M.A. Melby's Blog, page 2

The Tomboy Testimonial

The Tomboy Testimonial: A constant litany of cis women talking about how they were tomboys who cut their hair and watched football and are now happy adult human females who are so very, very thankful that they didn’t have the choice to transition.

These enrage on so many levels – let me count the ways.

First, of course, they make the assumption that being trans is about hobbies, likes and dislikes, interests, favorite color, tendency to climb trees, etc. Bullshit. I have met NO trans person who has ever said that was *fundamental* to their experience. It’s nonsense.

They are motivated to write these in such a way that it mimics some things that trans people actually do talk about – and it makes you wonder if they are being entirely sincere or not – like saying they considered that they might be a boy, which could have been a passing thought.

They also assume that they would have been encouraged to transition by – who knows who! And imply that “these days” they would have been diagnosed with gender dysphoria in a clinical setting and offered medical interventions. Also, generally, bullshit.

But beyond the fact that these testimonials offer myths by throwing out unrealistic hypotheticals. They are also sometimes deeply disturbing, in that they imply that trans men are victims of internalized misogyny – that they are people who hate themselves because society hates women.

The vast majority of these testimonials are women going on about climbing trees and watching sports when they were kids – as if that’s super strange for girls to do or something (give me a break) – and then asserting their womanhood boldly and saying they were always a GIRL! Which has NOTHING to do with being trans, what-so-ever.

But every once in a while, I see something else.

Every once in a while a few things they say – between insipidly talking about toy trucks, haircuts, and playing in the mud – make me consider they might actually be trans. Then, my perspective changes, and I wonder if this is a story about their sense of self being systematically torn down by being told that who they are is wrong.

Maybe this isn’t some silly weird flex by a cis woman about wearing jeans and riding bikes, but that this person’s testimony is about being very grateful that they were saved from sinful ideas and that they are happy now – normal now – cured, and that destroying a part of themselves that wasn’t acceptable, as they were told to do, was successful.

That they “love themselves” now.

This is also, bullshit.

I don’t know what’s worse – being ridiculous about what being trans even MEANS and the sexist nonsense most of these are (Going fishing when you were ten doesn’t make you “boyish” much less a boy – sorry.) or the fucking horrifying conversion therapy vibes that I get from these every once in awhile.

I grew up in the 80’s. I remember the testimonials of ex-gays – about their journey to healing: turning away from self injury, spiritual sickness and unhealthy lifestyles, how happy they are now with their wife and kids.

They also claimed to be grateful for being saved and cured – spared.

Make no mistake – the REASON for these testimonials is to convince trans boys and men that they aren’t boys and men, but self-hating girls and women who are going through a phase, that their feelings are not real or are the result of trauma, that transition is morally wrong, and that the cure to their supposed affliction is learning to “love themselves” – by, you know, denying who they know themselves to be.

That’s the point.

And it’s bullshit.

My Convo With Dave re: “cutting kids”.

So, I had a twitter conversation with Dave Silverman, who was once the President of American Atheists. It started because I called him out on retweeting Gays Against Groomers. Then I addressed one of the claims by GAG about “sterilizing kids” and a conversation started. So, here is my reply to his reply. His words are in italics.

So the issue is cutting kids who call themselves trans. If we are going to cut kids, I think we would both agree that we’d better be right. Nobody wants to deform a kid detrimentally. If I were to support cutting kids, I would need good data,

No, the issue is not “cutting kids who call themselves trans” nor is this about wanting to “deform” a kid. The fact that you are using emotive language to describe surgery and hormone therapy is a great rhetorical tactic if you want to inflame people who don’t know any better, but when you use it while pretending that you’re having a genuine serious discussion, you tell on yourself.

Also, we aren’t talking about surgery on any kid that “calls themselves trans”. We are talking about surgeries that are very seldom done on minors and generally only offered to minors with dysphoria concerning that part of the body. Some of these young people are so desperate for top surgery, for example, that not facilitating the surgery may result in self-injury. We are not remotely talking about any kid who calls themselves trans, and obviously so. Again, you’re letting me know that you are not serious nor genuine.

To get data on treatment, any treatment at all, we need to actually administer the treatment and analyze the results. If, for example, top surgery didn’t alleviate dysphoria, we would be less inclined to offer top surgery to young people – but it does.

Such as: What % of kids who say they are trans at 5, 10, and 15 years old stay trans for the next decade? That’s question 1 because its obvious and super basic. What % of kids change their minds?

Everything we do know points to low retranstition rates, very low desistance rates after the onset of puberty (around 10 to 13 years old before any medical intervention is generally offered), and consistently low regret rates for surgeries. (All of these are different groups by the way.) However, because we are talking about a very small population (as opposed to the population who smokes for example) our best data is necessarily going to have low sample sizes.

Do you suggest that anyone with a rare condition simply not be treated because we don’t have studies with N = several thousand? Of course not. That’s patently ridiculous, but for some reason, this standard is applied to trans related care. Why?

You can tell bullshit medical argument pretty easily – it’s exactly how anti-vaxxers operate. They will point to flaws in studies (or simply lack of perfect data) but never actually positively support their own position. Instead, they argue that since everything we currently know isn’t perfect – that THEY are magically correct. That’s not how reality works.

If we weren’t seeing the results that we are currently seeing, there would be a change of course. The vehement arguments against allowing gender related care are nearly always hypothetical – not real.

When I ask the question I am deluged by people sending stories from adult trans people who knew they were trans as children. This is bad data; it is anecdotal, and it does not predict. What percentage of the population do these people represent? 1%, 50%, or 99%? They seem to imply that their anecdotal evidence implies that 100% of kids develop like they did. That’s bogus.

I see what you did there. You mentioned that trans adults often say that they knew they were trans when they were younger and many of them who were denied transition and denied care talk about how traumatic that was.

