Bedtime Fairy Tale

“A long time ago, when faes flitted through the forests and leprechauns stashed their gold in hollow trees-"

Joruhm groaned. "This part's boring. Can't we skip to the end?"

Jalen giggled. He rolled onto his back and his outstretched legs crossed over onto Joruhm's side of the bed. "Tell us about the demon horses!"

"Don't you want to know how Sorrow's Eve began?" their father said.

"Nobody gives a cow's udder about faes," Joruhm said.

"What's a fae?" Jalen asked.

Joruhm elbowed Jalen's ribs. "Don't be dumb. Scooch over, you're hogging the whole bed."

"If one little boy doesn't mind his tongue-"

"I'd rather have no story,” Joruhm said. “The festival's over. The Veiled Lady isn't real. She's never once visited Hobbins Glenn. Every year mama cries fake tears because she wears an onion around her neck, you put on a shroud, and we throw our stupid, little-"

"Hey!" Jalen shouted.

"Stupid, little statues on a bonfire, say some dumb prayer, and hope we're the ones The Lady picks."

"Who told you The Lady isn't real?" their father said.

Joruhm shrugged.

Joruhm's father laid a hand on Joruhm's chest. "The Lady's as real as the beat of your heart, the warmth from my hand. She won't come if you don't believe. If you misbehave."

"Is that why she never came for you?" Joruhm asked.

"I believe," Jalen said.

Their father smiled. He tousled Jalen's hair. "Would you like to hear the rest of my story?"

I wish she were real. I'd let her demon horses eat me! At least then I won't have ears.

"Tell us, Papa!" Jalen squeeled.

"Alright, Jalen. Close your eyes...Hmmm...Where was I?"

"There was some dumb woman who lived in a mansion beside a brook that channeled into the sea," Joruhm said.

"Joruhm."

"Sorry."

Their father cleared his throat. "The woman had twelve sons-"

"Were any of them twins?" Jalen asked.

"No twins. Just twelve boys, more vigor in their blood than wits in their head."

This's gonna take forever.

"The children loved their mother and she loved them, and for many years the family was blessed. The woman's husband had his money. The woman had her beauty. The children had their health. One and all were happy.

"Many years went by. The woman's husband died, and one by one her eldest sons grew into men, and they each ventured off to seek their fame and fortunes.

"One by one they returned. Some with frayed nooses around their necks, some with bones bent like broken twigs. Twelve became ten, ten became six, until only two children were left."

"What killed them?" Jalen asked.

"Same things that'll kill any man. Boastful bragging. War. Greed. Things, by The Lady's grace, you won't need to understand."

Joruhm sighed. "Her grief was so great she stitched together a mourning dress and veil made from the scraps of their bloody, torn clothes."

"Hey!” Jalen squeeled. “What about the black tear stains on her face? Her blue eyes turning red? The sheep shears she used to cut off all of her hair?"

Jorhum pinched Jalen beneath the blankets. "Who cares about sheep shears, idiot? What's important is that she was sad. Sad enough to spend every day the same as the next, every night the same as before, praying on her knees inside the chapel where she'd laid her sons to rest."

"Papa, make him tell it right, or not at all!"

Their father picked up the rushlight's saucer. "There'll be no coffin this Sorrow's Eve," he mumbled, as he blew out the candle and headed off to bed.

"I wanted to hear about the horses."

There was a sobby, boo-hoo quiver in Jalen's voice.

Oh no.

"If I finish the story, you promise not to cry?"

Joruhm felt Jalen's head nod against his shoulder. "If you tell it like Papa."

"I'm only telling the end."

"Deal."

"One night, the woman fell asleep in the church.

"She was awakened by a whisper.

"The whisper asked the woman why she was sad. Why she couldn't be happy.

"The woman told the whisper she missed her children.

"In an instant, a flurry of wind swept through the church. The candles' flames soared up to the ceiling and ten sillouhettes were cast upon the walls.

"One shadow swung from a gallows. One laid on a rack, its arms stretched as thin as a cobweb above his head. One danced in a bed of fiery coals.

"The whisper told the woman that as her sons grew into men the loss of their innocence had multiplied their sins.

"The woman vowed, there and then, she'd spare her remaining children, and the other children in the world, from the tortures she saw inflicted on the shadows.

"She marched her last sons to the sea, and held their heads beneath the waves until their feet lay still and their hands went limp.

"Every year, on the anniversary of their deaths, The Veiled Lady's funeral carriage rattles over the hills and she delivers coffins to all the deserving girls and boys. The end."

"Hey! You forgot the horses and-"

"Go to sleep."

"You think she'll ever bring coffins to Hobbins Glenn?"

Joruhm yawned. "If she does... I hope your name's on the lid."