VESSEL - Extinction Countdown 962: Green Children Enigma

In the eleventh century, hunters in Woolpit, Suffolk, Britain, found two children huddled outside a cave—a boy and a girl.

Their skin was green, their eyes black, their clothes woven from unfamiliar fabric.

They spoke an unknown tongue and refused all offered food. Days later, the green siblings nearly starved until someone brought beans torn from stalks.

The children ate eagerly, later accepting baptism at the local church.

Sadly, the boy weakened and died soon after. The girl learned basic English and survived.

From her words, the siblings came from Saint-Martin, a land of green-skinned people ringed by a vast river—perhaps an island.

Saint-Martin had no sun, but light glowed from the river’s end. How they reached Woolpit was stranger still.

The girl said they’d herded sheep into an unfamiliar cave. Emerging, the sun’s harsh light overwhelmed them, and they fainted, waking in Woolpit.

The girl stayed with Sir Richard Kahn, then served a knight’s household, reportedly marrying and living well.

This event, recorded in Suffolk’s chronicles, had many witnesses, including gentry and clergy.

Yi Qing finished the strange tale. You Long’er giggled, teasing Vanilla: “I hear green folks turn that way from eating too much cilantro!”

Vanilla spat out her cilantro in a panic.

Ye Shisan mused: “Yellow, black, white skin—sure. Green? Maybe a gene mutation?”

Yi Qing smiled. “There’s more. Listen.”

Seven centuries later, in August 1887, over two thousand kilometers away in Banjos, Spain, green children appeared—a boy and a girl.

The same pattern unfolded: unknown language, odd fabric, refusing most food.

The boy died quickly, but the girl survived, learning Spanish.

She too spoke of Saint-Martin, a sunless land of green-skinned people.

Her story turned sad. She fell ill and died in 1892, five years later.

A striking detail: portable cameras, invented decades earlier, captured her only photograph—proof she existed in this world.

Ye Shisan caught on: “Yi Qing, you mean our world crossed with Saint-Martin at different times, and those kids were in a spacetime overlap!”

Yi Qing nodded, adding: “Different times, parallel spaces, or divergent worlds—no one’s sure. But humanity’s unsolved mysteries are endless, like your wall-walker case.”

“Poor Fang Qiong died badly. The asylum claimed he fell to hush it up. He was my roommate—I saw it! I get why they lied. It’s an asylum; suicides happen yearly. Who’d believe a patient?”

“Ye Shisan, it’s me, Yi Qing—anyone else would think your madness never healed!” Yi Qing teased.

Close in age, Yi Qing, an Fireseed veteran, and Ye Shisan, asylum-hardened for twenty years, clicked. They swapped tales, while You Long’er and Vanilla listened, treating it like a spooky story hour.

As streetlights flickered on, the table’s feast vanished.

Per Ye Shisan’s plan, they’d leave that night, packing only emergency food, water, medicine, clothes, and essentials, leaving the rest in the shop.

Ye Shisan had grumbled about wasting rent, urging You Long’er to cancel the lease. But she flashed the property deed—she’d bought the building outright. It must be said that the happiness of the wealthy is indeed beyond what the poor can imagine.

Yi Qing backed the car to the door. They loaded the trunk.

Amid the bustle, a taxi screeched up. A drunken man in a suit stumbled out, tossing bills at the driver, then retched by a lamppost, a sour stench spreading.

“Yikes, Qiang, what a mess!”

He Dali rushed from A-Qiang’s Game Parlor, hauling the drunk—He Qiang—up.

At the parlor’s door, Li Fang, in her wheelchair, cursed: “Let him drink! Drink ‘til he’s dead! That little wretch blows off work the moment he’s got cash! Secretary Hu called—I lied he was sick, took a day off! That’s hundreds in wages gone! Useless!”

He Dali glared: “Old hag, shut it! Qiang’s out there working!”

“Working? You old fool, look at your spawn! Chasing women, maybe!”

The couple bickered as He Dali dragged He Qiang inside.

He Qiang, sloshed, spotted the women loading the car. Yi Qing, bending to pick something up, looked striking from behind.

Lust-driven, he shoved He Dali aside and lunged at her: “Gorgeous, I’m dying for you!”