But then you put words in their mouths, that they supposedly think everyone’s experience is the same – creating a strawman that you then easily argued against. Good show! You are good at this. Yes, a study about trans people who were denied care would be interesting. I know many people who would be likely interested in participating in such a study.  

What we need is long term quantitative data answering the direct question: what % of trans kids stay trans? Good data for this monumentally important question does not exist. It’s obtainable – we could design the study and implement it today and get some real insight where we need it, but that would be considered “Anti trans” and has never been published, ever. Ironically, cancel culture is preventing the research that would prove leftists right (or wrong) from being conducted. You will never ever find good data answering this vital question, so we have to err on not cutting kids.

This is bizarre. This is very much a studied question that involves many public papers that you could just google and find easily. For example, a study that recently came out, that found about 2.5% of youth that socially transitioned changed their treatment course. Or studies showing that youth who transition and are supported by family and friends have similar wellbeing as their cisgender peers and that trans people often suffer from minority stress.

If you are talking about desistance studies that were done a long time ago by conversion therapists that pathologized gender nonconformity generally and considered psychologically torturing boys until they hated their mothers and were violent as “success” – yes – most reasonable people don’t take those studies seriously and tend to refer to the more recently studies that have better methodology and were conducted under the current DSM.

You mentioned suicide. Nobody wants kids to kill themselves of course and the common presumption is that kids need to be transitioned as fast as possible to prevent teen suicide. The problem is there is no good data linking trans surgery with a reduction in suicide. Like the gray shirts, its assumption. In order to cut kids, we would need a study comparing the suicide rates of 1000 kids, ALL IN EQUALLY SUPPORTIVE SITUATIONS, only some get transitioned and some do not, and look at the suicide results. THIS would show the marginal cause and effect you all seem to think is absolute. In fact, we don’t know that transitioning kids reduces suicide AT ALL. Without that good data supporting the idea that transitioning kids reduces suicide by x%, we need to admit we are rushing to trans kids on assumption only, so don’t cut kids. Once again, good data for this monumentally important question does not exist.

What on god’s green earth are you talking about? Just in case you don’t bother clicking on any of my links here you go:

“In this prospective cohort of 104 TNB youths aged 13 to 20 years, receipt of gender-affirming care, including puberty blockers and gender-affirming hormones, was associated with 60% lower odds of moderate or severe depression and 73% lower odds of suicidality over a 12-month follow-up.”

It’s obtainable – we could design the study and implement it today and get some real insight where we need it, but that would be considered “Anti trans” and has never been published, ever. Ironically, cancel culture is preventing the research that would prove leftists right (or wrong) from being conducted. You will never ever find good data answering this vital question, so we have to err on not cutting kids.

Here you are again with the “cutting kids” and hypothetical cancel culture bullshit rhetoric – I know “ex woke” is your brand – but come the fuck on. You’re spouting conspiratorial crap.

But it’s true. There are studies that will not be done because it is unethical to do so. You sound exactly like anti-vaxxers who insisted that we do some sort of double-blind study where we randomize a sample of kids to NOT VACCINATE. Those studies will never be done because it is highly unethical to deny life-saving care to people in order to get “good data”. Even when you point to a study where their concerns are addressed in some way – they always respond – NOT GOOD ENOUGH.

Is there any study that we could actually conceivably perform that would convince you not to deny care to people in need of it? I mean, you just suggested we create a group of trans kids to deny care to and see how many of them kill themselves and you think you’re the reasonable one here. Because that is the ONLY way we could get the “good data” that you are insisting on.

You’re being ethically repulsive which I know isn’t actually a sin in your circles – but you are also being stupid and scientifically illiterate.

I know – you requested “no bluster” – but a spade is a spade.

While we are talking about assumptions, How can we tell the difference between a budding 13 year old butch lesbian from a trans man? Lesbians are women, of course, and at that age they look and indeed ARE identical to trans men. No psychologist, parent, or kid in the world can tell the difference. If we had some way to predict with a high degree of certainty which kids were future trans and which were bull dykes, I’d be more supportive of transitioning kids. But there is no data, anywhere, at all. Zero. So don’t cut kids.

They aren’t the same, at all. One refers to sexual orientation and one refers to gender identity. Those two things are not the same. Now, if you are referring to a “tomboy” and a trans boy. They are also different. One refers to things like clothes and interests, and one refers to gender identity.

Under previous versions of the DSM, gender nonconformity was confused with being trans because all types of gender nonconformity were pathologized and thought to require treatment – which, at the time, referred to conversion therapy.

This is no longer the case. And it’s been trans activists who have been often on the forefront of this change, insisting that their identities are not contingent on performing gendered stereotypes. It was once very common for trans women (for example) to glam-up for their doctor’s appointments to secure care. It was pretty ridiculous.

There is also this idea, historically, that all trans people should be on ONE medical path to a “successful” transition. This is also something trans activists have generally fought against, unlike your straw man earlier, most reasonable people realize that their experiences are not the same as everyone else’s. Not everyone is the same and therefore shouldn’t be pushed to make all the same personal decisions. For example, trans activists generally support “Self ID” which doesn’t place restrictions on gender marker changes – such as sterilization – which used to be a requirement in many countries and in some places, I suspect still is.

A side note: I am repulsed by the way the Left treats detransitioners, who are the direct victims of the Left’s use of bad data. These people are maligned and dismissed, where they should be comforted and supported and YES – paraded in front of would be transitioners as a cautionary tale to stem future regret! Duh? But instead, detransitioners are hidden and never shown to prospects. Why not? Is the intent here to help trans kids, or to trans as many kids as possible, irrelevant of their best interests?

For a long time, the only ex-trans speaker or writer anyone could find was Walt Heyer. His work was everywhere and if someone mentioned an article by an ex-trans person I would joke – is it Walt Heyer? Now there are about half a dozen or so folks who are on the same political circuit. The problem folks have with these particular individuals is not that they detransitioned or that they are discussing their detransition, but due to the political machine that they have decided to become a part of.

