It’s not that the mythical creatures hid themselves from normal folk. It’s not that they had powerful magical spells that disguised them to be ordinary looking. It’s not that they just were normal looking. They didn’t have to do anything. The people of New York just didn’t care enough to notice anything. When seeing a Banshee, they just thought of it as someone very ugly or of a Merrow a very beautiful one. A Leprechaun was just a person with dwarfism. Will-o’-the-wisps were just optical illusions caused by the reflecting sun on all the glass of the skyscrapers. Even if a person sees them as what they truly are, it is disregarded as a mental handicap or stupor. Even so, the creatures didn’t mingle too much with ordinary people as they thought of them self-centered, smelly and ignorant. The only real exception were the Brownies. The kind-hearted individuals they are, they were the ones who repaired shoes, washed the dishes in restaurants, played bellboys in hotels and did all the other chores they used to do in the home country. Granted, they liked the farm work more, but they had to adapt in order to survive in a world where they no longer belonged.
“Did you hear?” said a Hob, “Baba Yaga and Chernobog have moved in together. They’ve been tearing the whole place up.”
“Damned Polish immigrants.” answered a Leprechaun next to the Hobgoblin. He took out a handkerchief and sneezed in it. “I swear to you, they’ll get us all exposed to even the most ignorant of The Bronx.”
“At least she doesn’t have that house on legs anymore. Couldn’t get it past the border, I believe, something to do with quarantine rules, it being alive and all.”
The Leprechaun sneezed again. “Whatever, I don’t like ’em. We got here and suddenly everybody else wants to come too. I’m glad Cú Chulainn was around long enough to make sure this place didn’t get flooded with Wyverns and those blasted Dullahan. A bloke running around with his head in his arms is definitely going to get noticed. And they’re bigger troublemakers than even Hobgoblins. No offense intended.”
“None taken. My cousins are mischievous, I will never deny. But I don’t know, who are we to judge what’s to be allowed and not.”
“We don’t. That’s why we let Cú Chulainn do it.” The Leprechaun said in between sneezes. “He was what we needed. But it seems this world is fucked up enough to have even the mightiest heroes of old stabbed to death in a back alley like he was just an ordinary hobo.”
“A damn shame indeed.”
“Unheard of even. The Morrigan herself was upset by it, from what I heard. Figure that out, the goddess of war and fate taken aback by a death.” The Leprechaun sneezed again. “I heard she’s somewhere a bit more pleasant now. The Gaza, I think.”
“You’ve been sneezing a lot, are you ok?”
“A Leprechaun with allergies, another thing that could only happen in the real world. I hate this wretched city. I should just move to Annwn itself.”
“Hey there, pretty lady. Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?” asked a Bugbear to one of the Merrow sitting a the bar. The Merrow didn’t respond and just sipped her drink some more.
“You know,” continued the Bugbear, “I’d fight a hundred rabid Leprechauns for you.”
This time, she answered. “I doubt you’d make it past two of them. I’ve heard rabies is a terrible way to go. So for your sake, and frankly mine as well, I’d hope the other 98 would tear you to shreds.”
She continued to sip her drink, undisturbed.
The Bugbear, undeterred, just winked and went on to find another target.
After a long night of rejections, the Bugbear returned to his apartment alone. He locked the door behind him and sat behind his computer. There was still the internet to keep him company after all. And all the things you could find on it. He went immediately to his usual map when he noticed something, a reflection on his monitor. Something was standing behind him.
“You know, if there is one thing Tetris has taught me,’ said one Changeling to another, “it’s that if you try to fit in, you’ll disappear.”
“Damn, man, that’s deep. Where did you get that from?”
“Reddit. There’s some good stuff on there, much better than my 4chan days.”
“Hey, did you hear? They found Hors dead in his office a few days ago.”
“What, really? What became of Hyu and Dai?”
“Nowhere to be found. Probably flew off. Only two wyverns left in the New World as far as I know. Hors must have been a pretty powerful man to convince Cú Chulainn he could keep them. What did his company produce anyway?”
“Cars or something. Named it after his pets as well. He just took over though, from some other Asian myths. Smooth talked, for sure.”
“You know what else I heard about it? His eyes were burned away. And written in this white sticky stuff across the wall, the words ‘In Lucy’s eyes’…”
“… There’s nothing but lies… I thought she wasn’t real.”
“I’m sure it’s just the real murderer making use of a stupid second rank legend. It makes no sense for it to be there.”
“It’s still scary though.”
“Probably exactly what the murderer wanted it to be.”
“Let’s hope it stays with that one murder though.”
“Ah, who knows? Life in this city is hard. Do you even wonder what would have happened if you got changed into some other, more successful family?”
“Not really. We’re young, we just need to figure our life out. You know, it’s like finding out the correct loose string in a tangled mess of rope. Sometimes, taking the wrong one, it will just tighten it more. At other times, it will just make it even more tangled. But sometimes, it can unravel the whole bloody mess.”
“Did you get that from reddit too?”
A Pooka was sitting on a bench in Central Park, watching passers-by passing by. He sat for hours and hours, just staring. When he finally got up, he walked towards a young girl that seemed to be lost.
