Seven Grim Little Monsters

[Jubal]

Seven Grim Little Monsters

By Jubal

It's the time of ghosts and ghasts and things that go bump in the night! To celebrate, or at least pass the terrors of the dark days onto you all to share, here's seven novel or less usual pitches for the sort of little folk-horror monstrosities that one might be unfortunate enough to encounter. Some of them have suggestions for dealing with them - for others, you're on your own. Read on, dear traveller of the dank and dark months. Read on - if you dare...

Eyewig

Rather smaller than an earwig, the eyewig burrows in underneath eyelids and into the corner of eyes, living at the back of the host creature's eye-socket. It latches onto the optical nerve, and can change the tone of what people see, manipulating its host into seeking the most lurid and exciting visions possible to feed its appetite for such stimuli. An eyewig host will, bloodshot-eyed, be found watching the most dangerous sports, the greatest firework displays, the most sultry or daring of entertainers, in an almost obsessive manner. After several months the eyewig will eventually have its larvae burst forth out of the eye, blinding its host, whereupon it will die, its grim life fulfilled.

Shrew of Shades

A tiny animal ghost that has forgotten anything except the terror of fleeing from whatever killed it. It passes through a world it never understood as fast as its little legs can run, always running, knowing nothing but running, spreading the little ends of its fear to those it passes by. Who has not felt, without warning, their hair standing on end, or jolts that wake a being up in the night and make them feel strangely small? Those are the marks of the shrew of shades as it runs. It cannot be reasoned with, and knows neither rest nor hope.

There is no known way to give the Shrew of Shades rest from its bleak little existence.

Pluck-fowl

This creature haunts coops where foxes take the hens, fields where a wolf took a lamb, and homes where a child or a cat died of neglect. It takes the form of a flightless bird, not large, but with ragged spines where there should be feathers, with sharp teeth on the inside of its beak and a gas-grey stare in its wild eyes. It especially attacks those who are asleep, demanding that all must be on watch in penance for the failure that brought it into being.

To be laid to rest, the pluck-fowl must be caught and bundled entirely in feathers and cloth, and then laid safely beside a burning hearth for a day and a night, always watched over. It will often cause calamities in the house where this happens, breaking pots or curdling milk, but some eye must be kept on it at all times or it will burst forth and be even stronger than before. Once this has been done, it will say the names of the gods watching that place three times, and can be placed into the fire where it will be burned, blessing the watchful home.

Toecurler

The toecurler burrows underneath a toenail to lay its egg. As the single larva grows, it pushes out between the toenail and the toe itself, using a numbing secretion to reduce the chance of the host killing it too soon, until the nail can eventually be freed: pulling it out, the adult creature can then use the toenail as a shell in its adult life, protecting it against predators and the elements. The sight of a single legged toenail scuttling across the floor is, needless to say, not ideal for the faint of heart.

The best way to kill a toecurler is with a large hammer.

The Alone

It is said that the alone can best be seen by those whose eyes adjust after hours upon hours of staring without hope that anything can change. Its form has many branches and roots that, unchecked, will wrap themselves around a room, slowly drawing the colour and warmth from everything around it.

Even if there are several people present, they will find themselves more distant from one another around it, less able to share their burdens. An error oft committed is to assume that the Alone can be defeated by mere distraction, its pursuit outrun: it is patient, if patience is even an attribute that such a creature can have. To be defeated it must be seen, and faced on its own terms. Not all can achieve such a feat, and the mighty have no more defense against it than the meek.

Greywater Frog

The largish greywater frog is remarkably resistant to disease and parasites: not in the sense that it has few, but in the sense that it can host many with few ill effects. It tends to eat rotting meat from larger animals, as a scavenger: to increase the supply of such, it behaves in ways that tend to clog up and infest water sources. This may include a certain primitive level of dam-building to help water stagnate, pushing animal corpses into the water, and communally depositing feces or other bodily fluids around commonly used drinking areas.

The Greywater Frog suffers in salt water especially, and barrels of it are sometimes hauled from the sea to places where they are known to lurk. Anchor symbols are sometimes inscribed near ponds that they once frequented, though whether this echo of the sea that defeated them has any true effect is unknown.

Shatterstone

The shatterstone is made from the fading memory of a grave which, abandoned, is left to crumble or, yet worse, destroyed. Clinging to existence, the fragments of the headstone, no longer able to fulfil their duty, form a lurching, shifting form without legs or head, but often with reaching, grasping rocky limbs, ready to be remembered for the damage they inflict if needs be, or to shatter other stones in envy of the memories they retain.

The shatterstones will reform pieces into themselves, so breaking them with hammers is laborious and requires separately burying each piece of the stone at some distance: but they cannot abide the light of candles in particular, and they will recoil from animals and children who have had no chance to remember. They can be fully turned back and calmed to dust with proof that the grave's original occupant is indeed remembered in some other way or place, with a document containing their name or the recitation of some deed the occupant performed in life.


And there you have it, seven deeply unpleasant little creatures if ever you needed them - or if ever you needed just one more little fear to needle at the back of your mind. Or the back of your eye... happy Hallowe'en, one and all!

[The Seamstress]

I can't decide what's worse, the eyewig or the toecurler  Nightmare fuel, both of them!
(A fun read, nonetheless.)

[Spritelady]

I also found those specific two very grim! The whole set are pretty spooky!

[Jubal]

Thanks And yes, I think the toecurlers are grotesque but also kind of funny, whereas the eyewig is just horrible - it really is the same ick you get from e.g. the tadpole scene at the start of BG3, with a different subsequent operation. But we rightly think of our eyes as vulnerable and icky and anything messing with them as horrible.

I think the others are a bit more conventionally me: I think possibly my favourite is the pluck-fowl because it has such a folk-tale method of banishment? But it is a bit more folksy than horror as monsters go, for that exact reason.

[indiekid]

Are the excessive visual stimuli the eyewig's food? If so perhaps it can be starved to death by blindfolding the host for a few weeks. Or at least an eyepatch

[Jubal]

Yeah, I think I was imagining that. And yes, that's a good outside the box strategy: I'd probably let people have a go at that in a tabletop game