Work Text:
Statement of Michael Shelly, regarding his missing childhood friend. Audio recording by Gertrude Robinson, Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute of London. Statement begins.
I'm not originally from Britain. I'm actually Welsh. I grew up in Llansannan, it's a small town in North Wales, surrounded on all sides by hills and farmland. I actually loved it there, my parents did too, I… I think they resented me for making us leave. There weren't many child psychologists in the area, and none that spoke Welsh… so we had to move.
Because of the town's size, I was very limited in picking friends growing up. Ryan was the son of my dad's best friend, so it was expected of us to become friends as well. I didn't really like hanging out with him, he was four years older than me and liked to bully me into doing things, but in retrospect I'm sure it's because he didn't like spending time with me either. Things started getting better between us when I was twelve. Ryan said he hated Llansannan, and that he'd get us both out. He knew how to drive after all, and the old man who lived on top of the hill - myself and the other kids called him the anghenfil y bryn - had taught him how to hotwire a car.
When I was fourteen he woke me up one night by throwing rocks at my window and said we were leaving; he'd stolen our school teacher's car. I… I didn't want to go, but part of me was still a bit scared of him from our childhood, so I scraped together some things I wanted to keep into my bookbag, and left with him. We drove for what felt like hours before coming across a forest, even though the town was still visible from where we were. Llansannan doesn't have forests, the closest one is miles away, but one just… sprouted. In the middle of the road. The trees were too dense to drive through, so we had to abandon the car and walk. Neither of us thought to bring flashlights, so we walked in complete darkness since the trees blocked out the moon. Ryan said he knew the way through, and he sounded so sure of himself that I just followed him.
That forest… I remember thinking they were melltigedig. Cursed. Ryan said he could hear voices telling him where to go, and though I didn't believe him, I just followed. What else was I supposed to do? We'd been walking for so long that my feet hurt; I wouldn't be able to find my way back out. Eventually we reached the center, a wide open plain that was surrounded by those dense trees. It felt like the moon was sitting directly above the clearing, and… in the very center was the old man. The anghenfil. He was smiling, but he had too many teeth; some fell onto the ground when he spoke, and sprouted into twisted, spiraling trees.
"ꅏꃅꍏ꓄ ꀤꌗ ꓄ꃅꀤꌗ ꂦꈤꍟ'ꌗ ꈤꍏᛗꍟ?" He asked in Welsh, staring at me and me alone. It was like Ryan didn't even exist. My head felt like needles when he spoke, he– there were colors that never existed in my mind. At that moment, I thought I was face to face with the Devil himself. Ryan saved me. He stepped in front of me and broke the thing's line of sight, then told it his name.
"ꋪꌩꍏꈤ?" It was like the thing was giving him a chance to change his mind. He didn't.
"Yes. My name is Ryan."
"ꋪꌩꍏꈤ. ꅏꃅꍏ꓄ ꍏ ꅏꂦꈤꀸꍟꋪꀸꀎ꒒꒒ ꈤꍏᛗꍟ ꓄ꂦ ꃅꍏᐯꍟ."
It got taller and taller until it towered above the trees and blotted out the moon, and while all was black I realized I couldn't feel anyone in front of me anymore.
When the moon returned I was alone, both the old man and Ryan having vanished. I called out for my friend, and what answered… it wasn't Ryan. It was wrong. Everything about it was too long, crooked and twisting constantly.
"ᓮ'ᙢ ᖇᓮ𐌾ᖺt ᖺᙓᖇᙓ, ᙢᓮᙅᖺᗩᙓᒪ."
Even the voice was wrong, even though it came out of a face that was undeniably my friend's. His neck… twisted. It stretched like gum and kept getting longer and longer, corkscrewing on an invisible axis. I know he… it… was still talking to me, but I don't know what it said, all I remember is the stabbing pain it brought into my head whenever it spoke, the unreality made my eyes shatter like glass.
I threw up my dinner from that night. And I ran. I don't know how I got out but I did, clothes ruined, covered in scratches, and missing my bookbag, but alive. The forest let me out a few dozen meters from the outskirts of Llansannan at daybreak, and I ran the rest of the way to my house. I was screaming and banging on the door so loudly that I woke up the entire neighborhood, and when asked what happened, I couldn't muster any words beyond cymerodd yr anghenfil Ryan: 'the monster took Ryan'. Over and over again. The adults went to search for Ryan, and they didn't find anything. They didn't even find our teacher's car. What they did find though was the old man's corpse, rotting in Ryan's bed as if he'd died there weeks ago. I didn't speak at all for two weeks. Once I opened my mouth again, it was like I'd completely forgotten how to speak English. All that came out was Welsh.
I don't give strangers my name anymore. The anghenfil took Ryan's, and I could never tell when he'd be back to take mine. I know it'll happen someday, though. Faeries and monsters rarely let someone go for very long.
Statement ends. Michael left this statement in my office yesterday. He refused to speak about it any further when I questioned him. Quite frankly it's given me a better understanding of him as a person, and insight into some of his... oddities. This sounds like the work of the Distortion, due to his descriptions - or lack thereof. However I've never heard of an entity taking a person's name... is it possible that Michael witnessed this boy "Ryan" becoming an avatar? Regardless, this means that Michael has been marked by the spiral, and could be useful in stopping the ritual I've heard whispers about. I'll be sure to bring him along.