Lights exploded across the night sky. Colorful banners intertwined overhead, lanterns bobbing like stars. Children squealed and screeched as they ran through the square. Women lifted large trays of food while scolding the young. Men maintained their course, unaffected even if three kids ran into them.
How they wasted their freedom.
Heavy boots drew near.
I pulled the tarp back over my cage, blocking out the festival in the distance. Sweat beaded on my neck with the thud of the boots. Once in a while, they would cause a small splash, water still flooding the grooves in the cobblestone.
Suddenly, they stopped.
My breath evened, mind expectant of what would come next.
The tarp flew off. Felix Sherman stared with hollow eyes, but I didn’t flinch.
He smiled. “How far you’ve come, pet.” His ebony skin blended with the shadows of the alley, though his perfect teeth and golden coat framed his silhouette. “To think five years prior you were as obstreperous as those rascals in the street.”
I focused on my calloused hands. Had it been that long since I’d seen Father? We’d been taken from our home when I was seven, and time lost meaning after that. Locked away without food or water for the crime of being born with magic. Brought back into the light to perform tricks for Sherman’s guests.
Well, only I performed.
My fingers clenched at the memory of my last attempt at escape. I shouldn’t have returned to the prison, should’ve known they would capture me again. But I had to find Father.
Now the truth haunted my dreams.
Sherman rattled the bars.
Hairs stood along my neck.
He chuckled. “Time to earn your meal.” A small chisel and hunks of wood clattered to the ground through the bars. “Try to make them a little unique.”
My hands moved of their own accord, grabbing the chisel and a piece of wood. I’d formed the shape plenty of times, a delicate rabbit with fine details. Years of crafting the same shape led to experimentation. Floppy ears versus short ears. Small feet and big feet. Thin or fat.
On this night, every variation I could think of left my hands. An army of rabbits hopped toward freedom, sunken eyes seeing everything.
First the obstreperous children cried with delight. Then the women yelped with fright. As gasps rolled through the crowd, Felix Sherman emerged from the alley, the Pied Piper of magic. Flowery words left his lips, people awed by his status and command over my creations.
I sat alone, wishing I’d never carved that first rabbit. I’d seen the sweet creature from afar, my young mind wanting to capture it forever. Father had witnessed my poor attempt and taught me how to properly carve.
The sweet memories soured. If I never saw a rabbit again, I’d die happy.
Turning over the chisel in my hand, I contemplated ending it all. But Father wouldn’t like that. He’d say it was a waste if he died only for me to kill myself. So what could I possibly do?
Growling sounds perked my ears.
A creature stood where Sherman had. Large feet stomping, hairy body menacing. Face obscured and claws prominent, it appeared unearthly.
My shoulder shuddered, skin chilling at the sight. I stuffed the chisel in my pocket in case it came near.
Its hands rose to its face. The mask came off, the adolescent looking directly at me with a strange gaze. His matted hair and pale cheeks appeared odd atop the monstrous body. “What are you doing in there?”
I scanned his presence, still comprehending.
He smirked. “Hiding from the Whifflebower? None escape him.” Putting the mask back on, he trudged with his claws raised. Growls echoed along the alley.
My head tilted the closer he got, eyes glued to where his should be. “Whifflebower?”
He garbled something before removing the mask. “Everyone knows the legend. The Whifflebower eats anyone stupid enough to get lost in the woods. He lives in caves, combing his oily hair with the ribcage of women. His claws are like that of a bear, his fangs like wolves. And he loves small children, so stop being dumb and act scared.”
A golden silhouette appeared behind him, more apparition than presence.
The boy turned with wide eyes. Dropping his mask, he ran further into the alley.
Felix Sherman quirked his lip. “That’ll be enough excitement, pet.” He returned the tarp over my cage and grunted while he pulled my cart along. “If only you carved more than bunnies.”
Could I?
Father had carved many things, but they didn’t come to life. Only the rabbits. Thoughts pieced together in my mind. Every design he made had the same characteristic: no eyes. So perhaps it was the eyes that made something real.
Meaning I could carve anything.
Locked in the basement of Sherman’s home, he gave me my reward. The chicken tasted dry and the potatoes unseasoned, but it was better than nothing. The small room seemed full of possibilities with the chisel in my pocket. Without a window, I couldn’t tell what time it was, but I knew Sherman wouldn’t want me for several days.
Using the tool, I chipped away at the leg of my bed. My fingers bled from accidentally nicking myself with the blade. But I had no choice; I had to work in the dark.
I caressed the figure I carved, trying to replicate what I had seen. Feeling the face, I used the edge of the blade to make the eyes. I set it on the ground and stepped away.
Silence.
Perhaps I’d been wrong.
Creaking and groaning rattled my bones. I pressed into the wall, wondering what I had created.
Heavy feet clunked up the stairs. Wood splintered until light streamed through the doorway. The Whifflebower filled the doorway, wooden features glistening. Its sunken eyes found something beyond the door, hulking form headed toward it.
My stomach twisted. The magic made it grow?
Screams filled the night.
Biting my lip, I tucked the chisel in my pocket and ran up the steps. Based on the shouts, everyone feared the Whifflebower.
Leaving me free to escape. And this time, they wouldn’t find me.