I'll Tell You a Story

The White Sparrows

It was just a legend, but some knew the truth. The war began years ago, so did the deaths, and so did the famine. At the start, people killed each other to steal their food. It got worse and worse until later on, they killed people for human meat. It's difficult-trying to steer themselves toward sanity when there's nothing to eat.

And so the monsters were born, The White Sparrows. It took children, especially those ill, away from their families and killed them. Kids who looked at its eyes felt their body ripped open, their souls snatched out.

They said it could feed on children's fears, just like viruses when they were unhealthy. First, it would haunt children like a ghost, appearing anywhere, everywhere. Then the kids would go crazy, like some evil force pushing them to do awful things. That's where it would control and seize them. And up until now, like the moon, they always watch the kids from above.

"Are they after us, Finch?" Finch's four-year-old brother, Robin, quizzed him. His blissful guilelessness, gone.

"No, unless you'll not finish your food," Finch smiled and watched his brother wolfed the stew in the bowl.

"Are we safe here in the basement?"

Finch didn't answer, he just moved his chair closer to his brother, hoping he would feel safer. Robin had worries, on the other side, which why he kept asking his reassuring brother. He could tell that his brother was dying to talk about it again. Curiosity had always in him, and that wasn't stopping now.

He could understand the roots of his brother's insatiable desire for conversation. His family had been hiding them in the basement since his existence, their parents kept them pretty much in the dark, away from the monsters. His brother had never seen the outside world, never met anyone except for them. Sometimes thoughts would fluidly enter his mind, like how miserable it was to be a child in times of war.

"Yes," Finch said rather abruptly, wanting to be done with the conversation.

Almost a handful of dust waterfalled from the ceiling. Finch stared at his brother, saying nothing.

"What's going on Finch?" His brother mumbled, leaning toward him.

There was a flood of terror reflected in his brother's light green eyes. He could not directly look at Robin, his brother's gaze filling him.

Now, noises began to be heard from above. Someone was upstairs, walking around briskly for minutes like in search for something. Their parents, Finch thought. But it was odd. They would let them know right away if they were home, and they never forgot it, not even once. Could be a thief, looking for stored food. Maybe, worse, the monsters.

Adrenaline coursed through his blood and his heart was lodged in his throat. They traded glances and his brother appeared genuinely freaked out now, afraid of what they were going to hear next. They were immobile for next minutes, like corpses of a flayed torture victims, left out as a warning to the others.

"Are they monsters?" His brother's whispering scratched through the quiet room.

"Let me check," He replied in a hushed voice, walking to the door.

A strong force opened the door, powerful enough that it swung into him. His legs had become lumps of unfeeling ice and suddenly he was toppling sideways. He hit the ground with a grunt, gasping for breath.

Finch was struggling to stay awake when he heard Robin's voice exploded like thunder. "Monsters! Finch! Monsters!"

He saw some white figures dragging his brother upstairs. The monsters finally discovered them.

"Don't touch-" His voice came out in an uneven snarl. He gritted his teeth, his fury, and helplessness combining as the blackness rushed in.

"Poor kid, he really thought war exists," said a woman with hair pinned up in a sloppy bun, and face make-up free.

"Don't worry Finch, we are here to save you from your lying cannibalistic parents," uttered another woman in white-Dr. Hawkins.