When she was but a little girl, a Turkish child’s grandmother told her all the stories of the dark things which dwelt under the water. “We live near the ocean, my child, and so you must know of these stories. The dark things may come for you, and you must even be prepared for this.” Thus her grandmother taught the young girl all the games she knew. The Turkish girl learned to play chess, go, and the game of carved bones.

Time passed, as it is wont to do, and the old woman died (as old women will do), and the Turkish girl grew up. Despite or perhaps because of her grandmother’s stories, she always lived near the ocean. And one night when the moon was new and the stars were clouded, one of the dark things came up from the depths.

It came in through the windows, for the dark things are unhindered by any fluids (even such as glass itself). Dark things move without a sound, and so it would have crept up on the Turkish girl, but she had never ceased her habit of stringing the windows with silver chimes.

She awoke to their gentle notes and heard the sound of breathing that also sounded like a river flowing, and she knew the dark things had come. Quick as a glint in an eye, she was out of the bed and, barefoot, she set the game board before her bed. The Turkish girl listened for the tread of heavy limbs on the stairs, but did not let it distract her from the task at hand, as she arranged the pieces of carved bones.

She sat crosslegged on the bed, the game board between her and the door to her bedroom, as the latch clicked and the door swung inwards. The dark thing stood in silhouette, its features shrouded, its outline jagged and malformed.

The Turkish girl did not flinch, but merely presented the carved bones to the dark thing with a gesture of her hand. It stood there for many minutes before, with that same sound of a running river, it shambled to the board and sat.

They played for hours, the Turkish girl and the dark thing. Her hands were pale. It had either too many fingers, or too few, or claws that faced backwards - she could never say for sure. But she matched its every move, never once letting it win, yet never finishing the game herself. Then dawn’s veil began to gray the sky, and the dark thing made a noise of distress.

“Ahh, dark thing, our game is not finished. Come, wait out the day in my closet, and we will finish it tonight.” Thus the dark thing hid itself away in the Turkish girl’s closet.

For three more nights they played the game of carved bones. For three days and nights, Turkish delight did not sleep, and did not lose. At last, just before dawn on the third night, she brought the game to a close.

The dark thing was weak and frail now, and its strange sound of running water seemed to cough and spit. Still, it spoke, and its voice was strong. “Our game is over, but I see I have become too weak to steal you away. Please, shelter me for one more night. I will trouble you no more, and I will grant you a favor for each night’s prior boon.”

Now, the Turkish girl had been told how the dark things would bargain, and though she wished to ask for many things, she heeded her grandmother’s advice. “Very well, dark thing. You may have another night’s sanctuary here, and these are the favors I ask of you. You will protect from harm this house, and all who dwell within it. You will watch over and guard my children, and their children, and their children’s children. And you will never again drag men to the depths of the ocean, for the last favor you do me is the most important of all: from this day on you shall do only good.”

The dark thing shuddered, but dawn’s rosy gaze already graced the sky. It had no choice but to agree.

And so from that day forth, the dark thing lived in the house of the Turkish girl, guarding her and her family, and when they were no more, it went into the world of men and did good forever after.