(WP) Little Orphan Monsters

(WP) Little Orphan Monsters

               When she’d spent years studying the dark arts, particularly necromancy, she’d made grand plans. World domination. Being worshipped as a dark goddess, with the power to raise the dead at her command.

               But it turned out that the universe had a wicked sense of humor, because she was able to raise the dead, all right.

               But the god she’d summoned had sensed her nurturing abilities, left over from when she’d been human, centuries ago. He’d given her the responsibility of raising young vampires, ghouls, ghosts and goblins. He’d been more than generous; a building had been procured for them, and no one wanted for anything.

               Except for her. This wasn’t what she’d pictured when she had finally acquired her powers, after years of planning and practice.

               Even the thought made her feel ungrateful, and her mouth twisted as if she’d bitten into a sour lemon.

               What did it mean, if you were a woman and you didn’t wish to dedicate your life to caretaking, to raising the next generation of monsters?

               It seemed, in all society, that you were nothing if you bucked against its expectations. No matter if you belonged in the world of humans or monsters.

               The unfairness of it all was enough to make her scream.

               But for now, she had an orphanage to run; she could complain to the man in a far-off dimension later. She got the coffee-pot going. Even as old as she was, she couldn’t go without caffeine. If she were still mortal, it would be a problem worthy of intervention.

               Already, the children were awake. Most of them slept during the day, being nocturnal creatures, but there was an odd bunch of kids that preferred to frolic in the daytime, and so, Rouge was constantly on the clock.

               Of course, there were some people that had been recruited by her master in order to help her with her workload, but it didn’t help that numbers were climbing every day.

               It wasn’t that this servant was ungrateful, blind to all her master had done for her.

               She was just overwhelmed.

               “Miss Rouge, ma’am!” A voice cried, flying into the kitchen as she waited for her coffee to brew. “Matteo hit me!” The child was literally flying; he hovered above her slightly, beating his little bat wings, crimson eyes narrowed with dislike.

               A little goblin followed in his wake, stomping into the kitchen. He was so tiny that he barely reached Rouge’s waist.

               “I did not! All I wanted was a turn with the little toy car and he’s had it forever!” Matteo whined, the words coming thick from behind his sharp, serrated teeth. “Why can’t I have a turn?”

               “Boys, boys,” Rouge murmured, instinctively going into mothering mode.

               “Why don’t you guys find something that you can do together? You could read a book. Or watch a movie, or play a game… You could play hide and seek.”

               Both of the boys were appeased by a game of hide and seek and a snack: a cup of blood for Heath and some jerky, and a fresh human heart for Matteo.

               A mother’s work was never done.