Archive of Our Own

PROLOGUE

Out in the woods beyond a village, there was an old cottage where a wicked witch lived. It was said that she once stole a motherless little boy from his cradle, leaving his father in perpetual loneliness.  

On one morning six-and-ten years later, the watchkeepers found the witch lifeless and mutilated at the boundary between the village and the woods, where trimmed grass turned into moss and creeping plants. Her head and limbs had been ripped from her torso, her viscera had been clawed out of a gaping tear in her abdomen, and her face had been disfigured beyond recognition.  

Having seen this act of savagery, the village elder shouted loudly for all to hear, “The fable is true! The babe was fated to be a monster, and the witch took him to become his master. But look! The beast has turned against her! It has left her corpse here as a warning! It’s had a taste of blood and it wants more! We must appease it!” 

And so, it was decreed that every year, a female must be sacrificed to the monster. For it was a woman who had displeased the monster, the elder announced, and a woman must therefore venture into the woods to be treated as the monster pleased.  

A dozen full moons passed, and a lottery was held to select the chosen one. With trembling feet, she whose name was called departed the village, never to be seen again. The sun hung high when the woman vanished between the trees, but it was minutes prior to dawn when the wind carried her scream and, along with it, an inhuman roar. This would happen in the year after, and the year after, and the three years after, and the villagers would speculate among themselves about the kinds of torture that the monster would inflict on his victims before butchering them right before the break of day.  

In the seventh year, the villagers no longer whispered about the monster, as they were too busy prattling about the girl who volunteered to be the latest sacrifice. They all hid in the safety of their houses and peeped through their windows to watch the sway of the girl's coal-black pigtail braids and the bounce of her knapsack as she marched toward her death. When her petite figure was engulfed within the depths of the woods, the villagers shook their heads in disbelief and bid farewell to the foolish girl. 

“So long, Wednesday Addams!” 

I: THE VAIN COCKROACH

Night had fallen by the time Wednesday stumbled upon the witch’s cottage. No larger than two hundred square feet in size, the entire structure could easily fit in her family’s manor in the village; the two-story-high round tower at the rear part wasn’t even as tall as the turrets on her house.  

Wednesday lifted her chin and examined the tower. Attached to the back of the main building, it looked unnatural; added like an afterthought. As if it was built rashly to keep something imprisoned within.  

Sturdy though it was, the stone façade couldn’t keep the smell of warm food from reaching Wednesday's nostrils. In the end, it was the rumbling of her stomach that drove her to enter the cottage. 

The inside was every bit a fairy tale cliché. In the middle of the left wall was a single bed. Its low headboard was positioned against the wall, and its foot was directed toward the other side of the room, where an old wooden table and a similarly rickety bench stood in front of a lit fireplace. There, Wednesday found the source of the inviting aroma that she detected earlier. A pot of boiling soup was hanging over the fire, and Wednesday’s mouth watered when her gaze fell upon it. Noticing a bowl and utensils on the wooden table, she quickly helped herself to the meat and vegetable soup before taking her seat on the bench to gobble down her dinner.  

Wednesday surveyed the rest of the interior as she chewed. Cupboards stacked with empty potion bottles were crammed into every corner, except for one on the far right, which was occupied by a rusty cauldron and a rocking chair. Her eyes traveled to the surrounding area, and only then she spotted a closed door camouflaged in the back wall. Wednesday was certain that the door led to the tower that was inhibited by the monster.  

She swallowed.  

Her hunger had temporarily distracted her from the monster. She peered into her empty bowl and pondered. So, the monster didn’t torture the women; in fact, it tried to fatten them up by serving them their final meals on Earth. And if her plan should go awry, that soup, too, would be her last one. 

But she wouldn’t be Wednesday Addams if she didn’t come thoroughly prepared. 

True enough, the door in the back wall creaked open a few hours later, and a creature slipped out of the crack. Despite the flickering light of the dying embers in the fireplace, Wednesday could clearly identify the creature as an adult man, and not the terrifying monster in the rumors that the villagers spread. The elder did say he was a human boy when he was taken by the witch. Perhaps he could transform into a monster on a whim, Wednesday thought.  

It— He moved stealthily toward the center of the room and stopped in front of the bed, on which Wednesday was sitting with her legs crossed. It was too dim, and Wednesday couldn’t make out his features, but she could still see him cocking his head to the side as he regarded her. 

“Curious,” he noted. “The others would start weeping the moment they laid their eyes on me.” He seemed to have espied Wednesday’s leather knapsack on the mattress, and continued, “The others didn’t bring their personal belongings either.” 

At this point, her pupils had adjusted to the dark, and Wednesday realized that the man was nude. 

“Well,” Wednesday replied, willing herself to focus on his shadow-framed eyes. “The others came here to die.” 

“And you didn’t?” 

“I came here to flee,” she explained, “with your help.” 

His cackle reverberated around the small room. “Why— Why would—” Between his fits of laughter, he struggled to get his words out. “Why would I do that?” 

“Because you never wanted a sacrifice in the first place.” That silenced him immediately, and Wednesday resumed, “I may not know you, but I know what an idiot the village elder is. You discarded the witch’s body at the boundary because you wanted to be left on your own, not because you demanded a sacrifice. What I don’t understand is, why do you play along?”  

He responded nothing to that and spun on his heel. Wednesday huffed, thinking that she had offended him and caused him to retreat to his tower without quenching her curiosity. But when he reached the back door, he walked past it and went toward the rocking chair on the corner instead. Then, he sauntered toward where he previously stood, dragging the chair behind him. 

“This may take a while,” he said, as he sat opposite her. “You were right. I never asked for a sacrifice whatsoever. I knew nothing of your elder’s ridiculous claims until the first woman revealed everything to me.” 

“Then you killed her, anyway. And the ones after her.” 

