Dew's Story

A young teenage boy ran through the streets, desperate to escape the officer on duty. He panted but continued, soon hiding in a nearby crate in an alleyway. He heard the policeman's shoes on the cobblestone road as he ran past and he breathed out a sigh of relief. His hair was dark grey and his skin light brown. His eyes were green and his jacket torn and tattered. He peeked out of the crate and saw that the coast was clear. He leaped out and looked around the corner of the alleyway and yelped as a rough hand grabbed his jacket tightly. He turned his head to see the policeman. His face was sweaty and red and his eyes looked like they were about to burst out of his skull.
 "You're in deep trouble you little thief!" he growled and began dragging Dew through the crowded streets.
It was the week of Death and everyone was busy getting ready. Nobody paused to help as they were caught up in their own little world. When the week of Death came, everyone was as busy as bees. Always working, short breaks. They said a spirit changed every year and no-one knew when it would arrive and what it would look like. One had looked like a devil, one a cross between a snake and human and one with the muscle showing. But there was one thing was hoping that would never be the Death spirit. And that was a skeleton. Dew squirmed but the policeman's grip was tight. The policeman squealed and jumped back as a cloud of smoke swirled where he was about to stand. Everyone suddenly stopped and turned and watched as the smoke grew into a figure. As the smoke cleared, a figure walked out, scythe in hand. Their face nor body was able to be seen and everyone suddenly bowed, even the policeman. Dew was pushed forward and was the only one standing, besides the figure. He couldn't bring himself to look up at the Death spirit and concentrated on the ground.
 "Oh, Death spirit. We have brought forth a gift for you! A young filthy thief! He has done this town no good and should be punished! Take this boy as an offer of our loyalty!" the policeman cried.
Dew stiffened as a hand was rested on his shoulder. Without any control over it, he looked up to where the spirit's head would be. He noticed a faint glow from within the hood of the robe but his tongue wouldn't work. The hand pulled back and he watched the scythe twirl. A voice shattered the silence and he knew it was from the Death spirit.
 "Mortals! Rise!" the voice was loud and fiery and brought the villagers to their feet.
The robed figure looked at everyone of them and they covered Dew's ears with their hands and soon a screech filled everyones ears. They covered their ears and screamed. The screech soon died and everyone cautiously removed their hands from their ears. The figure removed their hands from Dew's ears and pulled him behind them.
 "You villagers are the ones who should be punished! Back and forth in your own little worlds and don't see what horrors you're all doing! Arresting those who are less fortunate and not even giving them a helping hand. You will all be unable to move from your current positions as you receive your punishments!" it screeched.
It pulled back its hood and everyone screamed in fear. The robe fell and a skeleton was standing there. Its skull was engulfed in fire and it had chains around its wrists and forearms and their right leg. It had black leather pants and a scorched brown shirt and black thick jacket. Everyone scrambled and the skeleton ran after them, scythe swinging. Dew watched and ran also, back to the crate he was hiding in before. He hid in the crate and heard the screams and shut his eyes and hugged himself. He felt tears roll down his cheeks and suddenly the screams stopped. He opened one eye and peeked out of the crate and saw blood and everyone either cut in half or beheaded. He slowed his breathing as he saw the skeleton using a jacket to clean the scythe. The fire was still going strong and it was leaning against a cart. He crept out and stuck to the shadows as he inched to the exit of the alleyway. He peeked around the corner and it was still there. Dew saw its head turn to where he was and he swung his head back around the corner. He heard footsteps come closer to where he was hiding and looked around for a weapon. He saw a rock and grabbed it, readying himself for a fight. He heard the footsteps stop and he could hear his heartbeat pounding in his ears. It was soon in front of him and he screamed in fright. He slid down to a sitting position and buried his head in his arms as he cried. The skeleton tilted its skull slightly as he cried.
 "P-please! D-don't kill m-m-me!!" he stammered, continuing to cry.
