full collection of my spooky, campfire, creepy pasta, horror tales and stories.
Reader discretion is advised, however there is NO adult material included.
originally written in 2015 and revised 2018. posted to sixpenceee forum under the username "KatVonHall".
while watching some myths and legends videos on youtube I learned about an Irish legend where parents would leave open scissors next to their sleeping children to ward of fae folk.
it is said that if they didn't a fae could take their child and leave in their place, a changeling - a baby fae who took on the looks of the stolen child. However as they grew up changes would start to show until the parents could finally see the true form of the fae, by this time of course, it was too late. It gave me an idea and, this is the result.
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How did I get here? Does it matter? I guess to some it might...
I was left with my family as a baby; they never actually told me this I just kind of always knew. To my mother's credit she never treated me any different to my siblings, not until....
As a young child of about four or five my siblings started to treat me badly. It started out innocent enough; when we played games like hide and seek and I was seeking they would run off and make it hard for me to find them. If by any chance I did manage to find them they'd tell me I was being dumb and should have known where they were - such is the logic of a five year old and twin eight year olds. The problem with growing up on a large farm surrounded by forests and dense woods is that there are so many places for people to hide. When I was hiding I would find a really good spot - too good it seemed because they could never find me and my mother had to yell my name until I came out. When I got older I clicked that they just never came looking for me.
When we played blind man's buff they would tie a scarf tight around my eyes and spin me until I could barely stand; I came close to almost falling in the cold river behind our house a few times and it made my father angry. Father wasn't home much and he didn't like me - mother would tell him to stop being so hard on me and to stop accusing me of petty things - I was just a child and never meant harm. He'd always side with my older twin brothers against me. I wanted him to be proud of me, but to him I was a disappointment so I simply became closer to my mother. We would enjoy some shopping and getting our hair done by my aunt, who doted on me. We didn't have a lot of money to spend, especially in the winter, but we made do with what we had and I was happy with this. My life wasn't that bad; there were people who had it much worse and mother always taught me to be grateful for what I did have; so I was.
School was an interesting time; I quickly learned how mean children of my own age could be. My hair would be pulled on a daily basis, the boys tripped me up, the girls pushed me into mud and snow, in the summer it was into the bushes of stinging nettles. Mother would soothe me and dress any cuts and scrapes but father would simply grunt. Even after what my brothers did to me at home I held out hope that they would defend me at school, it never happened - they simply joined in.
As I got older I developed a skin condition that turned patches of it almost a stone grey and I had small bumps on my head and my hair started falling out. Father would blame my mother but I never understood why; she would try to quiet their fighting until I was asleep. Until she thought I was asleep.