“What was I supposed to do? Not kill them?” He folded his arms in front of his chest, and went on, “If I had let them live, they would have gone to the village and told everyone that I wasn’t dangerous. Then, your people would have barged in here and tried to become my new master.” He leaned forward and lowered his voice to a sinister whisper. “And that’s why, I will have to kill you too.” 

“You won’t. You can’t.” 

The others had spoken the same, he thought. You won’t. You can’t. By them, those words had been uttered like a prayer. But from this new woman’s lips, they were delivered like the gospel. 

So, he told her, “Of course, I can.” 

“No, you can’t,” she countered. “Because I can’t be killed.” 

He snorted loudly. “Everyone can be killed.” 

“I’m not everyone,” she declared. “If you think I’m lying, I will relate to you a story that will make you believe me.” 

He remained motionless for some time, and Wednesday waited for a response with bated breath. She hated not being able to study his expression, for she had no way of telling his intention. Did he want to comply, or did he wish to pounce on her like the beast that he was? It seemed to take forever, but he finally reclined against the chair, making it rock back and forth in the meanwhile. She could discern a hint of amusement in his tone when he prompted, “Go on.” 

Straightening her shoulders, she cleared her throat and began, "This story is called The Vain Cockroach, 

“Once upon a time, there was a little she-cockroach that lived in a small town. One day, while she was digging a hole in the ground, she found a round object. ‘What could this be?’ asked she. After wiping the dirt off the surface, she discovered that the object was a coin. ‘With this coin, I will buy myself a nice green bow!’ said she. And bought it, she did. That afternoon, she sat on her balcony, wearing the green bow around her head.” 

The man cut in, “I think I’ve heard of this one before.” 

“I can assure you,” Wednesday exclaimed, “you have not.” 

“And what if I have?” 

“If you listen until the very end and you’re still convinced that you have heard it before, I will give you permission to eat me.” 

With that, he let her carry on with her tale. “Now where was I? 

“The she-cockroach sat on her balcony, wearing the green bow around her head. At that moment, a rat with his shiny hair and prominent ears passed by, and when he saw how beautiful the she-cockroach looked, he approached the balcony. ‘Little cockroach, how pretty you are,’ said he, ’will you marry me?’ She asked him, ‘What will you do at night?’ The rat answered, ‘I will squeak like this!’ And squeak, he did. The she-cockroach yelped, ‘Oh, no! I will get frightened! Leave me be!’ Rejected, the rat scurried away, 

“At that moment, an orange tabby with his striking stripes passed by, and when he saw how beautiful the she-cockroach looked, he approached the balcony. ‘Little cockroach, how pretty you are,’ said he, ’will you marry me?’ She asked him, ‘What will you do at night?’ The tabby answered, ‘I will roar like this!’ And roar, he did. The she-cockroach swooned, ‘Oh, yes! I will marry you,’ 

“And so, the she-cockroach was wed to the orange tabby. On their nuptial night, he brought her to his home, where he roared for her. But alas! It wasn’t the only thing he did! The tabby also leaped forward and ate the vain she-cockroach." 

The man interrupted Wednesday with a snicker. “This has been very interesting, but I told you, I have heard it before.” He inquired, then, “Can I eat you now?” 

“I’m not done yet,” she insisted. “The orange tabby might have eaten the she-cockroach, but that didn’t mean she perished. She was a cockroach, after all. When the tabby least expected it, the cockroach crawled along his intestines, tickling him from the inside. He couldn’t sleep, he couldn’t eat; he could only scratch his stomach. Until one day, he couldn’t take it anymore, and he cut his own body open to let the cockroach out. He bled to his death, and the she-cockroach was freed. The end.” 

The rocking chair wobbled slightly when the man shook with laughter. The sound was, to Wednesday’s pleasant surprise, filled with mirth rather than malice. “I must confess, you were right. I never heard that one before. But I still haven’t had a clue why you would tell me that story.” 

“Can’t you see? I am the cockroach.” She pressed on, “I won’t die even if you eat me. I will just scratch your bowels, and you will have no choice but to slash yourself open to get me out.” 

He scoffed. “Perhaps, I should kill you now and find out for myself.” 

“Or perhaps, you should let me live tonight and you can prove it yourself in whatever way you desire. I promise you I won’t run back to the village in the morning. I will be here tomorrow night, and you will know how honest I am.” 

He shifted in his seat and inhaled as if he was about to protest, but something suddenly gave him pause. He whipped his head toward the window beside the front door, and Wednesday followed his gaze.  

The daybreak, it arrived. 

At his unintelligible muttering, she glanced at him again, and although it was faint, she could glimpse strands of ochre curls and an eye that glowed yellow under the morning twilight.  

“Very well,” he remarked. “I will let you live on one condition. Collect water from the lake and return at sunset.”  

He got up swiftly, sending the chair swinging. His steps were quick, and not once did he look back at her as he crossed the room. Wednesday caught sight of his golden skin before he disappeared behind the door to the tower.  

II: BLUEBEARD’S NEW WIFE

Wednesday readied herself for the trip to the lake after finishing her lunch, which consisted of what was left from yesterday’s soup. She explored the side of the cottage afterward, finding a wooden bucket that she didn’t notice last night. With the bucket in one hand and, in the other, the waterskin and bath towel she took out of her knapsack, Wednesday set out for the lake. 

It was, she soon discovered, easier planned than done.  

She reckoned that the lake would be within a short distance. Wednesday figured the witch had built the cottage at its current location because there was a source of water nearby; she just didn’t know where it was. She wondered if this was why the man gave her this task. Maybe he wanted her to get lost in the woods.  

