A Changeling of Sorts 1/7 (Patreon)

I know, I know. I've got Christmas Cookie to finish up but, I ended up sketching a little 'palette cleanser' sequence. I just wanted to do a no-obligation piece on my weekend. 

Thought about writing a full story for it but, then decided to do old school (for me) and do an intro and outro story with pics in between. 

Hope you like it!

THE STORY: 

A Sort of Changeling

“Dammit!” Robert shouted into the night woods, “How the hell can I be lost in my own back woods?”

He tried not to notice but, he was all too aware of how the sound of his shouts were muffled by the snow. Snow that was falling faster than the weather had predicted. 

He’d just gone for a quick snowshoe after lunch. Just out the back door for a trip around the ridge. That was hours ago. The sun was long set and he hadn’t even brought a headlamp. 

Why would I have brought one, he thought as he trudged through the deepening snow, I was on my own ridge, and barely out of sight of the house! He didn’t even bring his phone, why bother? Complaining was useless, he was here and this was now. But, what he couldn’t understand was how he could get lost in a place he’d lived for over a decade.

He was fighting panic now. He was dressed warmly enough, of course, but ski pants, softshell and a tech wool shirt would not help him survive the night. His breaths were coming faster than he’d like, a sure sign of panic, when turned suddenly to try to ‘fool’ whatever was causing him to be lost.

And there it was. 

A house. 

An impossible house. Never, in the decade of hiking this ridge in all seasons was there a three-story victorian house anywhere. There wasn’t one in the county, for that matter. 

Nevertheless, there it was.

It was a glorious edifice, which, even in his panic, his artistic mind appreciated. Turrets and slate shingles glowed in the diffuse moonlight that now flooded the clearing that hadn’t been there an hour ago. Soft, inviting, golden light poured from the windows.

He swallowed. This was beyond weird. But, what harm could it do to knock on the door? It’s not like a serial killer would live in a place like this. Would they? The question, he thought, was academic. If there was a killer inside, he could defend himself; he had had no real defense against the cold and the snow. 

He reached the bottom step and admired the front door. It was ornately carved in a Chippendale style with brass trim. He bent and removed his snowshoes, planting their tails in the snow at the base of the steps. Taking a deep breath, he ascended. 

As he kicked his boots off on the steps, he noticed that, not only were they shoveled, but the snow wasn’t accumulating on them. The flakes just drifted off as soon as they touched the wood. Great, he thought, more weirdness. He reached for the knocker and as he hit the striker plate, the door swung in a little bit as though it had not been fully closed. He turned to look back at the snowy woods, took another deep breath and pushed the door fully open. 

It swung easily on well-oiled hinges. It might have been better, he thought, if it had creaked.

“Hello?” He called out and laughed despite himself. He was thinking of the “Moms say Hello” sketch.

No answer. No sound at all except for the crackling of a fire in a nearby room. The foyer he stood in was tasteful yet lavish at the same time. An oak stairway led upstairs and carved door frames led to brightly lit rooms to his left and right. In the middle of the room was an elegant little table with a teddy bear on it. 

Weird, he thought as he closed the door behind him. 

“Hello!” he called again as he removed his boots, “I got lost in the woods and was wondering if I could use your phone or something?”

There was no answer. 

Robert shrugged and leaving his boots on the mat, went up to the teddy bear. He was never a big plushie fan but, this one looked exactly like the one he had as a kid, the one he named “Moonlight” because it would glow when the moonlight hit the shelf it lived on. 

“Weird,” he said to the bear, “You know, buddy, you look just like Moonlight.”

He found that he wanted to pick it up. To see if it felt like Moonlight. He knew it was silly. He had a good childhood with loving parents but, didn’t have a lot of nostalgia for the time. Still, it couldn’t hurt to pick it up.

He lifted the bear from its ornate table. 

Wow, Robert thought, it actually feels just like Moonli-