I am personal friends with a detransitioner and someone who has surgery regret. Neither of them is remotely against access to transition related care. The machine that has politicized those types of experiences has done extreme harm, not just to trans people in need of care and acceptance, but to detransitioners and people who have surgery regret or complications associated with surgery or hormones; because their experiences (even very much against their will) are latched onto by the anti-trans political machine and weaponized against their community.

What is also ironic and sad, is that some detransitioners require gender affirming care. They are fighting against their own interests in a very real visceral way, and in the process hurting a great many people, the vast majority, who benefit greatly from transition and transition related care being accessible.

I am not going to imply intention, but IF that were the case – IF there was some kind of mass conspiracy to trans kids irrelevant of what’s good for them, then the oppression of good data, the use of bad data instead (all of which supports immediate transitioning), and the hiding of detransitioners would all obviously be a part of that. This is what such a wild conspiracy or mass delusion would look like. The fact is, and I can’t state this plainly enough, that you don’t have the data you think you have. You have 100% bad data masquerading as predictive good data which supports transitioning. You have literally zero data on the important issues: What % of kids who say they are trans actually become trans adults? What % of trans adults are happy 10 years after transitioning as kids? What is the difference between a butch lesbain and a trans man at 13 years old? By what percentage will transitioning kids reduce suicide? You have zero good data. Literally zero.

You frankly sound unhinged. I’m the one linking studies and sources, you have insinuations, strawman arguments, and JAQing off.

Please feel free to prove me wrong. You won’t. So you MUST NOT cut kids! Which brings me, finally, back to the question at hand. I’m well versed in statistics. Most are not. But doctors ARE! They read reports every day regarding quantitative research on procedures and new medicines. They know and understand well that everything I have written here is true. And they are cutting children anyway, for money. All the pain suffered by detransitioners, everywhere, past, present and future, rests in the hands of those who operate on kids knowing there is no good data supporting the idea that they are not harming them. Doctors know they are potentially doing harm to kids for money. Prison. For a very long time. Thanks

You’re suggesting we get “good data” about the efficacy of a treatment by putting people in jail for administering that treatment. Very logical.

There is also one more thing I want to address. The idea that somehow there is this push to rush young people into treatment. There is a rush – but that rush is to administer blockers. Blockers stop unwanted changes in puberty and give the young person more time to consider their options for the future. The whole point of blockers is to give young people time – it is the opposite of “rush”.

Denying this care in a timely way often has lasting effects for the rest of their life. You talk about “cutting kids” but would deny them the chance to not require top surgery in the future. You would deny a young boy to be tall and have a deep voice and force him to grow breasts. You would impose facial hair and a deep voice on a girl.

That’s where your implied naturalistic fallacy comes in. You are assuming that forcing those changes on someone is neutral. It’s not.

I see the compassion for the few people who regret transition related care, but somehow, in “gender critical” circles, that compassion is never extended to trans kids that are denied care.

Why? Because their pain is considered correct, natural, better, imposed by God – they just have to suffer because someone else might make a mistake.

They have to suffer because their suffering hasn’t been “adequately studied”.

Dave. I get it. You were doing quite well in your career until things went to shit and the only way to continue was to buy-in to the whole IDW “I’ve been canceled” wave of nonsense. But for fuck’s sake, you’re constantly retweeting GAG – who is a virulently anti-LGBTQ hate group. They often forward information that is incorrect and incendiary and created specifically to harm others – my community.

And you’re using the same anti-science rhetorical tactics as anti-vaxxers and YEC – you do know what you’re doing. Right? Or are you so far gone that you aren’t even aware?

Compromise

The story starts here.

“Then, that’s what we should do. Lafe’s safety is more important than those things. I just…I just wanted one to be comfortable. One is my guardian now. It’s only right.”

“One?” she asked.

“That’s the respectful way to refer to me,” you explained. “I’m Kyn.”

“But are you a man or…”

“It’s rude to ask,” Forban interjected quickly. “One is my parent. One is one.”

“That’s another thing. If this situation gets out of control, the guardianship will be contested. That’s his next move.”

“We can’t let that happen,” you said resolutely. “Under no circumstances can we let that happen. Your father will kill him. You know that, don’t you?”

She looked nervously at both of you. It was difficult to read her expression. Did she believe that Forban should be killed? Did she think that was for the best? What was going through her mind?

“…or die trying,” you added pointedly.

“I don’t wish either of you harm,” she said defensively. “I’m scared. I’m scared for my father and my family. The situation needs to be resolved.”

“I agree. For everyone’s sake, we’ll compromise,” you said as you looked over at Forban to make sure you were in agreement.

Forban nodded.

“Good. Good,” young mistress Gannon said, sounding relieved. “I’ll do everything I can to assure your safety and comfort. I’ll convince my father to be reasonable, but this needs to end.”

“Has you father told anyone else what’s happened to his nephew?” you asked.

“One of his body guards was telling everyone, but nobody believed him and my father sent him away.”

“It’s probably best that others don’t know,” you said. “We don’t want panic. We don’t want anyone else to get hurt.”

“Then help me end this,” she said in earnest.

“I will. You can tell your father that.”

The next week was tense, but you were able to negotiate a compromise that allowed Mister Gannon to save face. At first, you believed that Mister Gannon would sell off the assets to recoup the money he relinquished to you, but he didn’t.

Instead, his daughter built a relatively modest home on the estate and set up a business trading seeds, herbs, and various plants. She worked with the central government to erect a memorial to those who died in the fires. It was inaccurate to what had actually happened. It became a symbol of imperials and locals cooperating for the common good.

Eventually, everyone who knew the truth let it be forgotten.

Forban continued to change into a magnificent creature, but kept his mind and his resolve to maintain peace. You taught him well.

Despite her father’s protests, his daughter remained at the estate and married a local.

She continued to visit Forban and her fear of him subsided.

