Chapter Text
Ever since that old manor house just North of the village had burned down, Simon's little brother had been terrified. Apparently some of the kids at his primary school had thought it would be funny to start spreading rumours - some shit about a disfigured kid locked up in the basement, now roaming the marshes in search of food. And apparently he was happy enough to eat any people who wandered too far into the bog.
Now, normally, this wouldn't matter much to Simon. Schoolyard rumours spread like wildfire, everybody knew that. The kids would tire themselves out eventually, and come up with another bogeyman to scare one another with. That was just the way of things. The problem in this case, however, was the effect that it had on his brother, Henry: Almost every night since Monday he'd had a nightmare, which of course warranted him going into Simon's room to seek comfort. That was fine on its own, but Simon was already stressed enough with his recent move to a new high school, and sleep deprivation was something that he preferably wanted to avoid.
And so it was that an ever-so-slightly hare-brained idea came to him one day; he'd venture out into the marshes with a camera and record his journey, to prove that there was nothing out there. It was an objectively terrible idea, but Simon knew well enough that his brother would believe him to try it. That's why, one Saturday in late November, Simon packed a rucksack with some food, a torch and some batteries, called to his family that he'd be back before it got dark, and set off.
It was surprisingly nice to begin with, wandering off away from civilisation and being completely alone apart from the sound of the wind. Waters lapping calmly at the riverbanks, frogs croaking and dragonflies buzzing. It was unusually late in the year for any of them to be about, but who was he to complain? He strolled along well trod footpaths and across rickety old bridges, relaxing to the rustling of the few leaves. He'd not had the chance to do this in a while, what with the flurry of activity that had been happening back at home.
Unfortunately the peace didn't last all that long; it was about half past three in the afternoon that Simon realised he was last. Something about the rising water level from the tides had thrown him off. Worse still, the sun was setting, and the ground was getting far too muddy for his liking. There was no doubt that the water would probably give him hypothermia if he was in it for too long, and he was far enough away from home that it could be a long time before anybody found him to help out. He grabbed a branch from a nearby bush to try and steady himself on the mud. At least he'd been smart enough to wear his wellies.
Two hours later, and he had made no progress. In fact, he was still hopelessly lost, and the sun had completely set. The torch barely lit up the space in front of him, and he only just managed to avoid losing his footing. Of course, he'd managed to land himself in a spot where there was absolutely no signal for his mobile, and there was no chance any boats would come past at this time of night. He had two options: Push On, or Hunker Down.
He chose the former, not wanting to imagine causing his little brother any stress with continued absence. The back of his mind told him it was the wrong thing to do, but he never had been one to think things out.
The moon was just bright enough to partially illuminate the water all around him, and cast shadows of all the reeds and spindly trees that managed to anchor themselves to the river sides. Every now and again Simon would swear that he saw something off above the water, a bright light dancing and drawing him in. Maybe he should have paid more attention to all those stories about Will O' The Wisps.
After another tentative half an hour, though, Simon caught a whiff of hope, quite literally. The smell of smoke could only mean one thing: civilisation. He breathed a large sigh of relief, and headed in as close to the direction as he could manage, speeding up ever so slightly as he went. He was sure that he'd see lights any second no-
The water was bitterly cold. Biting. Mud grasped at his feet, dragging him into the darkness as plants wrapped themselves around his legs. He thrashed, unsure whether it was helping but unable to stop himself from panicking. He tried to open his eyes, get a sense of direction, but they were immediately filled with kicked up silt and forced shut once again.
Terror set in when he realised he was going to drown.
He was too numb to register the hand that grabbed his collar and wrench him out of the water. Too paralysed with fear to resist as he was dragged across the marsh by his saviour. Too cold to shy from the warmth of the fire that he was brought to. It took him at least ten minutes to register that he was alive and out of the water, jolting up and looking about himself.
He was in some sort of ruin, burnt wooden beams and brickwork forming a vague approximation of a room. A plastic tarp acted as a makeshift roof, and a scant few personal effects scattered salvaged furniture. Leaning against one wall was somebody who he could only assume was the person who he could only assume had helped him.
They were wearing a hood and long sleeves, a pair of gloves covering their hands. When they seemed to notice that Simon had gained back some semblance of awareness, they raised a hand, in some unsure mix of a wave and a placating gesture.
"Hi. I'm Earl."
"Simon." He replied through gritted teeth, inching slightly closer to the fire to try and keep from shivering. It barely worked. "Thanks for the help." He added after a moment, and the person, Earl, waved him off.
"Anyone would have done that. Must say, silly of you to be out here to begin with." Earl commented, earning himself a raised eyebrow from Simon.
"Isn't that a bit hypocritical?"
Despite his obscured face, Simon could tell that Earl had deadpanned. "I live out here." Well, that explained the furnishings. Although as far as he knew there weren't any houses out here aside from the old manor, and that had burnt down just a couple of weeks ago.
Wait.
The cogs turned in his brain as he glanced back upwards at the burnt timber, then back down to Earl as he out the pieces together. That explained it.
Earl accompanied Simon home later that night once the tide had gone out and the ground was a bit more solid. Apparently he had no idea that he'd become a schoolyard rumour, but he didn't seem to have any objections to it.
Overall, he seemed quite friendly. He was around Simon's age, and aside from some odd maneurisms he was relatively unmistakable from anybody else. Despite the curiosity that gnawed at him, Simon didn't press for details of the fire, and any time the subject of conversation even threatened to get close Earl diverted it to something else.
They left eachother at just after midnight, outside of Simon's front door, with a few bits of food exchanged and a promise to keep in touch. Earl disappeared into the night like he was made of it, and Simon settled into bed.
Only for his brother to come wandering into his bedroom, teary-eyed and clutching a teddy.
He'd forgotten anout that problem.