It was a little less than an hour later when she, at long last, found the lake. Wednesday worked efficiently, filling the bucket and her waterskin before dipping her towel in the water to wipe her face and parts of her body with it. Instead of keeping her alert, doing so only made her drowsy. Although she did go to sleep after dawn, the journey through the woods and hours of staying awake took a toll on her stamina. Wednesday made her way to one of the big trees by the lake to sit underneath it and lean against the trunk. Alone with her thoughts, she resorted to musing on the town on the far side of the woods and how easy it was to just run away. The last thing on her mind before she dozed off was the memory of her promising the man in the witch's cottage that she would stay. 

When her eyes fluttered open, it was nighttime already. There was a floating light in the distance, and she recognized it as the crackling fire on the cottage’s hearth. Wednesday started her trek back, using the light, and not to mention the smoke puffing out of the chimney, as guidance. But lifting the heavy bucket of water exhausted her energy, and Wednesday breathed out in relief when she found another pot of boiling soup welcoming her to the cottage. 

Just as before, the man emerged as the flames were dying out. Despite his monstrous reputation, it was he who gasped in alarm when he saw her, once again, sitting cross-legged on the bed.  

How could this be, when he made sure to add leaves from poisonous plants into the soup he cooked for her earlier? And yet, she was alive. 

So, she wasn’t lying. Killing her would require more effort on his part.  

How odd, he thought. She was so small. He had fought and won against a deer much bigger than her, but here he was, being overwhelmed by such a petite woman. In pigtails, no less! He would have mistaken her for a fellow monster if it hadn’t been for her unfocused gaze in the general direction of his face. That was the one thing that told him that she was completely human because, unlike him, she didn’t possess heightened nocturnal vision. Nonetheless, as he secretly stared at her wide eyes and full lips, he could still feel her scrutinizing him. 

“Why are you not wearing any clothes?” she asked, breaking the silence. 

Indeed, she was scrutinizing him. 

“Because my clothes will be torn apart when I turn into the monster, so I don’t bother wearing any.” 

“Then I have great news. You can wear them after tomorrow when we go our separate ways.” 

He couldn’t resist chuckling. She still believed she would come out of this in one piece; that was so endearing of her. “How so? I still don’t understand what you’re trying to do here.” 

“Well, you’re in luck, because I will relate to you a story that will enlighten you.” 

“Another one?” Upon meeting him, the women before her couldn’t even get a word out, let alone narrate not one, but two stories. He would be deceiving himself if he said he wasn’t intrigued. Taking his seat in the rocking chair, he decided to indulge her again. “Go on.” 

On his cue, Wednesday began, “This one is titled, Bluebeard’s New Wife, 

“Once upon a time, there was a man who had everything. It was such a pity that he was born with a blue beard, which made him so hideous to behold. As if it wasn’t enough to give people disgust, there were also talks about his six wives, who all had gone missing mysteriously. One day, while visiting his neighbor, Bluebeard disclosed his intent to wed the youngest daughter. Although reluctant at first, the daughter eventually relented after catching a glimpse of his riches. Not long after the wedding, Bluebeard announced to his new wife that he must leave for a few weeks to attend an affair elsewhere. He then bestowed upon her a master key that could open every door in his mansion. However, he warned her not to unlock the room on the ground floor.”   

The man cut her off, “I think I’ve heard of this one before.” 

“I can assure you, you have not.” 

“And what if I have?” 

“I will give you permission to eat me.” At that, he let her continue. “Now where was I? 

“Bluebeard warned his wife not to unlock the room on the ground floor. But of course, that was exactly what she did. At first, she couldn’t see anything, for all the windows were shut. But after some time, it became obvious to her that the floor was covered all over in blood. And the walls! Oh, lined up along the walls were the corpses of Bluebeard's previous wives. Startled, she dropped the key to the floor, staining it with blood. And try as she might, she couldn’t wash the blood off, as the key was a magical one. Out of the blue, she received reports that Bluebeard would be home sooner than scheduled, 

“The morning after his homecoming, Bluebeard asked his wife for the master key. Needless to say, he spotted the blood in an instant. Learning that she had disobeyed him, he exploded with rage. He unsheathed his sword, aiming to strike her.” 

Here, the man interrupted Wednesday, “I told you that I have heard this before. Can I eat you now?” 

“I’m not done yet,” she insisted. “Bluebeard might be aiming to strike his wife, but never did he execute her. ‘My dear husband,’ said she, before he had the chance to deal a death blow to her. ‘Worry not, for I have scrubbed the blood off the floor and the walls before your arrival, and I have spent night after night digging a hole so deep in our back garden and burying the ladies in it. Forgive me for being disobedient, but the stench of death was invading the other parts of our home, and I couldn’t risk you getting caught.’ Her words melted Bluebeard’s heart, and it was then that he realized that he had found his match. And from that day forward, Bluebeard and his new wife lived gruesomely ever after. The end.” 

Wednesday’s mouth twitched slightly when the man laughed heartily. “You were right,” he said, “I never heard that one before. But why would the wife collude with him?” 

“Why else?” Wednesday replied. “She agreed to marry him while knowing about his missing wives. She did it to get away from her family and own her own riches.” 

“Was her family cruel to her?” 

“They were not, but she could no longer put up with her parents’ incessant schemes to make her fall in love and have a family of her own. It didn’t help that the son of another affluent and esteemed household had been trying to woo her, much to her dismay.” 

If Wednesday could look at his face in the dark, she would have seen him blinking profusely. “It sounds to me like you were projecting,” he commented. 

She gulped air into her lungs, then released it forcefully. There was no use denying it; this was what she came for. “True. And that is why I volunteered.” At his sharp intake of breath, she remembered that he wasn’t aware that she had chosen to be here. "I want to get out of the village and leave for the town beyond the woods. And I want— I need your help. I need you. Every year, the villagers would wait to hear a monster’s roar and a woman’s scream. That’s how we find out that the deed is done.” 