Slowly, she gained your trust, and you began cultivating the medicinal plants that the Kyn Order were known for, teaching her what you knew and helping her grow her business. She became family.

One day, when you were in town buying supplies, a child came up to you and asked, “Are you Kyn?”

You smiled and nodded. “One is one.”

“I think…I think I am one.”

“If you think you are one, you are one,” you answered smiling.

“What do I do? Do I climb the stone stairs?” one asked. “Can you teach me?”

“That depends, can you keep a secret?”

One nodded.

“My child protects us,” you whispered in one’s ear, “and we protect him.”

The Beginning

Stay steadfast

The story starts here.

“No deal,” you responded angrily. “Forban is the rightful heir, not your father, not you.”

“It was my family who died. I’m alive. The estate is mine,” Forban agreed. “I’ll make the decisions.”

“You’re a demon,” she responded. She looked around at both of you nervously. “With respect, see reason.”

“I’m done giving up what’s mine!” you yelled. “Enough is enough!”

“This isn’t about the estate, is it?” she asked you, realization crossing her face. “This is about locals and imperials.”

“Get out,” you commanded sharply.

“Cousin? Is this really what you want?” she asked, looking toward the young master.

“Am I your cousin, or am I a demon who shouldn’t have a name?” Forban asked.

“I don’t know. You frighten me. This whole situation frightens me,” she admitted. “I don’t want my family to share the same fate as yours. For the sake of peace…”

“Peace?” you spat, your eyes growing wild. “I am sick, to death, of imperials invoking peace when what they really mean is surrender. I’m sick of it!”

“You should leave,” Forban told her. “Lafe is my family now.”

“I’ll do what I can to help resolve this, but please, please be reasonable,” she pleaded.

“I’m done being reasonable.”

“That’s becoming clear,” she said, finding her voice. “I’m sympathetic to what you…”

“You have no idea!” you seethed. “Do you? I tried. I tried! I tried to be reasonable. I was willing to sacrifice my life for peace, but that wasn’t enough for you! That wasn’t enough!”

“What are you talking about?” she asked, confused. “What does this have to do with the estate or my father, or my cousin?”

“The central government had one’s child killed,” Forban explained. “Lafe’s wife and child were killed.”

“Why?” she asked, incredulously. “Are you sure this person is telling you the truth? Are you sure you aren’t being manipulated, to use your power, to gain your wealth?”

“I said leave!” You took a step forward and held up your knife.

She took a step back, looked to the young master again, for a moment, and then ran off.

You placed your knife back under your pillow and started to sob. It was all too much.

“Tutor, you don’t have to fight, if you don’t want to. We can survive without the money. I just wish…I wish I could comfort you. I know what it’s like to be angry and sad. I wish I were a normal boy.”

“If you were a normal boy, you would have died,” you said, looking up from your tears. “So, I’m glad you aren’t a normal boy. I’m not losing another child. I can’t bear it.”

“You said what happens to the estate was up to me. If giving Mister Gannon something will make him go away, just give it to him.”

“I don’t want him to win.”

“I know, but I’ve made my decision.”

You nodded. Forban was right, you had to keep your head. There was another meeting with the magistrate in two days. You could make a few token concessions then. If that what’s Forban wanted, that’s what you were going to do.

The rest of the day, you tried to keep your intrusive thoughts at bay. You made breakfast, you tended the gardens, you tried to figure out how Forban’s cousin picked the lock so easily and tried to figure out a solution.

Forban went hunting for rabbits, but found a flock of turkeys instead, ate a few, and brought one home for you. You spent a good portion of the day butchering it carefully. Forban was getting good at boiling water for you and starting fires safely.

In the evening, you read from a book of poetry. Even though it wasn’t nearly as impressive as it once was, the Kyn library was growing.

“Winter is a frozen spring,” you read. “Summer does not spring from death, but hidden life. Cycles are not broken segmented gestures, but eternal paths upon which we travel.”

“But what does fire do?” Forban asked. “Where does it fit in?”

“Fire is life itself,” you answered. “The sun is fire. Without the warmth of fire, there would be no life.”

“Am I like the sun?”

You started laughing. “You are my son.”

“I am!”

“Good night, Forban.” You set down the book.

“Good night, Lafe.”

You woke to a cacophony of bells, shattering glass, and broken timber. You reached for your knife but before you could find it there was a boot on your arm.

You looked up to see a stranger, a young man, wearing a uniform, pointing a flint-lock at your chest. The arm that held the gun was shaking.

“For peace,” the young man muttered under his breath, in a likely attempt to convince himself to pull the trigger.

“You should run! Run!” you yelled at the boy standing over you before a second, older man walked up to you and casually took the shot. It felt like a dull heavy push followed by a searing pain.

“You’re all…you’re all going…” You coughed and struggled to make sound as blood filled your lungs. “…to burn.”

You saw the young master appear behind the men that had come to kill you. He was bright and beautiful, with red glowing skin, black horns growing out of his head like ebony saplings, long hungry fangs, and wide wild eyes.

At first, the men appeared in silhouette against the light at their backs, and then they broke into hundreds of tiny luminous embers.

You could feel warmth so profound that it lifted all of the pain of your wounds away. You felt light, content, joyous.

You smiled as you died and your son was reborn.

The End

Get angry

The story starts here.

“Who am I to tell you what to do!” you yelled more loudly, ignoring Forban’s plea for you to calm yourself. “Mister Gannon, have you considered, perhaps, that I have reached my limit?”

“Are you threatening me?”

“I am Kyn. We are standing on our most sacred ground. When I ask you to leave, you leave.”

“Are you going to make me?” he asked laughing.

“Do you know who else I am?” you asked, through gritted teeth.

“No, but you’re going to tell me, aren’t you?”

“What are you doing?” Forban asked, sounding alarmed. “I thought…”

“I can’t handle it anymore,” you interrupted as your face contorted. “There is only so much indignity I can stomach.”