“There, there, little girl. Don’t cry. I can take you wherever you want. Just jump on my back and I’ll get you there.” The girl, too distressed to have her wits about, agreed.
The next morning, part of Central Park was closed off for public. Rumors had it that a man was found, his eyes burnt out. The words ‘In Lucy’s eyes’ were spelled out in blood in the grass next to him.
When she was back on American soil, the Morrigan felt something odd, though ever since she got separated from her two sisters, she never fully trusted that feeling anymore. But fractured as she was, she still knew when copious blood had been spilled. She just wasn’t sure what the meaning behind it all was. But it wasn’t war. It felt more like… Vengeance.
“I miss the sea so much” said the Selkie to her husband.
“Of course you do, dear. It’s your true home. But you know better to swim in that pile of plastic and garbage these days.”
“I know. But just once, I wished I could turn into a seal again and swim around. Just for a day.”
“Maybe one day, my dear.”
“Want to see a movie? I always wanted to see The Secret of Roan Inish. See if it’s accurate.”
“Actually, I have to go back to the office. Lots of work that’s unfinished.”
The Selkie sighed. “Of course you do.”
The next morning, the husband and an unknown woman were found in bed. Both their eyes had been burnt out. The text ‘In Lucy’s eyes’ was spelled out in pieces of flesh in front of the bed.
The Morrigan’s feeling of dread had grown stronger over the days. Something was killing mythicals and she had no idea why. Her trade was war and death, but this was definitely different. She felt the same unease and discomfort she had felt the night Cú Chulainn was murdered. This was the oddest thing that ever happened to her. She couldn’t help but smile a little. She wanted to find whoever was responsible, she was too intrigued. Why didn’t the murderer target humans? The pattern she had figured out, the reasons behind the killings, but the sins were not exclusive to the legends. This whole city was filled with it. There had to be more to it.
“You know the world is fucked up when a person dragging a drowning person out of the water, is considered a hero.” said the Hob to the Leprechaun.
“But that’s commendable, no?”
“Certainly,” continued the Hob, “but why are you a hero for something you are kinda supposed to do? Why celebrate people who come up for women’s rights as heroes? They might wind up saying ‘good job for not stabbing that person there’ if they continue like this. When have good deeds become so rare, they have to give a medal to each and every person doing one. Why do people always point out the bad, and never the good, or sometimes even the other way around. Einstein married his cousin, and Hitler was a vegetarian. So what if he gassed a few million jews, right? Fuck’s sake.”
“You know, you have a point. I’m getting sick of the ordinary people’ squabbles about movies as well. ‘Oh, movies show guns, so they promote, even glorify violence’. It’s stupid. People are the problem, not the movies. If someone sees a person shooting another on screen and they think ‘hey, let me do that as well’, is the movie at fault? No. It’s that person’s mental health. It’s always the people themselves, regardless of movies, games or music.” The Leprechaun sniveled. “In the end? You gotta change the people, not the movies. If you think women are nothing but baby factories and boobs to look at because of a movie, you’re the one in the wrong in the first place, the movie only as a consequence. Change the real cause, the people, and the movies will follow. If they can’t sell gratuitous nudity anymore, they’ll stop doing it, they just cater to what the people want now. Humans are a violent race, driven by sex. The movies show it like a mirror, and I guess they don’t always like their reflection. I’m not sure if I like the strong backlashes either though, the ‘we shouldn’t offend anyone’ up to the smallest minority. They call it political correctness, while politicians are the pinnacle of petty squabbles.”
“I’ve never seen you go off on a rant like that, man.”
“I always get giddy when my sinuses are blocked like this.” The Leprechaun said in between sneezes. “But hey, I don’t think I sneezed once during that whole blowout.”
The Hob wasn’t paying much attention. He shook his head.
“It seems another one of those strange murders happened this night. Baba Yaga and Chernobog. Same thing, eyes burnt out, and ‘In Lucy’s eyes’ written down.”
“Whatever it’s writing in seems to change all the time, right? What was it now?”
“It didn’t say. I’m not sure if I want to know either.”
The Morrigan soon found out who she wanted to meet. Or what. There was something about this… thing. This… Lucy. When she spoke, it was like if two voices said the same thing at the same time. She seemed even less of this world than any of the other mysticals were. She had the appearance of a small child, her black hair floating in the air. Her eyes were completely black. The Morrigan spoke only briefly with Lucy. She asked pointed questions and soon her suspicions were confirmed. The Morrigan couldn’t help but admire this new legend a little bit, gruesome as it was. In Lucy’s eyes, there was nothing but lies? No. In those eyes, there was nothing but truth. Cold, harsh truth. The city had got to all of them, made them more human, corrupted them, in a way. Lucy was their mirror to gaze into, to see what they had become. Basic, shadows of their former selves, all their might and glory gone, replaced by the same desires as their human neighbours. And those who couldn’t bear the sight, burned from it. The Morrigan did not. After all, she kind of liked this world.
This blog was brought to you by: Cage the Elephant – Ain’t No Rest For the Wicked