Midian is Where the Monsters Live

“My mother’s from France, but she had to leave a long time ago. She says she likes it here better, but...” She lifts her shoulders in a shrug. It’s not like going back to visit was ever an option. “When were you there last? What’s it like? Did they take down the tower yet? Mama said it was an eyesore.”

Briefly, her eyes flick over her shoulder, towards the back of the tomb.

At the sight of his teeth-- all of them-- Babette lights up, her own smile widening. There’s a sense of satisfaction in her expression, a sort of I knew it.

But then again, scrawny and dirty as she is, she’s not starving. And then there’s the promise that she has money to pay for candy in the first place.

“Hey, maybe I was murdered by skittles or something.” She chirps. “Maybe eating them is the only way I can find closure and move on to the next world. You don’t know how ghosts work.” She pauses, dark eyes going wide. “-- Do you?”

“Hey, mister--”

What’s a teenaged girl doing hanging out in a cemetery? Let alone in the cool shade of a tomb? An excellent question!

Perfectly Normal Teenager, Why Do You Ask

Coulda fooled me.

His words get a big smile from her, showing little white baby-teeth, yet to fall out.

She never learned.

Babette’s mother told her, again and again and again, that she shouldn’t play in the sun. She always thought she could find a way around it-- oversized hoods and sunglasses and large hats, and the discomfort wasn’t immediate anyways, she could manage the sunlight for an hour, on a good day. Sometimes more, if it was cloudy! But there was always a point when she couldn’t take it anymore, and Babette was never much good at knowing when that point began.

Her hair had gone thin by the time she pried off the rotting plywood from the side of the old, run-down apartment building, and the smoke was rolling off her skin. The smell of Babette’s own cooking flesh filled her nose. Her eyes were big and bugging, her skin slick with sweat and slime, soaking into her dress and ratty sweatshirt.

But the board came loose, at last. At least she had the strength to get herself to safety, today. When she was little, Babette wouldn’t even have that. So. panting and whining, the girl crawled into the soothing dark of the abandoned building, curled up in the shadows, and waiting for the pain to stop. She could change back to a less conspicuous shape then, and walk back home after nightfall. She’d get an earful from her mother, and she’d deserve it, but--

Sound. There was sound. With a shudder, the strange creature lifted its head, peering into the darkness.

“How come you smell like food?”

She’s younger than him by a few years, red curls frizzing about her head like a halo. She’s hunkered down in the shadows, lacy dress stained by mud and grass, feet bare and knees skinned.

“When will he come?”

“On the next wind. If not tonight, then tomorrow.”

independant roleplay blog for Babette, of Clive Barker’s Nightbreed

Movie and comic based

Multiverse and crossover friendly