“Indignity? We pulled your people up from squaller. We united the tiny nation states that were killing each other over petty resources. We brought you roads and…”

“Uncle, you need to be quiet now,” Forban begged.

“What has she…he…it told you, nephew? What has this thing filled your head with? The central government saved these people from themselves, at great cost. We opened up trade routes and opportunities to better themselves. And how did they repay us? They killed my brother – your father! Have you forgotten that already? They burned the estate! Are you going to take their side now?”

“I…but…” Forban stuttered.

“Mister Gannon,” you continued. “Forban was never part of your family. He was never loved or taken care of by any of you. My child was. My child was loved!”

“What are you talking about? How dare you?”

“I didn’t finish introducing myself. I’m Lafe, Kyn Scholar. My wife was the second royal daughter. Her name was Mika and I miss her very much. We had a child together and the imperials executed our child for no other reason than because of who her mother was.”

“What does that have to do with me?”

“Mister Gannon, don’t you understand? I’m the rightful leader of this nation. Me!” you said beating your chest with your fist. “I’m the one who chose peace. The people who attacked the estate were rebelling against me. Me!”

“What’s this nonsense?”

“Think about it, Mister Gannon. Take as much time as you need. I’m the one holding them back and you are testing my resolve. I considered just give you what you want, but that’s what I do. Isn’t it? I give and I give and I sacrifice…everything…for the greater good but you still want more!”

“My family’s estate is not yours to take.”

“How about this deal? You leave with your life or you die here.”

“Tutor?” Forban exclaimed. “Please.”

“What happens to the estate is Forban’s decision, but what happens to you is mine and I asked you to leave.”

“I should have you executed as an insurrectionist,” Mister Gannon said, letting his fear show around the edges of his voice.

“Do anything to harm me, and the whole nation will erupt in rebellion. Do anything to harm my son, and I will make you suffer.”

“I don’t believe your empty threats. I think you’re a liar and a thief. I’ve had enough of this. I’m turning you in to the central government authority,” he said as he lunged forward to grab your arm.

Forban took one step toward Mister Gannon, causing his uncle to recoil quickly and let go. Forban took another step, causing his uncle to run away and descend the stone steps.

Once you calmed down you looked over at Forban, who was still shaken. “I made a mistake,” you muttered quietly. “I shouldn’t have angered your uncle.”

“I don’t want to give him the estate. You are caring for me, so you should have it. All of it.”

“You were willing to give it up before. Why did you change your mind?”

“Because you refused to leave me. Because my uncle disrespected you. Because you’re the only one alive who considers me a person and not some evil thing.”

“I may have set some things in motion that will be difficult to control.”

“What things?”

“The price for peace is never fully paid. I may have started a war.”

“I’ll protect you.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of. You’re a child, not a weapon. You’re my son. I should be protecting you, not the other way around.”

“Do you really think of me that way? As your son?”

“Yes. I do.”

“Well, for imperials it’s customary for men, even young men, to protect…” he paused, likely stopping himself from saying what immediately came to mind, “…others.”

You smiled. “I appreciate that inclination. I was unable to protect my wife and my child,” you said, trying not to break down. “So, I understand. I kept that letter to help me continue to live, to tell myself every day that they wouldn’t want me to join them, but the guilt of living is almost unbearable.”

“I feel very little for my family. Even the people I…I killed…I feel next to nothing now. Am I evil?”

“No. I refuse to believe that anyone is born evil. You aren’t responsible for what happened. There is no need to feel guilt.”

“But you feel guilty, shouldn’t I?”

“My guilt is worthless. It will never bring them back. Neither would yours.”

He nodded.

The legal battle lasted months and was made more challenging by the young master not being present. The magistrate was frustrated and confused that you and Mister Gannon refused to allow anyone to speak with him directly or even independently assess that he was alive.

Forban continued to slowly change. He became larger and his hands less able to write properly. Despite it all, he continued to be steadfast in his legal fight against his uncle.

At some point, representatives from the central government were called in and continued to clash with the insurance company. It was all very tense, and you were losing your taste for it.

Mister Gannon continued to insist that you were a thief in league with insurrectionists, but the central government representatives explained to him that there was no insurrection and that he should stop spreading dangerous rumors.

However, you were well aware that they likely believed every word he said. You added bells to the doors and windows of the chapel and both you and Forban slept there, for safety’s sake.

It would only be a matter of time, you thought, before they would attempt to fix the problem for good.

So, when the sound of a bell woke you early one morning, you were ready for a fight. You were wearing pants and a thick baggy shirt. You had a knife under your pillow, which you grabbed as you yelled for Forban to wake up.

“Forban! Someone’s here!” you shouted. “Show yourself! Explain yourself!”

“Oh gods! It’s true! The demon lives,” you heard a voice exclaim. Whoever it was, they sounded terrified.

You ran toward the door, holding your knife with the blade outward, “Who are you? Tell me now or I’ll…”

“Don’t hurt me,” the young woman pleaded as she walked into the chapel with her palms forward. “I’m Mister Gannon’s daughter.”

“Why are you here?”

“Is that…is that really my cousin?”

“You shouldn’t be here,” the young master said, uncurling himself from his nest on the stone stage.

“You speak?”

“Are you alone?” you asked.

“Yes,” she answered. “I was curious. The bodyguard told me about the demon…I didn’t believe…I thought he’d gone mad.”

“It’s true. I’ve changed,” Forban explained, trying to speak as quietly as he could. “But I’m…I’m still me. I can still think and talk and…”

“He’s not evil. He’s not dangerous,” you interject. “He’s different, but he’s still your cousin.”

“I’m seeing him with my own eyes, and I still can barely believe it. All the stories I’ve heard, they are truly horrifying. Murderous rampages. Whole cities in flames or flooded, shards of iron flying through the air, tearing through everything in their way, earth engulfing entire armies. Demons are the things of nightmares.”

