normal animals. Their purpose was to protect the nature around them, and to keep balance. To do this, they were granted with extraordinary abilities, but the natural world held no big threats besides itself, so there was never a need for them to use them. That is," Foster's tone turns dark, his eyes narrowing. "Until man came."
People were whispering here and there uncomfortably, but other than that the boy had everyone's undivided attention. Sampson held on to every word, eyes wide as Foster donned the mask once more, his brown eyes shadowed.
"Man cut and burned down acres of land, dumped their sewage and waste into the pure streams and rivers of the world from which they needed to drink, and hunted many a species into total extinction. Nature was crying, and it was finally time for the Guardians to defend what was theirs," The brunette's voice raises, carrying clearly over the heads of the small crowd before him. I was like he was made to do this. "Rivers would overflow and flood fields of crops. The earth would shake so violently that great chasms would open and swallow entire settlements. Natural fires would rage through the plains and the woods, burning anything man-made to the ground and leaving a clean slate for nature to move in once more. Great whirlwinds of dust and air would rage through roads and tear apart everything in it's path. Nature was declaring war."
"As is the way of man, though, they continued to come back time and time again. They continued to rebuild, to destroy and create at a pace nature couldn't keep up with, and when they realized the Guardians were behind the disasters plaguing them and sought to hunt every last one of them down, to drive them to extinction like the many other species they already had," Foster's voice was full of emotion; anger, grief, sadness. He was getting really into it, and it proved to make the story all the better. "And so one by one, the Guardians of nature were hunted, their once beautiful faces turned into masks of trickery. Man would don these masks and then go unnoticed by Nature, free to wreak as much havoc as they pleased until another one of the Guards would come along and try to stop them." He gestures to the mask on his face, and people turned to stare at the other masks the boys were wearing.
"Finally, the last Guardian was slain, and man thought they were free to do as they pleased. At first, they were; they destroyed and developed to their hearts content, unaware they were killing themselves in the process. They poisoned their own rivers and drank from the polluted waters, tilled the soil till it could grow crops no more, and burned through natural materials until there were scarcely any left," People had begun to shift uncomfortably now, knowing that some truth shone through Foster's words, but none of them knew what to say. "They didn't realize until it was far too late that they were apart of the balance the Guardians had been trying to protect, and in riding the world of them, they'd doomed themselves to a slow extinction."
"It's easy to forget that you're living in somebody else's scary story when you create your own, filling your heads with monsters and frights in the night," Foster spits out, voice partially muffled behind the mask. "But ask yourself; in the end, who here has truly been the monster?"
Silence. That's what meets his question. People looked at each other uncertainly, scratching at their heads or clutching their hands tight together. Some seemed defensive, while others sympathetic. In the end, their reactions didn't matter; Foster was finished. Sampson was the first to begin clapping, followed by William and David, and then everyone else. The group of masked boys didn't clap, and Foster didn't bow. They all simply took off their masks and looked solemnly at the brunette, mouths pressed into thin lines and eyes avoiding the gazes of anyone else.
"That was excellent," Jackson rises to give Foster a nod, but the boy was already walking to the back of the crowd once more, head held high and ignoring all of the strange looks he received. Sampson didn't miss the way Jackson's eyes followed the brunette, the area around them tight. "Well then, I... I suppose it's time for everyone to split up and talk among yourselves. I'll be going around and taking a vote, so if I don't get to you please find me at some point and tell me who you're voting for!"
Excited chatter burst out of the jittery crowd, everyone standing and stretching their legs, talking excitedly about the stories they'd just heard and which ones were the scariest. Sampson jumps to his feet and goes to walk up to Foster, who had avoided his gaze since the end of his story, but William clamped a hand on his shoulder and began to ask him questions about his own story, David pitching in here and there.
All the while they talked, Sampson's gaze kept flitting back to the stony expression on Foster's face. He really had taken that story seriously. The five boys murmur to themselves, before Foster finally cracks a smile and ruffles the shaggy black hair of the boy with the mole mask before the group splits up, the five of them each going to mingle in the crowd of people or to find something to eat. In the blink of an eye, Sampson loses sight of Foster, before turning back to his conversation with David and William.
The blonde would get that boy alone by the end of the night to talk to really talk to him if it was the last thing he'd do.
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YOU ARE READING
Soup Spoon |Discontinued|
Fantasy𓆏 Highest Rank: #1 in LGBTfantasy [This story was inspired by @junebugs.n.scones' OC TikTok series, also know as @actualtrash402 on Wattpad!] 𓆏 Sampson Whittager hasn't lived with his grandparents in over ten years, but when his father dies of a...
