Hero scooped up his brother, "It's time to go home, say goodbye to mamma."

Markus turned and waved to the grave, still cheerful. Hero didn't understand, how could his brother stay so happy and naïve when his mother passed away?Hero sighed and walked away. Markus turned and trotted after him, "Where's pappa?"

His brother looked away, "We'll see him soon, don't worry." Hopefully, he added silently.

Markus pouted. Hero's eyes softened at the sweet childish look of his brother. He smiled and reassured him, "I'll prepare mushroom stew for you when we get home, okay?"

Markus immediately brightened up and hugged his brother, "Yay! Thanks, big brother!"

○

Hero set the bowl upon Markus,"¹Matt är redo! Ät upp."

Markus gave him a weird look. He stuck his tongue out, "²Jag är inte bra än."

Hero snickered, sticking his tongue back out. Markus just dove in the stew, Hero chuckling softly. The ten-year-old is quite mature for someone his age. He has lots of skill and intelligence too. Being close to his mother, she taught him brilliant things no one else at school could. Like how to sew, how to cook, how to care for tiny cuts, how to style hair up nicely and many other lessons.

Hero raised his head and stared out the window, What is pappa doing? I hope he comes back soon. I don't want him to be sad.

While Hero was thinking, Markus had finished and walked away to clean the dishes that were left in the sink. He got up to the tiny stool for him to reach the faucet. As soon as Markus was done, he happily handed the bowl to his brother. Hero proceeded to dry them and put them back in their respective cupboards. Markus then just played around on the kitchen floor, not wanting to leave his brother alone. He also started a conversation. The awkward topic were horses.

Hero smiled as he put away the last bowl, "Yes, I have seen a horse."

Markus's eyes brightened and he exclaimed, "Really?! That's so cool! Are they big? Are any of them yellow? I really like the color yellow. It's my favorite color. What is your favorite color? Is it yellow? I hope it's yellow."

Hero hummed and replied to all the questions patiently. They were big, not as far as he knows, his favorite colors were red and blue, no it was unfortunately not yellow... Hero laughed and turned around to announce, "Markie, it's time to go to bed. Come on."

He snatched up his brother from the floor and walked upstairs.

"But brother, read me a story!" cried Markus, tugging on his brother's collar. The older male nodded and promised him, receiving a long dragged 'yay'.

○

Markus snuggled under the bed, Hero picked a book from the shelf and sat next to his brother. He read the title in a gentle tone and flipped the hard cover, each word was read beautifully and Markus giggled at the thought of how his brother sounded and acted a lot like his late mother. Hero had paused, looking through this book he had never seen before. It did not have an author, but there was a note written in Finnish at the back. His mother was Finnish, so Finnish had been his first language, followed by Swedish from his father, and lastly English.

He gulped as he finished reading through and turned to his brother. "It's a little scary. Do you want something different?"

Markus frowned. He shook his head and said, "No! I can handle it, I'm a ³stor kille."

Hero laughed, "Alright."

The Night Raven

There was once a little boy who had delivered some of his mother's freshly baked cookies to his sick aunt, but most of them never reached her. On his way home the boy saw something black crash to the ground further down the road. He walked up to it and discovered a crow with a broken wing.

"Help me," cawed the crow.

The boy did not like helping animals, or people for that matter.

"What's in it for me?" the boy asked.

"If I can stay with you for three nights and be nursed back to health, you shall have three gifts," the crow replied.

The boy liked the sound of that, and brought the bird home with him. Having carefully hidden it in the winter storage, the boy went to bed, thinking only of his presents.

As soon as the sun rose, the boy rushed out to the crow.

"Where's my gift?" the boy asked.

The crow twitched and out of its beak came a little tin soldier.

"I already have a dozen of tin soldiers. Tomorrow I shall have something nicer," the boy proclaimed.

"That you shall," said the bird.

When the sun rose on the second morning the boy visited the bird.

"Where's my gift?" the boy asked.

The crow struggled to breathe, as it coughed up a wooden doll.

"Dolls are for girls! Tomorrow I shall have something nicer."

"That you shall," the bird said.

At dawn on the last morning the boy ran out to the crow.

"Where's my gift?" the boy asked.

The crow was in great pain as it coughed up a locomotive.

"This train has no tracks, and can't take me anywhere! Tomorrow I shall have something nicer."

"Three nights have passed, and tomorrow you shall have nothing," the bird said.

The boy got angry, took the crow in his hands and squeezed it hard. There appeared to be something left inside it!

"Something big and wonderful," the boy thought, and squeezed with all his might.

Indeed was it big, but it was not wonderful. A giant terrifying raven appeared before the boy's eyes.

The boy screamed, but before anyone could hear his cries for help the horrifying bird had eaten him alive, leaving only his bones behind.

Hero closed the book as he read the last sentence. The short Finnish note at the back had said 'Like the Raven Angel'. It was odd and a little spooky. He turned and looked at his brother. The book was absolutely terrifying to him. It was weird. A children's book that had death? Extreme.

Markus cocked his head. "Huh?"

His brother looked away, "Just be grateful for what we have, ja?"

Markus tilted his head in confusion. The older male put the book away and gently kissed his brother's forehead and whispered, "Goodnight, Markie."

He stood, turned and gave a warm smile and switched the light off before leaving the room.

All mimicking his mother's actions.

Hero went to his own room to read a book quietly. He didn't want to sleep just in case his father comes late.

Knock knock.

☆

Translations:

1. Swedish: Food is ready! Eat up.

2. Swedish: I'm not good yet.
(Implying how he was still learning his Swedish.)

3. Swedish: -big boy.

The bedtime story was taken from Year Walk, a haunting game based on Swedish folklore. It's called 'Bedtime Stories for Awful Children'.