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"Woo, spooky outside. Let's go make a bonfire, this is a great night for just such an occasion!"
"No." The kids stopped staring out the front window and turned to their tall, stern grandfather, his dark eyes peering out of a deeply wrinkled brow lined with wisdom and a great bushy beard that flowed to his chest. He shooed them away from the window and drew the curtains, making sure no light got in or out. "Not tonight. Tonight is the witching hour. Tonight is the night fairies dance in the woods."
The brother and sister looked at each other and smirked. "Fairies?" the sister laughed. "Grandpa, if you were trying to scare us, couldn't you have picked something like, I dunno, zombies or vampires?"
"Or werewolves," the brother suggested. "They're cool. Big fangs and claws and fur."
"Do not mock," the grandfather intoned, pointing his craggy finger at them and they silenced immediately. He glanced around the room, quickly double-locking the door, then turned and tossed more wood on the fire. He went into the kitchen, opened a drawer, and pulled out silverware. "Fairies are allergic to silver, so keep this on you for safety."
"Grandpa, fairies aren't scary," the brother insisted. "They're little women with wings, how is that scary?"
"That is a cartoon!" the grandfather barked. He lay cloves of garlic and sprigs of wolfsbane on the windowsill before pulling the curtains shut. "Fair folk, they are called," the grandfather whispered, sitting by the fire. "Not very fair actually. They are not little, but big, taller than the tallest man. They creep into your house, coming under the cracks of the floorboards and under the doors, slinking through shadow as we slink through air. Manipulative and menacing, they snatch babes from cradles and leave behind their own perverted offspring. Changelings they call them, looking like the babe they took but not right. Ugly, disgusting, ill-tempered. They rearrange the forest paths, leading the unwary deeper and deeper into their forbidden kingdoms. Mushrooms spring where they dance, ensnaring hapless souls, dragging them down into their underworld kingdom, to do God only knows what to them. They feed on the blood of the innocent and prey on children most of all. Do not mock them, for they love that people don't believe in them anymore, makes it easier to go about their wicked ways!"
"I thought if you said you don't believe in fairies, a fairy dies," the sister whispered.
"Said by someone who either has no idea or is in league with them, spreading lies to cover their plots." The grandfather paused, glancing towards the closed curtains, and both children turned stone still, hearing the hooting of an owl, only for it to suddenly stop. Not even a cricket chirped. "They're here. Outside, right now." The children hugged each other despite their disbelief. "Taller than a man, but slicker than oil. If they see you, they will catch you, so cling to your silver, it may be all that saves your life! Saves your SOUL!"