“So,” he interjected, “you need me to roar?” 

“And my family and the ratty boy will think that I’m already dead, and no one will be looking for me as I build my new life. We’ll keep each other’s secrets.” 

“How do I know you won't betray me?” 

“I give you my words,” she said, “as an Addams.” 

“Addams?” 

“That’s my name. Wednesday Addams.”  

"Well, Wednesday Addams," he drawled. "I will have to think about it and get back to you tomorrow because the day is dawning." 

Wednesday whirled her head toward the front window. He was, of course, correct. She watched the early light gliding up so carefully, penetrating the trees and landing on the inside of the cottage.  

“Don’t forget to collect water from the lake and return at sunset,” he instructed, softly. 

Wednesday fixed her gaze on him once more. It was fascinating, she thought, how his eyes looked yellow no more. In fact, they were as green as the forest he lived in, while his hair was the color of a deer’s coat.  

She found herself blurting out, “And you? What should I call you?” 

He didn’t answer at once, seemingly debating with himself as he went rigid in the rocking chair. It was a while later when he said, “Tyler.” 

“And your family name?” 

“I don’t know.” 

In contrast to his hasty steps from yesterday, he crept toward the back door and took his time opening it. A ray fell on his back, allowing Wednesday a view of lean muscles and faded scars on his shoulder blade. She didn’t even realize she was staring until the man closed the door behind him and she unwittingly let out a sigh of disappointment.

III: MY AUNT DEBORAH

The following day, as she drifted off to sleep under the tree at the edge of the lake, Wednesday thought about how much she would miss the unpopulated woods. As she slurped the soup she had at dinner, a feeling imbued her mind, I could get used to this. When Tyler appeared before her, he immediately trotted toward the rocking chair as if he was prepared for another tale. Perhaps she wasn’t the only one sinking too quickly into a routine.  

Wednesday had never been more horrified in her entire life. 

It seemed only fitting that she would relate to him a story of true crime. “I can assure you, you have not heard of this one before.” 

“Why is that?” he queried. 

“Because it is based on real-life events experienced by people I know,” Wednesday explained. “This one is titled, My Aunt Deborah,  

"Once upon a time, there was a girl who loved pastels, jewelry, and murder. She went by the name of Deborah. Since she was very little, she was determined to dedicate her life to the pursuit of her interests. Which was why she burned down her childhood residence, with both her parents in it. Years went by, and the orphan girl grew up to be a beautiful, albeit insane, woman. The males in her village would trip over each other just to fawn over her. Young and old. Bachelor and widower. Rich and poor. Two-headed and eleven-toed. It didn’t matter what their status was—be it social, political, marital, parental, illegal, moral—the men would pledge their undying love to her and vow to worship her. She could have anyone, and all she had to do was take her pick. And pick a man, she did. And not just any man, but the wealthiest physician in the village, 

“And so, a wedding was held. It was the most extravagant festivity that the village had ever witnessed. The celebration went on until the bride and groom withdrew to their new, massive, expensive house, with its crystal chandeliers and golden tapestry. The newlyweds lived moderately happily for a few weeks, but being a capable physician, Deborah's husband was rarely home, as his service was often required. And that made her angry because she had needs that were not satisfied. One night, Deborah took an axe and committed her first murder as an adult, 

"In the morning, she bawled and wailed like a woman possessed, racing through the village to inform the folks of the misfortune that had befallen her husband. None of the villagers suspected the pitiful young widow and they gave her space to grieve. All in all, things went exactly as Deborah had planned. She was left to her own devices as she lived in luxury and spent her dead husband's fortune on every pastel trinket and piece of jewelry she could get. Eventually, the money ran out, and Deborah ran away to a neighboring village in search of a new rich husband to murder. She would repeat this method two more times until she traveled to a faraway village where she set her eyes on her last target, Fester Addams." 

The rocking chair swayed to and fro as Tyler shuffled in his seat to sit on the edge. “A relative?” 

“My uncle,” Wednesday stated. “Disguising herself as my brother’s governess, she resided in our family manor to seduce Uncle Fester. They were married a mere month after they met each other. My uncle took her to a new, massive, expensive house, with its own crystal chandeliers and golden tapestry. We didn’t hear from him for three weeks. Unbeknownst to us, Deborah had been making several attempts on Uncle Fester’s life the entire time. All her efforts were futile, of course.”  

“Because you’re a family of cockroaches.” 

Wednesday arched her eyebrows at the compliment. “Why, thank you,” she said, evoking laughter from Tyler. She waited for it to subside, reveling in the deep, throaty sound that she didn’t find irritating. She continued after a while, “Now where was I? 

“Uncle Fester burst through the doors of our family manor three weeks after his wedding, covered with the ashes of his burned house. Apparently, out of desperation, Deborah had recourse to arson. But when my uncle survived, she chased him down with an axe all the way to the manor, where she cornered all of us and made us strap ourselves to my father’s collection of electric instruments.” Sensing Tyler's quizzical squint, she added, “My father is a deadly contraption enthusiast, 

“Deborah pulled the lever that would surely send us all to our death. However, being unaccustomed to the machines, she failed to detect a faulty wire that could redirect electric current. Therefore, rather than electrocuting us, she managed to fatally injure herself. She was killed in a matter of seconds, and my Uncle Fester was safe and sound. Physically, that is. He’s very ill and damaged mentally. The end.” 

Tyler hummed as if considering her story, before asking her with an accusatory tone, “A faulty wire? Are you sure nobody interfered with it?” 

“Why does it matter when we only wanted to protect ourselves from those who wish to harm us?” She resumed, then, “Sic gorgiamus allos subjectatos nunc.”  

“What does that mean?” 

