Congratulations to the first place winner of the Spooky Story contest announced in our last print issue! McKenna Cary’s “Revenge of the Yirledev” is a thrilling, chilling tale worth the read. Read McKenna’s first place entry below.
Revenge of the Yirledev
Across the street appeared a flicker of light as Sir Allan’s neighbor returned home, but the rasping form did not resemble any human he had ever seen. It was hunched over, and lurched with a jerky gait that screamed monster. But it was unlike the dragons Sir Allan had fought before. This seemed spooky and otherworldly. He went closer, drawing his sword, but as soon as he reached the lamplight cast by his neighbor’s window, the creature vanished with a whisper of chilling wind.
Sir Allan swung carefully around, for though he was brave, he was cautious. “Who’s out there? Friend or foe?”
No answer came from the depths of the night. Sir Allan entered his hut, still holding his sword, but he relaxed as his black, three-legged cat, Chivalry, scampered from the shadows with a plaintive meow.
“Ah, you want your dinner.” He got some bread and broke part off for her before eating his portion. Chivalry had come to him a few weeks before, with a bleeding stump of a leg. He healed her and found a best friend.
That night, as Sir Allan lay in bed, he heard screeching noises sounding like a demonic animal. He jumped out of bed and raced to the window, sword drawn. In the light cast by the pearly moon, he saw the monster again, still unclear. All he could tell was it was humanlike and had long, black hair flowing down its hunched back. Before he could move, it disappeared again.
Sir Allan moaned, “This wraith’s haunting me!” Chivalry batted at his ankles, seeking attention. “Okay, you can sleep on my bed, just this once.”
She pounced onto his pallet and contentedly lay in the middle. “Move over, silly!” Sir Allan laughed, lying down.
The next morning dawned clear and bright, with not a monster to be seen. Sir Allan spent his day belaboring miscreants and setting snares, which he did often. By the time the sun was setting, he was thoroughly exhausted and lay down to sleep as soon as he’d eaten.
The loud shrieking noise woke him again. Drawing his sword, he leapt up and raced for the door. The creature outside began to lurch away, but he pursued it, over the hills and the village stream. The monster stayed ahead as they started up a hill and Sir Allan had to work hard to catch his breath. Then, he suddenly plunged off a cliff, barely able to grab the crumbling embankment. He hung there as the mutilated, yet graceful figure floated over from where it had lured him off the mountain. It was missing a leg and used a cane, explaining the lurching.
Then, he saw its face and gasped. “You!”
The Yirledev, or medieval she-demon, leaned closer and hissed, “You know me. I lost this leg in your hunting snare. I will have revenge!”
Sir Allan lost his grip, and fell to his demise. A black, three-legged cat walked
triumphantly into the bushes.
