Fifthwind by Ken Kiser

best to sound sincere. Even though he thought Vincent was crazy,
he decided he would humor the man -if
only for Kyla's sake.
    Vincent
walked to the other side of Ben and joined him against the handrail
which he gripped tightly and then looked out toward the North Torn.
"When you were a child, what stories frightened you the most?"
    Ben
considered the question carefully before answering. The telling of
stories was an important part of Kreggorian culture. As a child, he
had heard stories from the master story weavers of the famed
traveling Wordsmiths. Many great memories sprang to mind.
    "The
Ghost of Edgehill Manor," he finally said, remembering how that
story had kept him up at night. As a child, he had been terrified of
the dark and fearfully believed in ghosts.
    "Anything
else?"
    "There
was a story about an evil sorcerer who wanted to take over the world.
I don't remember what the story was called but it was pretty scary I
guess."
    Vincent
raised an eyebrow and glanced toward Kyla pleadingly, but she seemed
miles away, occupied with tracing patterns in the dust on the top of
a nearby table. She didn't seem interested in the exchange going on
between the two men. Vincent was getting impatient and was starting
to wring the railing with white knuckles. "Any others? Think
harder. How about a story with terrifying creatures?"
    "Terrifying
creatures?" Ben stroked his chin thoughtfully. He could tell
Vincent was baiting him, so he decided to have some fun with the old
kook.
    "Clowns,"
Ben said. "I was always afraid of stories with clowns..."
    Vincent
let out a sigh of resignation and gazed out toward the distant
forest, his voice softened in his surrender. "Clowns..." he said.
"I've always hated them too... dreadful things... and quite scary."
    Kyla
moved to Ben's side and elbowed him harshly, "But you can hardly
call them terrible creatures."
    Ben
strained to keep a straight face, but he was growing weary of playing
'Guess the Monster'. He knew that Vincent had a specific story in
mind and this was going to go on all day if he didn't find the answer
soon.
    He
became aware of a lilting voice humming a hopeful tune, and he looked
up at Kyla who pointed innocently with her eyes to the pattern she
had traced on the tabletop. He casually leaned to the side and peered
down. There, embedded in the artwork that adorned her dusty canvas,
were the letters M-U-R-G. Ben instantly recognized the letters for
what they were.
    Vincent
was getting more agitated by the moment, staring off into the
distance and mumbling something about clowns under his breath while
he drummed his fingers against the railing of the veranda. Kyla
caught Ben's eyes again with a pleading look that seemed to say 'Help
him'. Ben knew that he was not the first to mock her father, but he
was now regretting the way he had treated him.
    He
snapped his fingers and exclaimed, "The Murg! The creatures who
steal children in the night. Those were some of the scariest stories
of all!"
    The
pot that was Vincent had been removed from the fire and the steam of
his angst finally cooled. The drumming of fingers and the mumbling
ceased in unison as satisfaction settled over his face. The answer he
had so desperately sought had been given, and he turned to Ben with a
smile.
    As
if he had been waiting for this moment for a lifetime, he lowered his
voice to a harsh whisper and said, "It's more than just a story. A
doorway has been opened, and the foul ones have come through...The
Murg are in our midst!"
    "The
Murg?" Ben rolled his eyes, regretting now that he had offered the
answer. "Those are just stories, created by parents to make
children behave. 'Do as your father tells you, or the Murg will take
you away'. You can't possibly think they're real."
    Vincent
waved away the comment as insignificant. "I know what you think. At
first, I didn't want to believe it myself... until I saw them." He
raised a finger to emphasize his point. "Make no mistake about it
Ben. The Murg are