"It's the Addams Family's credo. It means 'We gladly feast on those who would subdue us,'" she explained. "It can be interpreted in a variety of ways. For example, an Addams doesn't take deception lightly. When we're promised something, we expect the other party to keep it. Especially when they promise to help us escape to the town on the other side of these woods." 

The realization hit him fast. “Oh,” he exclaimed, resting his back against the chair. “Oh, so this is about me now.” 

“I just think you need to know what I’m capable of if you call off our agreement.” 

“Is that a threat?” 

“It could be.” 

“Funny,” he replied. “I don’t remember promising or agreeing to anything.” 

That was true, Wednesday thought, but she’d be damned if she was going to admit defeat. “Why don’t you agree to it now? You won’t lose anything by helping me. You will be left on your own again until next year when a new sacrifice comes.” 

“Well,” he hesitated. The shadows might have concealed his face from Wednesday, but the quietness loudened his voice as he mumbled. “Perhaps I don’t want a new one. Perhaps I’ve changed my mind and I don’t want to be alone anymore.” He grew silent again for some time until she heard him swallow, then say, “Perhaps I like having you with me, making up these stories, asking my name. No one has done that before. You make me laugh.” 

“Don’t,” she hissed. 

“You must know that I can see you in the dark. That's the perk of being a beast. I can see you trying your hardest not to smile whenever I laugh. And I can feel your eyes on me every time dawn comes.” 

“No.” 

“And I heard how you talked about your family. You’re upset at them, but you love them. You don’t have to be away from them if you stay here. And I can scare that boy off for you. You don’t have to go.” 

“I’ve had enough!” Wednesday spat out, climbing down the bed in the meanwhile. She paused to search for her knapsack on the floor and dashed toward the front door as soon as she wore it. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” he cried out. 

“I’m going back to the village. I’ll tell everyone the truth.” 

“Don’t you dare!” he yelled, jumping out of his seat. But Wednesday ignored him and stomped out of the cottage without so much as a glance.  

Outside, she could barely look at the path ahead, and yet she kept going. Her ears picked up the sound of the cottage’s door opening and closing somewhere behind her, letting her know that Tyler was running after her, and she marched on. 

“Wednesday!” 

She paid him no heed and staggered onward, deeper into the woods. 

“Wednesday!” 

This was all his fault, anyway. For insinuating that— That— 

Her musings were halted by another noise, except this time, it wasn't Tyler calling out to her. It was his voice but wasn't at the same time. It was both him and not him bellowing, in the beginning, in agony. And then, with rage. 

Wednesday stopped in her tracks and turned around. 

She could no longer perceive an outline of a man. In fact, Wednesday had to tilt her head up to see the gigantic being before her. She was too much in a daze to make any movement, much less form a thought in her mind. It wasn’t until the creature growled and her sheer shock caused her to tumble down onto the ground that it occurred to her that this was it. This was the terrifying monster in the rumors.  

And yet, she couldn't find it in her to scream. 

Not when the light revealed itself on the horizon at last. It illuminated the sky and everything below the clouds, reaching Wednesday's eyes and enabling her to appreciate it— him —for the first time. Too stunned to do anything but stare at his enormous head, she locked eyes with the monster as it roared at her.  

And still, she didn’t scream. 

Why would she when she wasn’t afraid? How could she be frightened of something so magnificent? 

“Tyler,” she whispered. 

Feeble though it was, her voice seemed to snap him out of his stupor. Diverting his attention away from her, he glared into the distance and finally noticed that a new day had arisen. He swung around at such speed and walked a few steps on all fours before his clawed, elongated arms shrunk into slender hands; his light gray hide changed into familiar golden skin; and a terrorizing monster became a terror-stricken man. Wednesday watched him stumbling on his two feet as he rushed into the cottage and hid himself from the world. 

IV: THE GREEDY LAWYER AND THE EVIL STEPMOTHER

Tyler might not send her to get water, but Wednesday still visited the lake all the same. But unlike on the previous days, she returned to the cottage without delay. Wednesday knew he only made her wait until sunset because he wanted to cook the soup for her while she was gone; that was as clear as the flavors of the poisonous leaves he used as ingredients on the second night. This time, though, she wanted to personally cook the soup for herself—and also for him. She didn’t know how he usually ate his meals, and she wasn't an expert on anything domestic, but boiling a pot of water filled with wild, edible plants she gathered from around the lake shouldn’t be too difficult, no? 

She assumed he would get out of his tower in the afternoon to set up a fire on the hearth like he had been doing for the past few days. She supposed he would be surprised to find her home so early and he would have no choice but to converse with her. Then, perhaps they could discuss what happened over dinner. Wednesday thought she wasn’t fond of talking, but apparently, that was what she had been doing with Tyler. 

But Tyler never got out of his tower, whether it was to light up the fireplace or to converse. Lucky for Wednesday, she could start the fire herself, as Aunt Deborah wasn’t the only one in the family with a passion for burning objects. Sadly, she also shared her aunt’s knack for destruction, because when Wednesday tasted her soup, she couldn’t recall the last time she had dinner so terrible. Even so, she suspected the bitterness in her tongue had less to do with her dish than Tyler's absence. She had gone through all this trouble for him, and yet— 

In hindsight, she should have been pleased that she came back to the cottage before sundown. If she had been outdoors and there was no light to guide her way through the dark, she would have gotten disoriented in the woods. Yet, she could feel nothing but frustration. 

That night, instead of sitting with her legs crossed, Wednesday lay down on her bed with her eyes open, kept restlessly awake by her busy thoughts.  

“Why are you still here?” 

At Tyler’s voice, she sat up abruptly, finding his silhouette near the foot of the bed. She wasn’t even aware that the flames had gone out already. “I have my excuses.” 

He scoffed. “You wanted me to roar, and I did.” 

“I said I needed a roar and a scream.” 

