Viridescent

They reckoned us children when they found us. Twins. I laughed when I learned what the word meant. They had no idea of our ages, and thought us womb-grown at the same time. My brother was older, although always small and sickly. And of course, we weren't grown in a womb at all.

It was daytime when we came to their land. Cold, damp and dull. My brother already regretted making the journey and wanted to turn back. I knew it'd kill him, so convinced him we must rest and build our strength. Then I'd get us home. I believed it, too.

But how to build our strength? They're not clever, these creatures. They didn't know how to feed us. We were already skinny and weak by the time they found us, and they gave us things that were all wrong. For days, we went with nothing at all. My brother grew weaker.

They didn't know how to talk, either. We had to learn the odd sort of flat singing they do to communicate with each other to be able to speak with them. Then they asked us all kinds of silly questions. Things which we were poorly equipped to answer, their crude tongue being shocking at conveying anything about where we were from to start with, and we being only infants in the use of it.

At last, they gave us something we could stomach, something from the garden. They called them broad beans. It wasn't much, but we were ravenous!

My strength grew quicker than his. When they immersed me in a baptism, I accepted it, knowing I could withstand it. I begged them, as best as I could in this new language, not to put my brother through the same ordeal.

I sit here, beside the pit they found us in, thinking about my brother. I looks at my hands. The natural green colour is almost completely gone from my skin, now. Daily, I look more like them. I adapt. To their world, their food. I dig my fingers into the grass and think about how I will get revenge on the priest for immersing my brother in the hellwater that killed him.

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Word count (excluding note): 366

Submitted on 11th March at 23.38

*Quick Author's Note*

First, and most importantly: thank you for reading!

Leave me a link to your own latest story, if I haven't already seen it!

Pay no attention to the writer behind the curtain: This is based on the stories about the Green Children of Woolpit, and incidentally has also been sat in my drafts since about the 12th century.

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A Year of Stories: I'm writing a story every day this year. This one makes a 71 day streak. I'm also putting them in my Index post.

Thank you

Thank you again! I do my best to reciprocate all reads.