#anastasia orlova | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

akoumi · 3 years ago

Photo

MWAD FOLKLORE - 4/?

ANASTASIA AND THE BONE KING.

This story is a little longer than the last one, and, quite a little more macabre. Do you still want to hear it? Well, then, listen closely…

A long, long time ago, there was a poor little village. Most of the villagers were farmers, and they made just enough to get by. Summers were warm, and crops grew well, but the winters were harsh and bitter like they are in this country. But the villagers banded together, worked hard to keep each other warm and fed, and so they survived year after year.

But early one autumn, a stranger came to their village. He was tall and gaunt and dressed in all black. Not a single inch of skin showed - he wore a cloak, boots, gloves, and even his face was hidden by a black mask fashioned into the likeness of a skull. He had a mournful air about him, something melancholy, that many of the girls and boys took a shine to. They said he had lost a lover, that he was unbearably handsome under that mask of his, that he wore it to ward off anyone who might want a taste while he grieved for what he had lost. Some of the villagers said there was an unsavory air around him, the stink of rot and death that they smelled. They said that when he passed by, he was always accompanied by a cold breeze, and the sound of autumn turning to winter.

He did not give them his name. Instead he introduced himself to the villagers as the Bone King, and he said that he had come in search of a partner for himself. He said that he wanted someone beautiful to look at, someone who was a good dancer. They would come to live with him in his mansion miles to the north for a little bit, and if he was satisfied with them, he would wed them. Their family would receive money, food, cloth, anything they wanted.

At this proposal, even the villagers who were wary of him fell over themselves trying to find a pretty youth to give to him. First in line was Mila Federova. She was a gorgeous young thing, with hair as black as the night sky and lips redder than the apples she was fond of. They brushed her hair until it shone, they pinched her cheeks until she blushed pink, they dressed her in a white-and-gold gown, and then they sent her off to the Bone King.

For a little while, the villagers were happy, gossiping about the fun she must be having, dancing and eating with who was undoubtedly a very handsome young man.

And then, the Bone King returned, as sorrowful as ever, without Mila. She hadn’t been who he was looking for, he explained sadly. She hadn’t been able to dance. So he had returned, looking for another suitor. The villagers were puzzled - Mila had always been light on her feet. And where was she now? But the Bone King simply said that she had not been the one.

The next one to go was Frederik Aslanov, with curly hair the color of wheat and gray eyes that flashed just like a summer storm. Just like with Mila, they brushed his hair and pinched his cheeks and dressed him up in his best clothes and sent him right off.

For a little while, the villagers were happy. They gossiped about what fun he must be having, in the grand palace of the Bone King.

And then, the Bone King returned, as morose as ever, without Frederik. He hadn’t been who he was looking for, he explained sadly. He hadn’t been able to dance. So he had returned, looking for another suitor. The villagers were puzzled - Frederik had always been nimble. And where was he now? But the Bone King simply said that he had not done enough.

The third youth to be chosen was Irina Petrova. She had lustrous chestnut hair, several shades of red and orange and gold, and perfect white teeth. Just like with Mila and Frederik, they brushed her hair and pinched her cheeks and dressed her up and sent her off.

For a little while, the villagers were happy. They gossiped about the fun she must be having, wandering the gardens and endless riches of the black-masked man.

And then, the Bone King returned, as desolate as ever, without Irina. She hadn’t been who he was looking for, he explained sadly. She hadn’t been able to dance. So he had returned, looking for another suitor. The villagers were puzzled - Irina had always moved like water in a spring stream. And where was she now? But the Bone King simply said she had failed. He asked for a new young man or woman to take home - but no one wanted to go with him. They were afraid of him. They saw the skull on his mask rather than speculate about how handsome of a face might lay under it.

The Bone King did not argue. He simply bowed his head and departed. That night, Lev Antonov’s entire field of corn withered and died. The next day, he came back, asking for a new youth to take home. The villagers refused.

The Bone King did not argue. He simply bowed his head and departed. That night, Marina Orlova’s entire herd of cows died. The next day, he came back, asking for a new youth to take home. The villagers refused.

The Bone King did not argue. He simply bowed his head and departed. That night, Maxim Kusnetsov’s four children died. Every single one of them. The next day, he came back, asking for a new youth to take home.

And this time, a young woman named Anastasia Morozova volunteered. She could not sit by any more, watching her village waste away. She was not quite as handsome as Mila or Frederik, or Irina, and she could not dance as well as they could, but she looked at herself in the mirror and decided she was enough.

Her parents did not want her to go, and the villagers did not believe that the Bone King would want her. So she brushed her own brown hair, she pinched her own cheeks, she pulled on her least worm-eaten gown, and set off to find the Bone King.

Before long, she stopped in front of the doors of the Bone King’s enormous black mansion, and she knocked - once, twice, thrice. The doors opened, and there he stood. But he was not happy with her.