“Just don’t…just don’t touch me. People who have touched me have…have died,” Forban explained. “I don’t want you to be hurt. Why did you come to the city at all?”

“My father didn’t want me to come, but I insisted because I wanted to save some of the trees and other plants that survived the fire. What really happened? What happened to my uncle’s family?”

“There was an insurgency,” you explained dispassionately. “They set fire to the estate buildings and murdered the family and staff. Forban only…”

“Who’s Forban?”

“Me,” Forban answered. “That’s my name.”

“You created a cursed name? This is…” she said, starting to become distraught. “This is wrong.”

“Forban began to change because of the fire,” you continued. “He was scared and angry, and he killed the insurrectionists. The central government is covering it up and I am inclined to allow them to.”

“You want them to cover it up? Then why are you fighting my father? He’s becoming very frustrated, calling in favors, making complaints…rumors are started to circulate widely. The whole Gannon family is in an uproar. You thought I was an assassin, didn’t you? This needs to end. Please, for everyone’s sake.”

“Tell your father that,” you said flatly.

“Even if he gives in, the rest of the family won’t. This is a matter of pride.”

“Pride,” you scoff. “Domination. Control.”

“It is what it is,” she said.

“What compromise will make this end?” Forban asked.

“I think, that the estate lands and holdings will satisfy my father, even if substantial liquid assets are sacrificed, because then, at least on paper, he would have won.”

“You mean, if we give all the land and other things to him, he would be willing to give us money? Money enough to live here?” Forban asked.

“I believe so.”

Stay steadfast

Compromise

Calm down

The story starts here.

You took a deep breath.

“We can be reasonable,” you finally said. “Leave us alone to live as we please and we’ll come to an agreement about the estate.”

“And what will you do if he becomes wild?” Mister Gannon asked.

You looked up at Mister Gannon smiling, as if he had made a joke. “Why do you care? Once you have the money, you’ll leave to wherever you came from. You needn’t concern yourself. Do you think for one moment that I believe you imperials care about the land where I was born or my people? All you care about are your investments.”

“Fine. Fine. I’ll take what’s mine and I’ll leave. Meet me tomorrow at the magistrate’s office and we’ll make arrangements.”

“I’ll be there.”

Once Mister Gannon was gone, Forban became very quiet and withdrawn. “Is that really what you think of us? Is that really what you think of imperials?”

“I have a right to be bitter, Forban, but I’m sorry if I offended you.”

“Do I have a right to be bitter? Tutor? My family may not have been kind to me, but I lost them. I lost them all. Locals did that and I don’t understand why.”

“Your family lived in one of the first imperial buildings constructed on our land. It’s where the occupying soldiers were housed and fed. Do you think I didn’t consider, in moments of weakness, setting it aflame myself?”

“Were the soldiers…”

“You don’t want to know, Forban,” you interrupted. “The truth of things…is unpleasant.”

“I was told there was very little fighting. I was told that casualties were…”

“Forban! Be quiet.”

“Do you intend to keep me ignorant, Tutor?”

After a long pause, you blurted out, “They took bets and then stripped us in the streets.”

“They did what?”

“Is it a man or a woman? Let’s find out.”

“They…they did what?”

“They took what they wanted because they could,” you explained pointedly. “That’s what power can do. You have become powerful. Don’t allow that power to make you cruel. Power is not dangerous. Cruelty is.”

“Yes, Tutor.”

“Now, let’s decide what we are going to offer your uncle so that he leaves as quickly as possible.”

Your son nodded.

The next day you arrived at the magistrate, with all the necessary papers, and waited. He wasn’t there, so you asked around to see if you could find him. Someone suggested that they had left.

You were confused, until a disturbing thought crossed your mind, and you started running.

“Forban,” you said under your breath. “Son.”

You became winded quickly and stopped for a moment. While you were catching your breath, you looked up at the plateau to see smoke.

“No. No…no…”

By the time you were climbing the stone stairs, you were exhausted and pulling yourself up on all fours.

“Forban! Son!”

Once you crawled up to the top, you saw Forban laying on the ground with his back to you. Without thinking, you ran to him and put your arms around him, trying to find out if he was alright.

“Don’t, don’t touch me!” he yelled and moved away quickly. He looked terrified.

“What happened?” you asked, frantically looking around. There was smoke and flame coming from the far buildings and there were burned ruts in the grass around you.

“They came to kill me,” Forban said. “My uncle and his men. They tried to drown me in the stream. They tried to trick me. They said they just wanted to talk to me and that they were thirsty, but I remembered how you looked at my uncle when you said I needed to be protected. When I realized what they were trying to do, I…I was afraid.”

“Are they alive?” you asked.

“No.”

“You were defending yourself.”

“Yes.”

“Son,” you said looking down at your arms. “Promise me, you won’t be cruel. Promise me.”

“I was defending myself. They were trying to kill me!”

“I know. I know. I’m sorry I won’t…” You fell forward and blood poured out of your mouth. “…be there for you.” It became difficult to speak as liquid started filling your throat. “Son, don’t be cruel. Promise.”

“Lafe!”

You fell to the ground and couldn’t move. All you could see was blurry red spikes that used to be grass and all you could smell was soot and blood.

“I should have let them kill me,” you heard Forban sob. “I should have let them kill me.”

You wanted to respond but instead of words forming, your neck spasmed involuntarily for a moment, disturbing the pool of blood that had formed under your head.

“I promise…I promise…I promise I won’t be cruel,” Forban repeated, now crouched near you, looking down at your face. “Tutor, I’ll do well. You taught me well.”

“My beautiful child,” you said, unsure if your words were only in your mind or if you were actually making sound. “Choose life. Choose peace.”

Then you succumbed to the euphoria of your death.

The End

Stay with Forban

The story starts here.

“No. Forban, it is not a deal,” you insisted. “You aren’t a danger to me. I don’t believe it. If you are going to continue to change, someone should be with you, to help you, to protect you.”

