Inside the cozy cottage that had many men standing outside on guard waiting to attack, there were three rambunctious boys wrestling and one wild girl that never knew how to keep her hair looking polished that ranged in age from 7 to 17. All the children were on the living room floor while their father overlooked them whittling some wood. Their mother was in the kitchen. The youngest of the children goes by the name of Bardolf. His parents noticed that when he was born, he seemed so weak and timid that they hoped his name would give him power. Nadia and Franklin decided to name their boy after an ax. They were so proud that their once nervous baby had turned into a handsome young man. He had learned how to stand on his own two feet, especially when it came to his brother’s. Bardolf was extremely rough when it came to playing with them. There were many days that the boys would spend all day outside rolling around in the leaves or playing hide and seek in the ditches that they would come home filthy. Bardolf’s sister never partook in these festivities but came back looking the same as the boys just like she had. Today was no exception. Bardolf’s tweed shirt and linen shorts were dirty from him rolling around outside with his brother‘s all day. His beautiful chestnut hair that is kept short looked like a rat‘s nest from the roughhousing.

On this particular evening, Bardolf’s hazel eyes were watching his mother. He noticed his mother had an uneasiness about her. His mother was pacing the kitchen and living room. He saw her picking at the edges of her thumbnails that were always perfectly manicured, then followed by her wringing the corner of the blue apron. She then would repeat this act over and over. Bardolf did not like seeing his mother like this. Nadia was usually a very well tempered woman. Her dresses were always neatly pressed, and her stockings never had a run in them. She wasn’t upset like when he and his brothers were not listening but seemed to be more nervous than anything else.

"Franklin? There is a wildness in the air tonight. Can you feel it?" Nadia, Bardolf’s mother, asked with a little fright in her voice.

" Nadia, everything is fine. It has been a good day. Look. For the first time in a long time, all of the kids are having fun and getting along. Hun, you are just crazy. Maybe it’s the half-lunar cycle making you off balance. Everything is fine." Franklin, Bardolf’s father, chuckled to himself. Franklin, for the most part, was a jovial guy. Not much got him down. He always kept the family’s spirit high. Franklin was a tall, lean man that was a little hunched over. He would joke with the kids telling them that they made his back crooked from always leaning down to kiss them. He would say that what he receives from the children is a fractured love. He had a smile that went from ear to ear. Even when Franklin was mad at the kids for not doing something, his face never changed disposition. It was his best feature. All the kids wished to be just like his father; Franklin was so charismatic.

As the kids lay on the floor playing, Bardolf started to hand one of his brothers a marble when there was a knock on the door. Before anyone could think to answer, many men came rushing in. Bardolf heard an amplified crunch like when he and his siblings played in the freshly fallen leaves that were crisp not yet soggy from the dew. From this point on everything moved in slow motion. They had weapons of all sorts. Knives, axes, pitchforks, guns, clubs with razor blades stuck to them. The men were shouting, “We are going to end this terror.”, “Get them.”, “For the child.” These strange men sounded valiant.

Bardolf ran to the corner of the room. There he watched in horror as his family transformed. Father was the first to transform. He hunched over his back more than it already was, clenched his fist, shut his eyes, screamed as his feet became larger as well as his hands. His ears came up to a point. His nails grew longer as well as his teeth. His beard grew thicker and got matching sideburns that were dull and scruffy. Hair grew all over his body. When his eyes opened, they were glowing with rage. His brother’s and sister followed suit in their transformation as well as his mother. Bardolf did not change. He did not know what was happening. He felt so disconnected from his family. Completely in shock and so scared.

The men made the first lunge towards the family. One of the men opened fire. Bardolf closed his eyes. He heard the booming from the gun. He started to cry. He heard something leaking like maple syrup being poured onto pancakes and felt the warm liquid around his feet. He refused to open his eyes.

As Bardolf sat on the floor in the corner of the room, he could not shut the sounds out. He knew horrible acts were being committed around him, but he refused to look. He heard his sister make a howling scream followed by a quiet thud that sounded like a fruit being chopped open. He heard the tear of the fabric. Bardolf listened to a sound similar to that when his mom tenderized meat. Bardolf heard a man scream uncontrollably as Bardolf heard what seemed to be thick sticks breaking. He listened to a growl that brought a chill to his spine. He heard someone gets slammed against the bookshelf followed by heavy gasps. He heard the clinking of chimes and felt the cold fresh air against his arms and legs. He heard furniture getting knocked around. Bardolf heard the scraping of chairs. They were like nails on a chalkboard. He heard men groaning in the struggle. He listened to a sound he could not identify. It was a quiet muffled tearing sound was that not of clothing but something else. He had a thought for a split second, could that be flesh? He erased that thought as quickly as it came into his head. He heard a loud whack that cracked like a ball being hit with a stick followed by a whimper.

Bardolf tried to tune his surroundings out. As he sat in the corner, he was focusing on his shaking. His little back shivered forcing his arms to gyrate. His upper arms were becoming sore from holding his legs so tight against his body. Bardolf’s chest was tight, and he felt like he could not breathe. His legs were like stone, but he knew that if he attempted to stand up his legs would become like jelly. Now, the only sound he was focusing on was the ringing in his ears. He felt like he had been sitting on the floor forever. In that corner that he has become to know oh so well. The corner that mother sent him to when Bardolf wasn’t listening when he and his brothers were ruff housing to loud or too long. The corner he was sent to when he refused to eat his dinner or brush his teeth before bed. The hated corner has become the saving corner. How Bardolf hated this corner more than ever now.

Bardolf felt a hand on his shoulder. It was a voice that he did not recognize saying, “You are alright now. “ The voice was quiet and soothing. He talked slowly. “We have saved you from the monsters. There is nothing to fear now. We are going to take you to a place that is safe. We don’t know who your family is, but we will try our hardest to get you back with them. In the meantime, you will be placed in the care of a government-run and funded orphanage.” The voice was gentle and calm. This stranger picked Bardolf up the way his dad did when he was a toddler. This stranger carried him away.

As they walked through the threshold of the door, Bardolf looked at the living room for a split second and saw the family that he loved slain. For the first time throughout this ordeal, he cried. He cried to the carriage. He cried during the ride to the orphanage. He cried as he was walked up the steps of the building. Whenever anyone asked him his name, he would cry. His name is all he had left from his once loving family and he didn’t want that stolen from him as the love of his family was stolen from him.

Next Chapter: The Aloneness