They say that when the famine came around every ten years the poorest would send their younger children out to the marshlands "in search of object/person/important thing" with only a small lantern and nowhere near enough oil to last them the trip but just enough to get them lost.
The marshlands were unstable during the day and by night they became death traps full of flammable gas pockets, pathways vanished by the tidal flow and water deep enough that three men could stand on each others shoulders and still be nowhere near the surface among many other dangers that meant the children never stood a chance.
It was said that the poorest children, the unbaptised or born out of wedlock (the most susceptible to death in older days filled with superstition and fervent religious belief) wouldn't die when they were sent out. These ones in particular were favoured the most by the more unusual creatures and mythologies of the area. Their misfortunes in life changed them to something more than human instead of the deaths that came swiftly to their socially declared betters.
In short, they became marsh-spirits whose tiny bodies were bent and conjoined to whatever should have ended them. The drowned ones became pale as fresh snow and just as cold, their little faces floating eerily among the weeds and fish deep below the murky marshwater, barely illuminated by sunlight.
The ones that curled up under trees, too desperate for warmth to notice the sinking ground often became bumps and sudden drops in the paths. They tried to catch other children out - it was like a game to them, a game of catch that ended up with more marsh children being born.
Most commonly, the ones who found other bodies and took the remnants of their oil, the ones who got to the heart of the marshlands before sunrise, their tiny shivering bodies barely visible save for the small light held so close to their faces that their cheeks became burnt. They became wanderers, floating above the paths, sometimes shaking so violently they appeared to be caught in seizures. They were the ones who chased children deeper into the marshes, down into the lakes and under the trees.
They were as much the creators of the marsh children as their parents before them.
The marshlands were unstable during the day and by night they became death traps full of flammable gas pockets, pathways vanished by the tidal flow and water deep enough that three men could stand on each others shoulders and still be nowhere near the surface among many other dangers that meant the children never stood a chance.
It was said that the poorest children, the unbaptised or born out of wedlock (the most susceptible to death in older days filled with superstition and fervent religious belief) wouldn't die when they were sent out. These ones in particular were favoured the most by the more unusual creatures and mythologies of the area. Their misfortunes in life changed them to something more than human instead of the deaths that came swiftly to their socially declared betters.
In short, they became marsh-spirits whose tiny bodies were bent and conjoined to whatever should have ended them. The drowned ones became pale as fresh snow and just as cold, their little faces floating eerily among the weeds and fish deep below the murky marshwater, barely illuminated by sunlight.
The ones that curled up under trees, too desperate for warmth to notice the sinking ground often became bumps and sudden drops in the paths. They tried to catch other children out - it was like a game to them, a game of catch that ended up with more marsh children being born.
Most commonly, the ones who found other bodies and took the remnants of their oil, the ones who got to the heart of the marshlands before sunrise, their tiny shivering bodies barely visible save for the small light held so close to their faces that their cheeks became burnt. They became wanderers, floating above the paths, sometimes shaking so violently they appeared to be caught in seizures. They were the ones who chased children deeper into the marshes, down into the lakes and under the trees.
They were as much the creators of the marsh children as their parents before them.
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