The Children of Coral & Bone

Every night at midnight, the purple clouds came out to dance with the blushing sky. They would swirl and grow until even the moon was swallowed up by their rhythmic movements. Their voracious appetite was almost enough to rival that of the Children’s.

The so-called “Nimbus Conundrum” had been making headlines for weeks. Stories of strange mauve clouds appearing every night precisely at sunset had meteorologists perplexed and townsfolk anxious. That’s when the murmuring started. The Children were back. They wanted to steal people’s infants straight from their cradles. No–it was pets they were after. Best not to let your dog out after dark. Farmers were afraid for their livestock, saying the Children had come to drain any domestic beast of their lifeforce.

Calling them “children” seemed like a bit of a stretch to Charlie. She had never actually seen one as a child, and was thoroughly convinced they must crawl out of the caves near the bluffs as fully grown adults. But everyone in town spoke of them in whispers. The Children were much like humans, as far as she could gather, and the creatures would congregate under every full moon at the edge of the bluffs to perform their mysterious rituals.

Tonight, she had planned a stake-out to put to rest, once and for all, the wild myths and fancies her friends and neighbours had conjured over the decades since their first appearance. Or supposed first appearance. Some accounts of similar brutish creatures dated back to the 18th century, others argued that mediaeval accounts of fairies were the true origin of this species. Whatever the case, they seemed to fade in and out of existence every handful of years.

Charlie had spent ages connecting dots through history, and what better way to find the truth than through first-hand experience? At any rate, she believed a primary source was exactly what she needed for her thesis on modern folklore.

Was it a bit reckless? Only if the stories are true, she thought to herself, huddled behind a thicket, audio recorder gripped, white-knuckled in her fist.

She gazed up at the purple clouds as they crowded out the last sliver of the moon.

“Any minute now,” she whispered to herself.

A stiff breeze swept across the bluffs with a wail that sounded eerily human. Every tiny hair on Charlie’s body stood at attention and a small voice inside her urged her to leave. Stubbornly, she pushed the thought aside, intent on capturing her white whale.

Then she saw them. They walked single file up to the edge of the cliffs, materialising much like the strange clouds, red hoods covering what Charlie hoped were human faces. They fanned out along the edge, toeing the line between solid ground and open air. Charlie’s heart raced. Her skin grew cold and the wind howled as if in agony. In unison, the troop raised their hands to the clouds, billowing sleeves falling back to reveal thin, pale arms. A low hum rose from the creatures’ lips, like a great swarm of bees, rising in pitch with the wailing winds until it reached a great crescendo and then fell into a dead silence.

Charlie’s pulse pounded against the stillness. Her palms grew clammy and she felt as if she were breathing all too loudly.

The centre-most creature dropped its arms and let out a deafening, ululating call.

Charlie wobbled in place, startled by the sudden burst of sound. She fumbled the recorder between her hands until it bounced and skidded away from her.

The red hooded heads turned towards her in perfect unison and Charlie froze under the weight of their eyeless stares.

She stared back, her mind racing faster than it ever had during any three hour essay exam. Her limbs pleaded with her to move. Her head begged her to run. The shrouded faces silently demanded she stay.

The ululating one stepped towards her.

Charlie grew frantic, yet she couldn’t even move her eyes away from the things before her.

It lifted a thin, grey finger, walking purposefully forward. The others began to whisper in anxious, hissing tones and huddled in close behind their leader.

Charlie held her breath.

The creature stopped, its pointed fingernail hovering just inches from her forehead.

Summoning every ounce of strength within her, she managed to squeeze a single syllable through her lips.

“Please,” she squeaked.

The creatures jumped, hissing like feral cats. The leader drew its hand back as the others grew as frenzied as the gales. The creatures surrounded her, red cloaks whipping about in the wind. Charlie screeched as they descended upon her. She thrashed her arms at them, and while her blows found their targets, they fell upon them as if against coats on a rack.

In mere moments, Charlie’s vision was crowded out by red wool. The fabric felt coarse against her skin, her throat was raw from screaming. The wind howled with her and the creatures began to hum again, high and bright.

The purple clouds shifted and swirled above, as if moving with the Children. Charlie gasped and sobbed. The red wool in her sights became fuzzy and pockmarked with stars. Her skin grew hot and her already loose grip on reality finally let go into darkness.