“You are not beautiful,” he said, but Anastasia simply squared her shoulders.

“How can you say that when I have never seen your face at all?” she asked back. The Bone King paused, and then he nodded.

“Come in, and dance with me.”

And so he led her inside. It was a great mansion, but on the inside, there was nothing at all. No servants, no furniture, no paintings. The hall was bleak and empty. And in the corner, Anastasia saw three bodies.

The Bone King took off his cloak. He took off his boots. He took off his gloves. Under those, there was no skin. No skin, no flesh, no blood. Just bones. And finally, he took off his skull mask. He was nothing more than bones under there, little one. A grinning skull, with empty hollows for eyes.

“Now that I have taken off my shoes,” he said, as slow and doleful as ever. “Please do me the favor of taking yours off as well. It is only polite.”

And so Anastasia did, and they began to dance. He was a good dancer, and they danced on and on and on, until Anastasia’s feet were sore. But she did not stop. They danced on and on and on, until her legs began to hurt. But she did not stop. They danced on and on and on, until her feet began to bleed. But she did not stop, not even as her blood coated the stone floor.

But she slipped then, and Anastasia fell to the floor. The Bone King stopped, and shook his head. He said that she was not the dancer he was looking for. Anastasia looked back at the bodies, and she saw the open bloody sores on their feet, and she realized that the Bone King had danced them to death. They hadn’t slipped - no, they were too good for that. They had danced and danced and danced until their bodies gave out.

The Bone King did not want her anymore. So she hobbled back home, feet wounded. When she got back to her village, the villagers were relieved to see her - but no one would go the next day. So Anastasia bandaged up her feet and waited for the next sunrise - and then she went again to the Bone King.

“I will dance again,” she said. “I will dance again.”

The Bone King was not happy to see her for the second time, but there was no one else, and she insisted on dancing. And so they danced again. They did not stop, even as Anastasia’s feet became sore. They did not stop, even as her legs burned. They did not stop, even as her bandages unraveled and her feet began to bleed again.

And once again, Anastasia slipped, and the dance stopped. Once again, she was sent home. Once again, she bandaged up her feet and waited for the next sunrise. And once again, she returned, saying that she was that day’s bride and that she would dance again.

This continued on for six days and six nights. Anastasia would arrive at his palace in the morning, dance until she slipped, and then go home, only to bandage her feet and wait for the next day to come.

On the seventh morning, when she arrived, the Bone King examined her. He was tired of this game, and he said, “Today will be the last time we do this. If you slip and fall, you forfeit your life.”

Anastasia did not think it was fair that it was only her who had this kind of deal, and she told him so. “Very well. But only if I make a deal with you as well. If I slip and fall, I forfeit my life. But if you make a mistake, then you will leave this village and never return. Find your bride elsewhere.”

The Bone King considered that for a long moment, and then he agreed to that. And so, for the seventh time, the dance began. They danced on and on and on. Even as Anastasia’s feet became sore, she did not stop. They danced on and on and on. Even as Anastasia’s legs began to hurt, she did not stop. They danced on and on and on. And even as her bandages unraveled and her feet began to bleed, Anastasia did not stop. She did not stop even as the tiles grew wet with her blood. She did not stop even as she felt her flesh rub against the stone of the floor.

Soon, she began to see the rays of the dawn touch the horizon, and Anastasia wondered if she would be able to dance until sunrise and finally win. But then, just as the sunlight began to warm the empty mansion, Anastasia slipped on her own blood, and fell to the ground - but to her absolute shock, so did her partner. He had slipped on the blood as well and fallen to the floor, skull cracking against the stone.

For a moment, the only sound was Anastasia’s breathing. She did not know what would happen next. She had fallen. But so had he. The silence stretched on so long that Anastasia wondered if he would ever say anything.

Finally, the Bone King sat up. “You have fallen,” he said finally, as forlorn as ever. “But so have I. So I will not take your life. But every winter, I will return. I shall not ask for a partner to take home, but I will ask for a partner to dance with. For seven days and seven nights, we will dance. And then I will take my leave again.”

And so he did. He left, his mansion disappearing with him, and Anastasia hobbled back home for the seventh time. Her village was overjoyed to find out that she was alive, to find out that the Bone King had left, to find out that they were safe once more.

The Bone King kept his promise. The next winter, the youths of the town had their hair brushed and their cheeks pinched and their finest clothes washed, and there they danced for seven days and seven nights with the Bone King, taking turns so he would always have a partner. They did it the next winter, and the next, and the next.

Nowadays, no one expects you to dance for seven days and seven nights. But a few hours of dancing will not kill you, and the last thing you want is to anger the Bone King. Now, sweet dreams, young one. We have a busy day ahead of us tomorrow.

#writeblr #worldbuilding #original writing #wip: mwad #mwad lore #mwad folklore #slavic fantasy #russian fantasy #omg....TWO posts in TWO days?#what is going on...

49 notes · View notes