“That’s your fault. Why didn’t you scream?” 

“Because I wasn’t afraid.” 

There was a drawn-out beat before he spoke in a low murmur, “Why weren’t you?” 

Wednesday scooted down the bed and bent each leg under the other. “I will relate to you a story that will make you understand.”  

“Another one?”  

Tyler chuckled, but the sound was lacking its signature lightheartedness. He stayed still afterward, standing awkwardly without anything to say. It was then that she realized that he was fully clothed. For some strange reason, it gave Wednesday a fright. It was as if he had given up on her and whatever it was occurring between them. It compelled her to declare, “It’s another true story about my Uncle Fester.” 

Despite the dark, she was sure that he was narrowing his eyelids at her as he noted, “He’s lived a very eventful life.” 

“Did you know that he once went missing and was found tangled in a tuna net?” she added if only to spark his interest even more. 

Tyler let out a loud exhale through his nose at that. Wednesday observed him as he grasped the back of the rocking chair, moving it with his hand. It swayed like the mechanical bird in a cuckoo clock, or perhaps like his mind, switching from one decision to another. When he heaved a sigh and finally settled himself in the chair, Wednesday released a breath she didn’t even realize she had been holding. 

“Go on,” he urged. 

With that, she began, “This one is titled The Greedy Lawyer and the Evil Stepmother, 

“Once upon a time, there was a greedy lawyer who borrowed a lot of money from an evil stepmother. As he was unable to pay back what he owed, the lawyer conveyed to the stepmother about a secret vault under the house of one of his clients, Gomez Addams, my father. The two of them then put together an elaborate scheme to rob Father of his treasures. Their cunning tricks involved commanding the stepmother’s son to impersonate my father’s estranged older brother, Fester.” 

Tyler cut in, “So, this was before he got married?” 

“Yes,” she confirmed. “The lawyer and the stepmother were hoping that Father, who would be in such an ecstatic state after reuniting with his brother, would voluntarily show Fester the way to the underground vault. To their distress, getting to the vault wasn’t as easy as taking a mace from a baby. And so, Fester was forced to spend more time with my family, 

“Now, you see, the stepmother always treated Fester very poorly. It was hardly any wonder that Fester gradually came to prefer our company to hers. She wouldn’t have that, of course,  

“Worried that they would lose their access to Father’s assets, the lawyer and the stepmother kept my mother hostage in our own manor. They threatened to torture Mother and ordered Father to lead them to the vault. Just when Father was about to give in, Fester, who had had a change of heart, went to the rescue. He drove the lawyer and the stepmother out of the house, where lightning bolts miraculously shot from the sky and hit both of them directly. The end.” 

Tyler was biding his time as he mulled over the story. “That’s a fortunate coincidence," he commented, emphasizing his last word. 

“More or less.”  

“So, your Uncle Fester is not really your Uncle Fester?” 

“Oh, he is,” Wednesday remarked. “He drowned in the ocean and suffered from amnesia. That’s why he didn’t remember Father. But the same lightning that killed the lawyer and his stepmother also struck him and managed to cure him.” 

“Your family is very,” he trailed off, leaning his head to the side as if ruminating on the appropriate adjective. “Colorful,” he concluded after a while. 

“Ironic considering Uncle Fester is the black sheep. He’s harmless.” 

This time, when Tyler laughed, Wednesday didn’t bother stopping the corners of her lips from curling up.  

He said, then, “But I still haven’t had a clue why you would tell me that story.”  

“Can’t you see?” she asked. “I’ve looked into the eyes of real monsters, and they sit behind desks with ties around their necks and they ill-treat those weaker than them. They are the monsters that everyone should be wary of, not the ones with claws or fangs. And that’s why I wasn’t afraid of you. I am not afraid of you.” 

As a response, Tyler clutched the arms of the rocking chair, using them for leverage as he stood up. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” Wednesday inquired in a pitch that was too high for her liking. “It’s not dawn yet.” 

“What?” he muttered, “you can’t be the only one with the tendency to run away from their emotions.” 

Wednesday huffed but could do nothing other than watch him dragging his feet toward the back door.  

Curse him for pointing out the obvious! 

As it was in her nature not to be outdone in any way, Wednesday called out to him in a hurry, “I will go to the lake in the morning and return at sunset. You will light your fire for me, will you not? I will be lost without it.” 

There, her feelings! Out in the open! Let it be known that he was absolutely wrong. She could face her emotions should she wish to do it.   

Wednesday thought she could see Tyler nodding before he left. She hoped she wasn’t just imagining it. 

V: THE CHILD FULL OF WOE

He did it. 

Tyler lit the fire.  

Wednesday saw the light from where she stood by the lake, beckoning her home like a lighthouse to a ship in the night. She would have gladly crashed against the rocky shore if it meant she could find harbor within its tower. She would have been content with scraps and rags, but she had been fed, heard, housed, and beloved instead. 

A few hours later in the dark, Wednesday was sitting on the bed per usual as Tyler, in what seemed to be white shirt and dark-colored trousers, rested his back against the rocking chair. 

Her lonely keeper. 

Or perhaps the sea monster.  

Or perhaps both of them combined into one, luring doomed seamen into false safety with his beacon before devouring them in one bite. 

What a story to tell it would be. 

Speaking of sea monsters— “This one is titled, The Child Full of Woe, 

“Once upon a time, there was a girl who was full of woe. When she was six years old, she befriended a little scorpion, which she named Nero after the sadistic emperor. Like any other person and their animal companion, the girl would regularly walk Nero in the open field where he could play in the sun. The girl was very much aware of the disapproving glares from other field-goers and pet owners. But she and Nero didn’t do anything wrong. Why must they be condemned? 