“Protect me?”

“Yes, protect you,” you said, shooting a look at Mister Gannon. “You’re a child. Every child deserves protection and love.”

“Love?” Mister Gannon scoffed. “What sick nonsense is this? He’s my nephew.”

“And he chose to become my son and I accepted. Now, if this is about the money…”

“You think it’s only about money? Look at him!” Mister Gannon said gesturing toward the creature with red scales and black horns. “He’s not human.”

“Leave if you’re so afraid!” you shouted at him. “Leave with your body guards and leave with your money for all I care. Just leave!”

“Who are you to tell me what to do?”

“Who am I? Who am I!” you yelled angrily.

“Tutor. Calm down,” Forban warned, sounding afraid.

Get angry

Calm down

Agree to the deal

The story starts here.

“You’ll stay up here, away from everyone else,” Mister Gannon confirmed.

“Yes,” Forban confirmed, “I’m a monster, what else can I do?”

“You’re not…” you began to protest.

“Yes I am! Look at me! This is my fate. It doesn’t need to be yours. Tutor, I don’t want you to get hurt like my nanny did. She…she…and those people…I’m poison. My touch is death.”

You couldn’t lift your head. You stared at the ground in shame, and nodded.

“Are we agreed then?” Mister Gannon asked, getting up. “I would rather not stay here for too long.”

The young master’s uncle started walking down the stone steps and you reluctantly followed.

You looked back for a moment to see young master’s large eyes and quivering mouth. He was sad, but there was nothing to be done.

“I will visit you,” you called out to your son. “I’ll keep my distance, but I will visit you.”

“Good bye, Tutor.”

“Yes, you best keep an eye on him,” Mister Gannon whispered once you were well out of earshot of Forban. “If he becomes wild, the destruction…”

“Wild?”

“The stories about the demon children are frightening.”

“But he’s not like that.”

Mister Gannon whipped around, and put his face much too close to yours and looked at you intently, “How many people will have to die before you wake up?”

You felt a pressure in your chest as you were rendered speechless by the weight of what he had just said. You had to face facts. The young master was dangerous.

The bodyguard that had come with you disappeared. You didn’t encounter him on the way back to town and he was nowhere to be found.

Mister Gannon and you went to the magistrate to solidify an agreement that allowed you to occupy a room in one of the Gannon properties in town and provided you with a modest living allowance.

You were able to buy a few things and settle into the room that night. It was pleasant and comfortable.

After a couple of days you went back to the Kyn chapel to tell young master that things were going well, but he wasn’t there.

You searched the grounds wildly until you found him laying face down in the stream. He wasn’t moving.

He was dead.

You fell to your knees and started to sob. You thought, maybe he had become despondent; maybe he made an extreme decision considering his difficult situation. A part of you wondered if it was for the best, and you felt a deep guilt for allowing such a horrible thought to enter your mind.

Once you calmed yourself, you got up and started to walk toward the chapel, thinking that perhaps he had left a letter for you.

But then you saw, out of the corner of your eye, hidden behind some rocks and dirt, the charred remains of the bodyguard that had run away the moment he saw the young master. Apparently the man had returned and taken matters into his own hands.

You walked over to his body, kicked it so that it was on its back, and spat in his lifeless face.

“Monsters!” you screamed. “The imperials are monsters. We should have put you all in the ground the moment you showed your ugly faces, or all died taking as many of you with us as we could! We should have made you pay! Instead, we laid down like dogs for the sake of peace. No more!”

You pulled the young master’s body out of the stream, found a sharp knife, and cut him open. You’d seen it done before. The Kyn were invested in understanding nature and the body, of course they were. You dissected him expertly and precisely.

“I have an hypothesis,” you said as if you were speaking to the young master as his tutor, “and if I’m right…my anger will finally be satisfied. That rage inside me, that I’ve been pushing down for so long will finally be released.”

When you saw it, you started to laugh. Your educated guess was correct! The demon was a creature that found it’s way into humans under specific conditions.

How interesting!

How exciting!

“Hello, young master,” you said as a long, thin worm started to wrap around your finger. “Enter me and I will bathe you in fire. I will cultivate your power. We will become war.”

The End

Comply

The story starts here.

“You realize he’s cursed,” you said, straightening up. “That’s why he doesn’t come into town.”

“I simply want to see, for myself, if he’s alive and well.”

“Obviously, you care deeply for him,” you said sarcastically. “Of course, I’ll bring you to your beloved nephew, but our home is only accessible by foot.”

“Stay here and guard the carriage,” he told the man who refrained from hitting you. “You, with me,” he told the other one.

The men complied.

“Follow me,” you said and started walking down the main road.

“You’re not going to get away with this,” Mister Gannon said once you were far enough out of town to be out of earshot of the locals.

“Get away with what?” you asked without looked back.

“Stealing from our family.”

“I’ve done no such thing.”

“You expect me to believe that?”

“No, but do you want to know the truth? Do you want to know how your brother, his wife, their children, and the staff died?”

“A fire. A fire that, for all I know, you started.”

“An attack by insurrectionists,” you explained flatly. “Locals angry at the central government for what they did to us.”

“Nonsense.”

“They slaughtered your family and the entire staff.”

“So, that’s how you survived, because you were a local.”

“No, I survived because I quit.”

“How did the cursed boy survive then?”

“He burned all the insurrectionists alive.”

“Do you…You expect me to believe that?” he said with an odd timbre to his voice, as if he were trying to sound confident, but failing.

“No, I don’t expect you to believe anything I say, but you are family. You deserve to know the truth. I suspect you’ll leave us alone after today.”

“I’ll leave you alone when I’m given what’s mine.”

“You’re here for the money. I know that, but I don’t actually care about that. It was the young master’s idea for me to procure the estate. If it were up to me, I’d give it to you.”

“Liar.”

“I’m not motivated by those things. I’m not like you.”

