> ## Content Index > Fetch the complete content index at: https://the-shagal.ghost.io/llms.txt > Use this file to discover other available public pages before exploring further. # Precious - URL: https://the-shagal.ghost.io/precious/ - Published: 2026-10-01T00:00:00.000Z - Updated: 2026-10-01T03:05:40.000Z - Description: For centuries, Vika has lived alone at the edge of the Desert Dys, where travelers vanish and the night keeps its secrets. Then, from impossibly far away, she hears the cry of a child. She does not know why it calls to her. She only knows that she must follow. - Author: Marc Faulk - Tags: Short Stories ![](https://storage.ghost.io/c/21/b7/21b7d236-2d58-4df4-be7a-3f48ee417ff3/content/images/2026/07/IMG_2011.jpeg) ## Hunger never sleeps An account concerning the Forgotten Far beyond the villages, where the sands of the Desert Dys swallowed roads beneath the watchful gaze of the Sisters, an oasis lay hidden among weathered stone. There lived Vika. She kept to the edge of the great desert, where caravans gathered before daring the crossing or emerged weary from it beneath the cover of night. Those who vanished were blamed on shifting dunes, cruel fortune, or the desert itself. Few imagined someone watched from the shelter of the palms, waiting patiently until exhaustion claimed its victims. For centuries, Vika endured. She did not hunt because she delighted in death. She hunted because the thirst always returned. No matter how long she resisted, it waited patiently within her. One night, a sound drifted across the dunes. A baby crying. Vika stood perfectly still. The cry came again. It was impossibly distant. Beyond the desert’s edge. Beyond the dark forest that bordered the sands. Beyond the scattered farms surrounding a quiet village. She did not understand why she could hear it. Nor why it stirred something deeper than hunger. Only that it called to her. Before reason could answer, she was already moving. She slipped from shadow to shadow beneath the cool night sky, crossing the forest with impossible speed. Moonlight touched her only in fleeting moments before she disappeared into darkness again. Every stand of trees concealed her passage. Every shadow welcomed her. Long before she reached the village… The crying stopped. Yet somehow… She still knew exactly where to go. The lonely cottage stood at the village’s outskirts, tucked between towering pines and open fields silvered by moonlight. A single candle glowed warmly through its window. Inside, a weary young couple struggled to calm their newborn daughter. Vika concealed her true nature before knocking. Color returned to her pale skin. Her sharpened teeth disappeared behind a gentle smile. Her eyes softened until nothing remained of the creature hidden beneath. The grateful parents welcomed the stranger without hesitation. She fetched water. Tended the fire. Rocked the child while the exhausted couple spoke of harvests, hopes, and the quiet joys of their new family. All the while… The thirst listened. As midnight settled over the cottage, the young mother rubbed her tired eyes. Vika smiled gently. “You both look exhausted,” she whispered. “Sleep.” The word settled over the room like warm rain. The mother’s eyes closed almost instantly. Her husband reached instinctively toward the cradle, but the strength left his arms before he could rise. Within moments, both lay peacefully asleep, their breathing slow and deep. Neither would wake until morning. Vika turned toward the cradle. The cottage seemed smaller now. Quieter. Only the tiny heartbeat of the child remained. The thirst surged within her. It had waited for this. Her gentle smile vanished. The illusion unraveled. Her skin paled until it seemed almost translucent beneath the moonlight. Dark veins spread beneath it like cracks through frozen glass. Her fingers lengthened into thin black claws, each ending in a razor-sharp point. Then came her face. Her jaw slowly stretched farther than any living creature’s should. Her lips parted into a smile impossibly wide. Rows of slender, needle-like teeth emerged where none should have fit. Her eyes became endless pools of black. She was no longer a woman. She was hunger wearing the memory of one. Slowly… Silently… She leaned over the cradle. The baby’s eyes opened. Vika expected fear. She expected screams. Instead… The child blinked once. Then smiled. A tiny hand reached upward, as though greeting someone familiar. The room became impossibly still. Vika froze. The baby saw everything. The claws. The endless teeth. The impossible face hovering above her. Yet there was no fear. Only wonder. The little fingers wrapped gently around one of Vika’s own. The thirst did not disappear. It screamed louder than ever. **Feed.** **Feed.** **Feed.** Beneath its endless hunger, another voice—one Vika had not heard in centuries—rose from somewhere she believed had long since died. **No.** With a cry that sounded almost like pain, she tore herself away from the cradle and stumbled backward. Moments later she vanished into the forest. By the time she reached the desert, only the wind remained to mark her passing. When the young couple awoke before dawn, the stranger was gone. Only the cradle remained. And their daughter, sleeping peacefully inside it, her tiny hand still curled as though holding someone who had already disappeared. Vika never returned to another home. She wandered the edge of the Desert Dys alone, hunting only those who willingly risked the crossing beneath the night sky. The thirst never left. It never weakened. Every night it whispered. Every night she answered it with silence. And sometimes, when the wind crossed the dunes just right, she thought she could still hear the laughter of a little girl… …the only person who had ever looked upon a monster and seen something worth reaching for. ---