He looked up and saw the skeleton crouching to meet his eye level. It lay the scythe to the right of it on the ground it had a hand on Dew's shoulder. He sniffed and felt tears roll down his cheeks. A piece of cloth was in its free hand and it wiped his tears away and wiped his nose. It stood and picked up the scythe, holding out hand to help him up. He took it and was surprised how strong it was. It nodded and whipped its skull around and looked out of the alley way. It ran over to a stall with bread and fruits, sack in hand and stuffed it with bread and a few apples. It brought its fingers to its jaw and whistled. Dew couldn't understand how but it did. He heard a horse coming closer and watched as a damaged horse came galloping to the skeleton. Some of the flesh was near its ribs and stomach and flank but other than that it was all bone. A saddle was on it along with the reins and bridle. The skeleton tied the bag onto the left side of the saddle, another bag in hand with something in it that Dew didn't know and tied it firmly onto the right side of the saddle. It was soon up on the horse and he watched as it trotted over to him. The skeleton held out a hand and he looked back at the bloody town and dead villagers. Even if he did stay here, who was going to make the bread? There were no survivors except him. He took the skeletons hand and he was helped up onto the saddle. He went to ask if they could get something but the skeleton handed him a small locket. Before he could say anything the horse galloped off, up towards the mountains and through the forest. Dew instinctively wrapped his arms around the skeleton to prevent himself from falling off. He watched as the flame wavered from the wind but it didn't go out. It was almost nightfall and it got darker and darker. The skeleton suddenly pulled up the reins and the horse halted and whinnied. It trotted to a small clearing and the skeleton set up camp. Dew sat on a nearby boulder as he tried to see the picture in the locket. A small flame floated over to him and he looked up to see the skeletons hand outstretched but continuing to set up the camp. A small smile came onto his face and he looked at the locket. A picture of a wolf and the skeleton was contained. He looked up again to see the skeleton removing its skull and placing in the middle of the small campfire. The twigs and leaves soon lit and the skeletons body reached into the fire to get back its head. It clicked back into place and the flame wavered a bit. The skeleton looked at him and then looked at the moon. It walked over to him and held out a hand. Dew gave the small locket to it and it went around to his back. He gasped as it put the locket around his neck. He screwed his eyes shut, expecting to be strangled but the skeleton didn't strangle him. He watched as it held out half a loaf of bread to him. He took it and ate it, watching as the skeleton sat facing into the forest on the opposite side of the campfire. He suddenly felt guilty that this Death spirit expected something of him. He felt a sudden shiver go up his spine and he shivered. The hair on the back of his neck stood up as he suddenly grew cold. The skeleton had turned its skull to him and was slowly reaching for its scythe. Dew fell onto the ground and was on his knees. He groaned as he wrapped his arms around himself. He screamed as thick brown fur pushed through and his shirt ripped. He tore the shirt off and his scream soon turned into a howl of pain and agony. His face stretched to a muzzle and his eyes remained a dark green and a long fuzzy tail grew. His wolf ears were flattened against his skull and he growled. He looked up at the skeleton who had the scythe in hand and his pants ripped, as he still grew. He was soon the height of a full grown man and he stood on his hind legs and howled at the moon. He trained his eyes on the skeleton and charged at it. It flicked its wrist and it flew back into a tree. He shook his head and tried to clear his head as fog took up the space. He saw the skeleton walk quickly up to him and he reached out a large paw which was easily dodged. He gasped in pain as he was rolled onto his side. The fog was soon gone and he saw the skeleton kneeling at his side. It had its right hand on his chest and he was struggling to breathe. He whined and it put a hand on his ribs. It chanted and soon the pain was gone. He breathed in lungfuls of air and the skeleton came into view. It lifted him up with ease and rested him on a blanket. He went to move off the blanket but the skeleton pushed him back down. Dew growled at it and heard the skeleton mutter. He felt something around his neck and he suddenly remembered the skeleton giving it to him. He suddenly remembered turning into a wolf. He suddenly realised what had happened. He looked up at the moon and saw it was full. He whined and the skeleton looked at him.
 "Hm? Oh. If you can understand me, you are correct. You're a werewolf and that picture in the locket is indeed you. But don't worry. I've been assigned to be your friend in both forms. But, thats going to be a problem. You...... Can't change back into your human form until you find a mate. And since there are no female wolves in this part of the forest, that's not going to happen for a while. But I'll tell you what, Dew. I'm going to help with that. You cannot die by hunters or anyone else but it comes with a price. The longer you stay a werewolf, the less percentage there is to you being able to become human again. But no matter what happens, I'll be there for you, Dew. I promised your mother and father I would look after you." she explained, stroking his head.
He felt a pang of sadness and realized he had his first friend. That made him happy and he did a wolf smile. He asked her something in his head and she tilted her head.
 "You want me to...? No I couldn't. But-. If you insist, Dew." she sighed.
Dew rested his head in her lap and she stroked his head, making him drift off. He soon fell asleep and dreamed of chasing sheep.


To this day, Dew has control over his 'illness' and loves his Mistress. The skeleton with the flaming skull has collected more friends along the way and is always on the lookout for more recruits. She's always seen with chains around her wrists, forearms and leg, leather pants a scorched brown shirt and that torn black jacket. But that trademark scythe is always at her side and she now has a small knife holstered in her belt. A dagger with a jeweled hilt is the weapon no-one knows she has. She has earned many names but she has already chosen her name. When it's in the air or on the ground, in places that seem like Hell or meadows with bunnies and dragonflies. She will always be known as the flaming skull skeleton with a scythe and heart of gold. Mistress Dagger Bones will be there for her friends and family and is always looking for new people to help and befriend. But people will always fear her appearance and sometimes her alone. She often kills those who see her as a Death Spirit and bring forth one that the mortals see that should be punished. She can see magic and has the ability to talk telepathically.