Ellen Datlow - The Beastly Bride

I’m going to find my people if it takes falling off a cliff and lying there with a broken leg.

But what if I don’t belong with them either? What if I don’t belong anywhere?

I follow the signs I left for Mother so she could follow me. I find my way back to our cabin, no problem. There’s quite a bit of snow. It’s getting too cold for most of the regular people to be in the mountains. I only have to avoid a few.

I get excited when I get close. Maybe Mother is waiting for me.

The cabin door is open. She must be there.

But then I get worried. Maybe somebody broke in. Maybe somebody like Buck, not like Hi.

I back away and hide.

And then a beautiful creature comes out, looks up and sniffs. He probably can smell even better than I can. I’ll bet he knows I’m hiding here.

He’s a tawny golden color — all over. He has a wide forehead, a lionlike look. No wonder Mother fell in love. His face is bare, like mine. I can’t believe how beautiful he is, and I’m pretty much just exactly like him.

He’s wearing a fisherman’s vest with all the pockets bulging. And he has a belt with all sorts of things hanging from it.

“Sabine? Binny?”

He knows me. Do I dare show myself?

His voice is deep and kind of whispery — breathy.

“I’m your uncle, Greener. Come on out.”

I don’t.

“Your mother. I’m sorry. She. We found her not far from Rock Creek. Come on out. Let me tell you face-to-face.”

So it’s true. What I suspected. But I can’t come out.

He sits down and turns away so his back is toward my hiding place. A broad, strong, golden back.

“I’ve come to take you home. You’ll like it. Your Aunt Sabby is there. You’re named for her, you know.”

I can’t come out.

“We have a pet fox. We’ve got jays that eat out of your hand.”

I can’t.

“I’m sorry I didn’t get here soon enough — before you went down. I hope you didn’t have a bad time there.”

I don’t come.

“Come on out. I’ll teach you how to hide. I’ll teach you how to sneak away without making a sound. I’ll teach you our whistle language. Come on. I’ll take you home.”

I’m glad I have Hi’s big black hat. I pull it low over my eyes and I come.

CAROL EMSHWILLER grew up in Michigan and in France and currently divides her time between New York and California. She is the winner of two Nebula Awards, for her stories “Creature” and “I Live with You.” She has also won the Lifetime Achievement award from the World Fantasy Convention.

She’s been the recipient of a National Endowment for the Arts grant and two New York State grants. Her short fiction has been published in many literary and science fiction magazines. Her most recent books are the novels Mr. Boots and The Secret City and the collection I Live with You . Her Web site is www.sfwa.org/members/emshwiller

I’ve always liked the idea of a child growing up in the forest. half-wild or all-wild. I had the first few paragraphs of this story written before Ellen asked me if I’d write something for The Beastly Bride . Usually I can’t write “on demand,” but this was already started, and I thought it might fit.

I didn’t know then that my girl would be fuzzy and have a Sasquatch/Bigfoot father. Those elements entered the story because Ellen and Terri’s description of their anthology seemed to ask for them. I had thought of a wild child, but one just like us. It was because of Ellen that Sabine turned out as she did, and I’m so glad that happened! I love my beautiful fuzzy people. I think the story is much more interesting than it would have been if Ellen hadn’t asked for “Beastly.”

“ Masako-chan.” Her mother’s slightly muffled voice was inflected with a smile. “A young lady from Community Health is here to see you.”

Despite the wall and closed door, her mother’s voice nonetheless quavered with layers of feelings. Masako could identify each of them with a coroner’s disengagement: guilt, shame, pride, resentment, a clasping love, pity, self-pity. Hate.

Masako did not respond.

“Please,” her mother begged, her voice beginning to rise.

“She’s here to help you. To help us! I can’t bear it anymore! Just open the door!” She was beginning to shatter. The sharp edges in her voice. Masako imagined shards of glass inside her throat. Rising up to fill her mouth.

Go away! I can’t go back! They hate me. I can’t bear it. They hurt me. They’ll see me. I can’t bear their eyes. They whisper. Don’t find me. You’re not coming in! There’s something wrong with me. There’s something wrong with me. Leave me. Alone.

“Masako-san!”

The voice, crisp, clear, unfamiliar, cut through Masako’s darting, sweaty fears.

“My name is Moriya. I am your liaison from the Community Health Center, Family and Youth Department. I will be arriving every morning at nine A.M. to visit you, Monday through Saturday. You will grow accustomed to me over time. And you will open your door. You will be able to join society once more. You are not alone.”

Masako stared at the blue screen of her laptop. Who was this stranger? Who did she think she was? To think that she, a stranger, could march into their house and tell her what would happen. With her life. As if she knew her already.

Would she force the door? Would she? Break into her sanctuary?

“I look forward to meeting you.” The woman’s voice rang clearly. “I’ll be here tomorrow,” she promised.

Voices murmured in the hallway. Masako could almost feel her mother bowing her gratitude to the stranger. Appalling. The voices receded with the creaks of the wooden staircase as they descended to the first floor.

She could hear the front door open, then close. The Moriya woman had left their home and entered daylight.

Masako knew if she stepped out into sunlight, now, it would eat her up. She only made rare forays outside in the stillest part of darkness. When distant sirens wailed the tragedies of others. When her shame-filled parents were folded into exhausted sleep. When night people were in the middle of their shifts and day people lay unconscious to the life of shadow. Then people like her crawled out of their sanctuaries. If only for a brief moment of starlight. To breathe moonlight and drink in the sweet night air.

Masako shuddered with longing and fear. It was growing more and more difficult to leave her room. And now, this Moriya creature here to harass and torment her during the days. It was unbearable.

If only she could leave. Cast everything from her, like an exoskeleton, and emerge new and naked into a new life. She would do it gladly.

But fifteen-year-old girls trapped in a Chiba suburb did not do such things, especially someone like her.

Outcast from school, fat in a land of skinny, and named after the Imperial Prince’s neurotic bride, Masako was trapped in this hell until she died.