"It was a week after All Hallows' Eve when it happened. The girl was taking Nero out for his afternoon stroll when three boys twice her age, thrice her size, and half her wit surrounded her, taunting her. They wondered what kind of freak of nature would have a scorpion for a pet. One of them held the girl down and made her watch while the others ran over Nero, 

"It was snowing when the girl buried what was left of Nero in the cemetery behind her house. She cried her heart out until there was nothing left between her lungs anymore. Every vein, every artery of the organ had flowed out of her along with her tears. That was the day she became a monster with a hollowed chest, 

"Since then, every morning she woke up, she would don black clothing to cover the hole in her upper body. Nevertheless, everyone knew something was amiss. They could see it in her dead eyes, they could hear it in her one-toned voice, they could definitely feel it in the pain she inflicted upon them, 

“Many years passed, and the girl grew up to be a young woman who was full of woe. She learned that the world had changed in a lot of ways, but its inhabitants, not so much. The same kind of people who hurt Nero when she was six remained the same; they just found a new target in her brother. They ridiculed him for being different, and one day, the woman decided that she had had enough.” 

Tyler cut in, “Because we feast on those who would subdue us?” 

“Yes,” she answered, as her eyes sought his within the shadows. Of course he correctly guessed that this story was about her, she thought. “Now where was I? 

“One day, the woman decided that she had had enough. She successfully procured two buckets of flesh-eating fish and dumped them into the lake while those ruffians were swimming in it.” 

When Tyler interrupted again, it was with a giggle that he so gloriously failed to suppress. The words he spoke afterward, however, were no joking matter. "I knew there was a reason I liked you."  

The fire had long gone out, but Wednesday’s skin had never felt so warm. Her breath caught in her throat, and she had to let out a cough before she resumed, “But woe was her tale, for her revenge, justified though it was, had vexed the gods who all resolved to punish her. For she had outraged the king of the ocean by spilling blood into a body of water, they chained her to a rock in the middle of the sea. They enlarged the hole in her chest and turned her limbs into flippers for good measure. Three times a day, the seawater would be sucked into the void, creating disastrous whirlpools that could swallow a ship whole. And there, chained to a rock in the sea, she lived as a fearsome monster until the end of time. The end.” 

She was anticipating one of his chuckles or questions; she was even expecting him to leave her like he did the previous night. Yet, by the conclusion of her story, Tyler offered her nothing and merely hunched forward in the rocking chair. 

“No,” he remarked, firmly. 

“Excuse me?” 

“No,” he repeated. “That can’t be it. That can’t be the end. Tell me more!” 

“She,” Wednesday began, then stopped. “She— The woman—” For the life of her, she couldn’t think of one sentence. The woman was always going to be a monster; that was supposed to be her end. 

“I— I can’t. I cannot,” she sighed, exasperatedly. “I don’t know how!” 

At that, Tyler sat up straight. He planted his feet on the floor and tilted his chin up to look directly at her. 

And he said, “Then I will relate to you a story.” 

VI: THE LOST BOY

Tyler didn’t give Wednesday a chance to recover from her surprise. It was as if he wanted to lay everything out before his own reservation could stall him. He was by no means a storyteller and his words might be flawed. Still, he began, "This one is titled, The Lost Boy, 

“Once upon a time, there was an ordinary man who fell in love with an ordinary woman. They were soon wed in an ordinary ceremony and lived their ordinary life in an ordinary house. But that all changed when the man found his wife dissolving into tears, 

"'What have troubled you so?' asked the man. To his wonder, his wife revealed to him that she was with a child. The man rejoiced greatly, but it only caused his wife to fall into deeper despair. Between sobs, a long-kept secret she finally revealed, 

“As it turned out, the wife wasn’t quite an ordinary woman. Nay, she wasn’t ordinary at all. To her husband, she talked about a curse in her family, which had been passed from generation to generation. A curse that could change every man and woman of her clan into a monster when they suffered the utmost pain. The wife was worried that the torment of childbirth would make a monster out of her, and there was nothing they could do to avoid it. But the husband had a plan, 

"For as long as he could remember, there had been chatter about a witch who lived in the woods beyond the village. They said her potions could heal and cause illnesses, they said her spells could invoke and erase curses, they said she could help you or destroy you. But beware! For wicked was the witch, and there would be a price to pay by anyone mad enough to knock on the door of her cottage. But cautionary advice meant nothing to a man's hopeless devotion. So, one night, after selling most of his possessions, the husband took his wife to the witch's cottage in the woods, 

“Upon hearing the pair's predicament, the witch shook her head, for she could not break an ancestral curse that was put by another. But don’t be discouraged, said the witch, because she knew of a spell that could ward off labor pain and prevent the wife from becoming a monster. The pair was delighted; more so when the witch offered the husband a one-of-a-kind potion. ‘I only have enough coins for the spell,’ said the husband. The witch told him not to worry because, in the future, he would gain something of tremendous value that he could use to compensate for her gift. ‘But what is this potion for?’ asked the husband. ‘In time, you will know,’ answered the witch, 

"She did keep her promise and a healthy baby boy was safely born nine months later. There was just one problem. Pain wasn’t just a matter of the body; it was also that of the mind. And sometimes, a mother’s pain didn’t end at her child’s birth; it might begin afterward. The wife figured this out too late. By that time, all the sadness, exhaustion, and agitation that drew her apart from her husband and son had eaten her brain. The ailment consumed her from the inside, until one day, she couldn’t contain the pain anymore. It triggered the curse and turned her into the monster, 

"The husband saw it all happening; how she screamed in anguish, how she looked as if she was going to erupt, how she lost herself. And then, it came to him. This was why the witch gave him the potion! And so, before his wife could fully transform, he ran toward her with the potion bottle in his hand and forced the liquid down her throat. It worked like magic. All signs of the monster were gone in a whiff, leaving the wife unconscious in her human state. Relieved, the husband waited for her to wake up. But she never did, 

“Hysterical and guilt-stricken, the husband hurried to the witch’s cottage, carrying his son in his arms. ‘You lied to me!’ cried he. The witch met his anger with her jeers, and said, ‘I spoke no lies, for I spoke of nothing. And now, I demand my payment.’ It was only then that the husband understood that his son was the thing of value that he must offer to the witch. He resisted at first, but when the witch reminded him that his son would one day become a monster like his wife, he yielded, 

“And so it was, the tale about how the lost boy came to live with the wicked witch.” 

