Legion MC : A dirty Fae Series

I am Bloody Bones. You may have heard of me. Centuries ago, when me and my brother roamed the lush, green countryside of Britain, there were stories about us, but even then, we were little more than legend. Tales told by parents beside candlelight to make their unruly children behave. We were Rawhead and Bloody Bones. The monsters that hid under your stairs, ready to spirit away naughty children and feast on their bones. Like most myths and legends, our story was based partly in truth. We weren’t human. We had never been human. But neither were we the monsters that people made us out to be. There was something sad and unbelievably lonely about being the only two creatures in existence that looked like us. Not human. Not quite fae. We were something new, something different. And like anything different, we were feared because of it, by humans and monsters alike. Shunned and made outcasts, we clung together. And we became cruel. We started to relish in the fear that entered people’s voices when they spoke about us. We gave up fighting for our humanity. We stopped trying to fit in. It was only the two of us, Rawhead and Bloody Bones, so interlinked in the darkest recesses of human minds that we became one entity. They spoke our name only in whispers. And we were okay with that. Or at least, I thought we were. I was. I never knew the pain and anguish my brother felt. Although I should have guessed. It was never that we didn’t feel the emotions of humans, more the fact that we felt them too strongly. Love and hate became so entangled, it was impossible to know where one ended and the other began. I didn’t know my brother was suffering until it was too late. Until he was gone. For the first time in a millennium, I found myself utterly and truly by myself. I am Bloody Bones. And I am alone.