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The Library => Your Stories => Topic started by: DoviDoes on 08:17:28 PM 09/04/18

Title: The Fata of Everything
Post by: DoviDoes on 08:17:28 PM 09/04/18
I used to be able to make the Fata go away.

If nobody here knows what that means, good, that’s normal. I just wanted to get your attention. I’ve got a story to share, and a favor to ask.

I remember everything about the first day I was followed. Even the little stuff, like how the wind kept tickling the back of my neck. After rubbing at my neck repeatedly, I raked my nails across it. The pain drowned out the itch.

That wasn’t smart. But I had other things on my mind.

It was the third time that week my mom had forgotten to pick me up from middle school, and didn’t answer when I called. Luckily, our neighborhood was within walking distance of the middle school. It was a familiar walk.

That’s why it was a shock to be met with a chorus of howls and barks. The neighborhood dogs, who’d long ignored me as I passed, suddenly couldn’t tolerate my presence. Chain link fences thankfully held them back.

I wanted to just run home right away, but I felt like all my neighbors could be staring at me. A strange self-consciousness gripped me, but didn’t stop me from walking quickly. The street was long and my house was near the end, so I had a ways to go.

I’d almost made it when a large St. Bernard came barreling out of the open garage to my left. I’d known Cavall all her life, she was the sweetest dog I knew, and her family rightly trusted her off the leash. Knowing this didn’t make me any less terrified of her teeth as she growled at me louder than I’d ever heard her bark.

Instead of charging, she stood her ground a few feet away, ceaselessly growling. Wary of provoking her further, I backed away steadily. Every step I took, she took one as well, and Cavall viciously escorted me out of her territory.

Once I was past the property line, visible in the difference between lawns, she stopped following me. From this distance, I could finally see it. She wasn’t growling at me.

On the section of sidewalk cast in my shadow, there was a small, circular blur.  It didn’t go away when I blinked. When I took a few more steps back, it disappeared as sunlight re-claimed that square of sidewalk. I watched as the blur moved back into my shadow. I finally screamed and sprinted home.

It kept following me everywhere. Mom couldn’t see it when she woke up to make dinner. I didn’t tell her, because I didn’t know what to call it, and she yelled at me whenever I took too long to think of a word. No one at school could see it either. Animals didn’t like me anymore though, and that somehow upset me most of all.

For weeks, I couldn’t think of anything but how to get rid of it. Just knowing it was always there scared me. Finally, one Saturday, I was curled up on my bedroom floor when inspiration struck. Suddenly sure of what to do, I eagerly gathered everything I needed.

I carried it all to our rarely used basement: a blanket, a wooden stirring spoon, and the largest pot in our house. I set the pot face down and covered myself with the blanket, letting it drape over my head and shoulders like a cloak. Taking a deep breath and closing my eyes, I struck out rhymically with the spoon. It wasn’t a song, but a perfect alignment between myself and everything else.

That’s the best way I can think to describe it. I just suddenly knew what to do. Nothing had felt more right in my life until that moment, and nothing has felt as certain since.

When I opened my eyes again, I was dizzy enough to collapse with a painful smack to the cement floor. But I was no longer being followed.

Unfortunately, the Fata didn’t stay away. It was never more than one at a time, but they always came back. They were still returning routinely throughout the rest of middle school and the most of high school.

Each time, I got rid of them myself. The specifics of what I needed to grab would change, and the rhythm never really sounded the same, but I had the power.

And it was exhausting. By this year, my senior year, I felt like I couldn’t take it anymore. I needed to get help.

There was a girl in my grade that I suspected might know something. We’d had a few classes together, and whenever I was around her I felt a strange sensation. I’d dismissed it as a crush, but I was desperate to reconsider anything that might be a clue.

I approached her in the library after lunch. She was reading in the corner, but gave me her attention right away. Once I sat down, I took an embarrassing amount of time to explain what I wanted to know. She finally interrupted me, gave me two sets of names and addresses of people who could help, and told me not to talk to her about this again.

The first address belonged to a guy called Owen. It was a decently long bike ride away, on the outskirts of the nearest town from mine. As soon as I was off my bike, Owen was right there shaking my hand and leading me into a barn to meet his other clients. They all looked like freaks in their own way, but I wasn’t in a place to judge.

I asked if Owen could make it so I was never followed again. He said he’d had clients that never had to come back, and others that been coming for years. There was no guarantee. I biked home disappointed.

The second address turned out to be a regular house like mine. It was only a little harder to bike there, in the opposite direction of the first one. My mom wouldn’t have liked me biking this far, but I wasn’t open to considering alternatives.

Mel and Megan, the couple who lived there, looked concerned as I struggled to catch my breath. They brought me inside, brought me water and snacks, and we sat on opposite couches. I explained everything.

It was these two who told me the blurs were called Fata. I’d called them all kinds of things in my head, but I’d never known their name. It made me feel like I was already making progress.

After asking every question I didn’t really care about, I asked if they could make the Fata go away forever. They said yes. I’d have to meet with them weekly for several months, and every time we met it would be harder, but it would be worth it. Mel and Megan promised that at the end, the Fata would never return. I believed them.

The next part is difficult for me to think about. Our meetings never cost money, which was good, because I barely had any. Instead, they asked me to do errands. After each one, we’d do a session together, and no Fata followed me the whole time.

The errands started out as normal stuff, like picking up a package or sweeping their sidewalk. It only gradually got sketchy. When they asked me to steal from their neighbors’ yards, I obviously hesitated, but I did it. I even tripped a few strangers and broke some windows. When they asked me to hurt a kid, I never went back.

Within the week, a Fata was following me again. I went through the usual routine, and it didn’t work. I couldn’t connect with the universe like before. After sitting in the dark for hours each day, trying to hit the pan correctly, I knew I had to risk asking for help again.

Owen said he couldn’t help me anymore. Something had changed too much inside of me for his methods to work. He looked like he was going to cry as he closed the door. I did cry, especially after the girl at school refused to even talk to me. I thought I was alone before, but it turned out things could get worse.

And it keeps getting worse. The Fata no longer wait their turn. More and more are appearing each day. Any time I’m in darkness, even a shadow, it feels like I’m suffocating.

If you’ve read this far, I hope I can trust you. I don’t know if this will work, but there’s a glimmer of something still inside of me that knows it will.

Grab what feels right: something to cover yourself, something to strike, and something to strike with.

Head to the darkest room in your house and wrap what you grabbed around you.

Close your eyes, and play the rhythm that comes to you until it feels complete.

Please help me make the Fata go away.
Title: Re: The Fata of Everything
Post by: urkelbot666 on 10:34:42 AM 09/05/18
I thought that this one had some good elements to it, and I liked the voice of the narrator. I understand the purpose of word limits on contest stories, but it's a shame that they can sometimes be a detriment to the pieces that get submitted. I feel like that may have happened here.

There's some good mythos set up, but I felt myself wanting more. I wanted to know more about the Fata and what exactly they do or cause in less broad terms. What is here is enough to let the reader know what they imply in terms that are relatable, but I still felt myself wanting a more concrete image of this entity. The stuff about the people who are there to help remove the Fata was enjoyable to me. In those instances, I liked the vagueness, and the faith element.

The ending seemed a bit abrupt and like a bit of a necessity, and I again think that word limit is the culprit. I would have liked to see this one evolve a bit more and end in a slightly less classic-creepypasta tone. I found myself more interested reading this than creeped out. However the writing was competent and got across some of the dread that the narrator felt. Though I personally would have liked a bit more, as it is, it still works as a little thought provoking pasta. Good work :)