Story Contest 2018 #2 Results »

Highly Commended Story - Senior Category

Aneesah Firdaus Abdullah

“Oh, Offspring of Adam – Beware!” by Aneesah Firdaus Abdullah, Tazkia IIBS Malang School, Indonesia, is the Highly Commended story in the senior category of the second biannual Short Story Contest 2018.

Oh, Offspring of Adam – Beware!

As the sun sets and the stars twinkle, a shapeless soul howls its wrath upon the piercing wind of a dead-silent night. For those who stroll at night – beware! For only disaster shall befall upon them.

In amidst of gloom, amongst thorny brambles lies a lifeless town of Waeldestone, whereupon no soul dared to roam after sunset. Adhafera of the Farspyres’ was an exception; for the first-born child who holds the blood of the Farspyres was destined to be the unfortunate ‘night-keeper’.

One night during patrol, Adhafera felt a swift of wind touch her cheeks. “Achalla noer,” it whispered in her ear. “Huh!” she gasped. “Who’s there?” but only the sound of the distant howls replied. “Hoot... hooo,” the owls hooted. She twisted her shoulders to the abundant, primitive woods and gradually turned her head to the softaeolian whistle through the leaves. “Swoosh!” and the wind sliced through her rosy cheeks. “Chellstav gi’ona,”she heard the wind whistle. Her heart was now beating faster each second. Frightened and clueless, she scurried along the path, not knowing of what lies ahead. Indeed, it was a terrible mistake she had made for only misfortune awaits...

Panting and choking on her own breath, she stopped and leaned against an immensely grand birch only to find crimson stained drops on her ivory-coloured blouse. “Ouch!” she exclaimed as she flinched. She’d only realise the cut on her primrose cheeks. Staying there gave her goose bumps; she was unaware of the surrounding. “Achalla noer.” She heard it again! She anxiously reversed step by step as a mournful deformed shadow roamed past her. It rose higher for each step she took. All at once, everything stopped and a begrutten spirit was standing right in front of her. It gazed at her and she glared back. “Wh... who are you? What are you?” she trembled. “I am neither living nor dead, neither human nor spirit... I am Doriath! Oh, offspring of nymph! Thee has been living in falsehood, in ‘achalla noer’ and together we shall have vengeance! ”It continues on explaining:

“Seen as an unholy breed between a nymph and an Adam, I was a prisoner and enslaved by humans for thousands of years. Exorcised to death, they did not see it fit to bury me and, rather, left me upon this very tree. The heavens would never accept such a horrid sight as exorcism had set my soul ablaze. Humans have filthen this world and together we shall cleanse it!”

The woods roared and the lifeless trees seem to be somewhat chanting an ancient spell:

“Doriath! Anne niman ealdgenîðla unfulworht môdsefa
chellstav gi’ona, chellstav gi’ona, chellstav gi’ona.”

Slowly rising, Adhafera replied, “Though it may seem to be, humans have not enslaved me, but rather, an agreement was made: a nymph and an Adam shall live in harmony so long as a nymph protected the village from mystique forces.” Little did she know that the agreement would only benefit the humans and that they had superiority over the Farspyres.

“Fool!” roared Doriath, “for what thou may or may not see, the truth shall be the truth! Thou art a nobility fiteth to be worshipped!”

The chanting of the woods grew louder as each step Adhafera took back. Anxious and frightened, she reached her shaking fingers onto a dagger in her satchel. But before she could even use it, the wind snatched it off her hands. The wind slowly grew into a hurricane and her feet had suddenly stopped. She had lost control of her body: it was now plodding on its own towards a ray of illuminating light, shining from where the tree was uprooted.

Trod...trod...trod...

She’d only stop to find her self sorrounded by some unusual symbols carved onto soil. She took a look around and stopped. She knew exactly what she’s gotten herself into – a magic circle. She could feel her feet stiffening like stone, slowly rising to her legs and soon her waist as Doriath approached, colser and closer...

“In order for a soul to enter the human realm, a vessel is needed as a bridge between the human realm and the immortal world,” Doriath explained, “and you, my child, have been chosen.”

Now the howls of the distant wolves grew stronger as the ritual commenced. The forest continued chanting:

“Doriath! Anne niman ealdgenîðla, unfulworht môdsefa
Chellstav gi’ona, chellstav gi’ona, chellstav gi’ona
Onsîgan innan ðone as s¯ægrund êowic scêawian.”
“Doriath! Goddess of mankind, the answer to life
All hail the immortal, all hail the immortal, all hail the immmortal
Descend into the abyss thou see for only truth lies.”

“Aaaaaaggggghhhhh!” roared the immortal as it possessed the body of the nymph. It was now in full control. There was one thing left for it to do – vengeance!

As the sun rises and illuminates the sky, a vesseled soullurks in the woods in search for lostsouls to repair its own. Oh, sons of Adam – beware! For only disaster shall befall upon you.

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