Tyler took a deep breath and slowly let it out as he turned his head to the front window. Wednesday knew what he saw there. Truth be told, the first light of the day had surfaced while he was narrating his story, but he paid it no mind until he came to a pause. And for once, Wednesday didn’t trace his line of sight. Instead, she took the opportunity to study him, as she finally had a full view of the curls on his head and his comely appearance, no less breathtaking than the majestic monster.  

At that, Wednesday implored, “Please tell me more.” 

Tyler fixed his stare on her again. His eyes lingered on her for a few seconds too long before he resumed, “Now where was I? 

"The lost boy came to live with the wicked witch. He couldn't remember when it was exactly, but the witch had unleashed his monster since he was very young. All his life, all he ever knew was pain. It came from not only the fire iron the witch would poke at his skin but also her piercing insults when she made him look at his monster's reflection in the lake and told him how hideous he was. The witch alerted him of her rivals and other people she despised, and how he needed to slaughter them after his coming of age when his strength would reach its full extent. Having never met or seen other humans, he would believe everything the witch said, 

“But then he got older, and he found a fairy tale book that the witch had hidden. You see, it was the only thing that his father had left him when he was given away. The lost boy confronted the witch, who confessed everything, as she was conceited and convinced that he would stay obedient to his master. But the loyalty he had ever felt toward the witch was not earned; it was wrung out of him. It could snap as easily and quickly as it was forged, so when the boy found out that he had been lied to his whole life— The murder of the wicked witch was as much the boy’s responsibility as it was his monster’s, 

“For one year, the boy lived alone, free of pain, until outsiders kept coming to him uninvited. The thought of being used again by another human scared him, and he would kill those visitors one by one. Each death happened before the night was over, so he wouldn’t have to see himself in his victims’ eyes, 

"After the loss of six innocent lives, the gods could bear it no more and gave him severe punishment. Because they knew how much he hated his own image, they turned him into the monster that he was and chained him to a rock in the middle of the sea, where he was made to glare at his reflection for eternity, 

“But there was one thing that even the all-knowing, almighty gods didn’t see coming. Disgusted by his monstrous reflection, the boy glanced up. And that was when he noticed another monster, already chained to a rock across from him. When they looked at each other, he didn’t find his grotesque self in her eyes. What he perceived was admiration and acceptance, and he knew she also found the same thing mirrored in his eyes when she beheld them, 

"And so it was, the two monsters had discovered a lifetime companion in each other. They spent the rest of their existence wrecking ships, drowning sailors, and striking fear into the hearts of men while loving one another until the end of time. The end." 

A chuckle escaped Wednesday's mouth despite herself. Enough light had entered the cottage through the window by then, and she caught Tyler's gaze as it inadvertently darted toward her lips. She was still undecided about the real colors in his eyes, but something told her she would have endless time trying to figure them out. 

So, she told him, “No.” 

There was an amused smirk on his face as he asked, “Excuse me?” 

“That is not the end,” she said. “That is only the beginning.” 

EPILOGUE

There was an old manor on the top of the hill where a man and his dearest wife lived. One day, the man hollered her name in a frenzy, "Tish! Tish!" 

And his wife, Morticia, replied, “What news have you received, Gomez?”

“The most miserable one,” said he. “The latest one chosen to be sacrificed has returned to the village!”

Morticia raised an eyebrow in question. “Alive?”

“Regrettably so.”

“Whatever happened?”

“When the woman reached the witch’s cottage, she saw that it had long been abandoned! No one, neither monster nor human, was lurking there.” 

“But you told me it was a miserable tiding!” 

“Well, was it not? We will be deprived of a delicious scream this year.” 

“Oh, Gomez. Of course, it was unfortunate,” exclaimed Morticia. “But doesn’t this make you wonder about the previous sacrifice?” 

“You mean, our daughter? Does it have something to do with the booklet from the town next door that you showed me the other day?” asked Gomez. “Do you mean to tell me that that is truly our Wednesday?” 

Morticia nodded. “And there’s something else I mean to tell you.” A coy smile grazed her lips as she husked, “It seems our wish has come true, after all.” 

Meanwhile, the town in question had been abuzz with tales of horror—both the real and fictional kinds. For the last few months, several men and women had been found dead in a ghastly manner. Following investigations, however, some of those victims had been identified as child abusers. Some others were moneylenders, and the rest were lawyers.   

The townspeople were rattled by this so-called villainous presence in their life. And yet, nothing excited them like the creature in a new much-adored penny dreadful series. Written by a mysterious author who referred to themself as “W. F. Addams”, it told a story about a female detective named Viper de la Muerte and her nemesis, a serial-killing monster she called Hyde. 

Only two people knew the truth that the monsters roaming the streets and haunting the stories were one and the same. And it tickled the author and her muse so whenever they heard people cursing one and admiring the other in the same breath. 

“Did you hear?” asked Tyler. “Some readers have been wondering if Viper is going to have Hyde murdered in the end.” 

Wednesday contemplated that information for a while. “Is that so? Then, I will give them a shocking twist instead,” said she. “I will make Viper fall in love with the monster.”  

At Tyler’s chuckle, Wednesday continued, “Besides, it’s art imitating life.”