“That’s the truth.”

You started up the stone stairs and called out the young master’s name. “Forban! We have visitors. Your uncle has come to see you.”

“The cursed don’t have names. Quit playing games!”

“He gave himself a name and he shared it with me,” you explained.

When you reached the plateau, Forban came bounding toward you on all fours with a huge smile on his face. Then, he sat down a safe distance away from where you were standing.

“My uncle?” he asked, his voice impossibly low due to his long neck. He smiled again, showing off his fangs and pointed teeth.

You looked back at Mister Gannon who was walking very slowly. His face was pale and he was speechless. The only word he managed to eek out was, “Demon.”

“Forban. My name is Forban. Lafe is my parent now. Did you know that it’s a local custom to adopt the children of your opponents instead of kill them?”

The bodyguard arrived on the top of the stairs shortly after Mister Gannon, but he quickly turned and ran away.

“You must not be paying your body guard enough,” you joked.

“Uncle, do you know what’s happening to me? It would seem that I’m not completely human. How is this possible? Do you know anything, Uncle? Lafe thinks that I’m like a butterfly or a tadpole. Am I going to continue to change?”

“Yes,” Mister Gannon answered.

“Wait! You know! Tell us everything,” you demanded.

“Fine, just don’t let it near me.”

“Do not disrespect my son,” you said, staring Master Gannon down. “Forban is a person, not a thing.”

“Your son? Fine. Don’t let him near me,” he said, rephrasing his statement as he sat down on the grass, shaking his head. “If the demon touches you, you’ll die horribly. If he gets angry, entire cities will burn. Why did you allow this to happen?”

“Allow?” Forban asked. “It just happened. There was fire all around me and that’s when I began to change. Was there a way of stopping this?”

“Drowning you at the first sign.”

“Drowning? Why didn’t they drown me when I was born then?” Forban asked accusingly. His booming voicing was uncomfortably loud.

“Because you could have been a water-demon not a fire-demon, so trying to drown you would have started the change. We couldn’t bury you because you could have been an earth-demon. We couldn’t stab you because you could have been an iron-demon. We couldn’t starve you or leave you to die in the elements because if you started to change as a baby, you would barely have enough sense not to destroy the world.”

“Why didn’t you tell me any of this?” Forban asked, now whimpering.

“Because we no longer believed those stories. We only believed them enough to be cautious. We know that some of the cursed carry illness. So, we avoid touching them and being around them. The stories of them changing seemed too strange to be true, but those stories were frightening enough that we avoided tempting fate by trying to kill them.”

“Why didn’t my mother die?”

“The mothers must develop some sort of immunity,” you suggested.

“But my twin brother, why wasn’t he immune?”

“I don’t know. I’m sorry,” you responded, trying to sound comforting.

“Understand, most of the cursed simply live their lives in isolation until they die,” Forban’s uncle continued. “Your father wanted you to learn so that you could do some sort of work, so that you wouldn’t simply waste away like the cursed usually do.”

“The nanny I had when I was little, she tried to run away with me. She said my parents were cruel. She held my hand and she hugged me. They told me she died of an illness in prison. Was that really because of me? Uncle! The locals don’t believe in curses. That’s why all my nannies and tutors were locals. My parents didn’t care if they died. I do! What if Lafe touches me? One is here with me all day. Will one die? Am I slowly killing Lafe?”

“I don’t know.”

“Lafe! Lafe, you have to leave. Let me live up here all by myself. I can catch rabbits with my bare hands now. I’ll be fine. Uncle! Uncle, make sure Lafe is taken care of…with food and books and all the things one likes and I’ll release the estate to you. Can you do that? Is it a deal?”

Stay with Forban

Agree to the deal

Touch him

The story starts here.

“I’m not sure if there is an answer to that question, but I do have an hypothesis I would like to test.”

“An hypothesis about what?”

“When the attack happen at the estate, how did you feel?”

“Feel? Terrified. Angry.”

“When that nanny you told me about took you, how did you feel?”

“Scared.”

“I’m thinking, what purpose would any creature have to be fatal to the touch? How would it help them survive?”

“Aren’t some frogs and insects poisonous?”

“Yes, but those are creatures that would be prey if they weren’t poisonous. You, for lack of a better term, are a predator, but not any sort of predator, a predator that is too large and too formidable to be concerned about becoming food.”

“That seems to be true,” the young master said licking his long tongue against his fangs.

“And you aren’t just poisonous to potential predators or prey, but to those tasked with caring for you, with the notable exception of your mother. How is that advantageous? Maybe it’s your fear that triggers your natural defenses.”

“But what about my brother?”

“Do you think being born isn’t frightening? Think about it? Why was your brother affected only at your birth and not during gestation?”

“I never thought of that.”

“And I’m in proximity to you, day after day. Touching the things you touch, walking where you walk. I’ve never felt any symptoms, not even a low fever or fatigue.”

“True.”

“How sad would it be, for both of us to shut ourselves off from the whole world because of a rumor? A lie?”

“Are you sure about this?”

“Yes. I’m prepared. I need to know. However, you have to be calm. Can you do that?”

“Calm?”

“Don’t be afraid, for me or for anything. Let me give you a hug like any parent should be able to give their child.”

“A hug?”

“May I?”

Even though he had changed so much, it was still easy to read his expression. He had been isolated and lonely for so long. He put his head down, he closed his eyes, and found his calm.

“I love you, son,” you said as you sat down beside him and lay your hand gently on his shoulders.

He made a purring sound.

You pressed your forehead against his, being careful not to get your hair caught in his horns. “You were never poison. You were never evil. You were scared and alone. I don’t want that for you anymore.”

“Do you feel alright? Are you really alright? You’re crying.”

“I’ve never felt such joy, not in a very long time. We could travel and do research, find out more about you. Maybe we’ll find other Kyn. Son, I want to show you the world.”

“I’d like that.”

The Beginning