Elfenflüstern

They came at night. When the moon was high up in the sky, silence was around, and all but little Jane were sleeping soundly. She laid in bed, wrapped in her golden nightdress, a garment, a silver too small, beautiful as a valley in the fall. Her eyes danced, searching the shadows for something that didn't use to be there before.

At first, they wouldn't do much—just crawl from under the bed and sit. They looked at her and smiled, whispering sweet nothing about how pretty she was or how nice she smelled. She could always see them, but barely from a creek where the blanket and mattress kissed.

Their eyes were like white orbs, with no pupils or iris. Only sclera full of veins, they shone like dim lanterns of the dead. They were small, about the height of her bed, with arms long enough to reach the floor, but their hands had to bend backward to make room for thin, sharp claws. Uneven pointed teeth were protruding under a malicious smile. Only noses that reached their chin occasionally broke it up. When the gentle rustle of fabric could be heard from underneath the bed, one only needed to count to three, and they would be there.

One night, before going to sleep, little Jane, with a hurried step and careful glance, nightdress rustling like the wind, sought her mother to confess her fear. She found her in the nursery, singing a sweet lullaby to the newborn baby brother.

"Mom… I can't sleep." Whispered the girl as she looked at the little one. Before he was born, the mother would come to sing for her every night, but then, in a grand caesura, silence replaced the music that had yet to resume playing.

Jane's presence was not acknowledged until the song ended. Mother looked at her daughter with tired eyes and sighed, "Oh Jane, why is it that you always take so much of my time? Why can't you put more effort in?"

"But!—"

"Hush!" whispered the mother. She dragged Jane out of the room by her little wrist. "Do you realize how difficult it was to put him to rest?! Why must you be so tiresome?"

Jane stared at her feet, grasping her nightdress with both hands.

"Come here now."

Struggling to keep up, Jane followed her mother to a dusty storage room filled with memories and forgotten artifacts. After pulling a broken mirror, a couple of fairy tale books, and a headless cherub, the object of desire was at hand - an old clock decorated with daisies and doves. Jane coughed when her mother blew a cloud of dust.

"If this long hand reaches that number and you're not sleeping yet, I will come and stay with you," the mother said as she placed the clock in Jane's arms.

"You promise?"

"I promise, hurry up now."

The little girl dragged her feet back to the room. She closed the door behind her but paused before turning off the light. With a grip on the clock so tight her fingers turned white, she recalled the previous night's events. They always came when it was dark; perhaps with the room still bright, the little ones would stay back. Jane sat on her bed, trying so very hard not to think about anything that might bring them back. Every tick seemed like an eternity, but she was full of certainty her mother would come eventually.

Then she heard it—Shuffling advances down the hallway, slowly getting closer. It was her mother, or so she hoped, as the other possibility was much too terrifying to reflect upon. But as the door slowly opened with a creak, all the air in the room seemed to disappear. Hugging the clock, expecting the worst, Jane saw her father beyond the threshold.

"Why are you awake this late at night cradling that old piece of junk?"

"I'm afraid to sleep, and Mom said that when this long hand reaches that spot, she will come and keep me company."

"Perhaps you can wait while lying in bed with the lights shut?" he asked as he stretched a long arm toward the switch.

"No!" yelled the little girl. "If it's dark, they will come..."

"Who are "they"?"

"The… The little ones," she whispered, afraid they would take offense to any other name.

Trying to suppress a smile, he sat on the bed next to his little girl and asked, "And where do they come from, these… Little ones?"

"From right here, under the bed…"

He placed a finger on his lips, signaling for silence, as he sat on his knees and slowly leaned in to look at the place his daughter indicated. Jane wanted to tell him it was dangerous to stop, but something prevented her from doing so. She closed her eyes and heard her father screaming.

"Haaaah! No! They got me! They got me!"

She felt sick, frozen, like at night when they came. She could feel their presence staring at her from beyond the veil, and silent tears began to flow down her cheeks.

The mother ran into the room. "What happened?!"

Laughing, the father rolled out from under the bed. "Nothing, nothing. Just a harmless prank."

"A harmless prank?! Your son is sleeping!" she yelled, and with that, the cries of a restless infant rang like a bell through the night. "Look now what you have done! Jane, stop crying this instant. And you," she turned to face her husband, "go fix what you have done!"

And so she left, leaving behind a stunned husband and daughter in thorny silence.

"But you woke him…" mumbled the man as he turned off the light and closed the door.

Numbness once again spread across Jane's body. The old clock was ticking near her head, and she could hear the rustling of fabric underneath her bed. They were coming.

"We got ourselves a rat over here." Said a gravelly voice near her ear.

A chorus of voices came from everywhere at once. "We should make clothes from her hair, jewelry from her teeth, and wine from her blood."

"Please, please, leave me alone. My little brother is just in the room next door."

"Such a kind offer!"

"Yes, it is!"

They started moving toward her, one by one, getting closer. A bony one sat on her chest, his breath stank of garlic and berries. The warm liquid spread between her legs, and her body started burning.

"But we must decline..."

"We will get everything we want when the time comes…"

"It is all their fault you suffer so. No human will believe you, trust in us, follow us. Where we come from, you will be able to sleep at night. Until you do, we will stay right here with you."

Then she heard it: cries of joy, pain, laughter, and sorrow, all coming from underneath the bed. As she looked into the creature's eyes, she saw crystals and dancing lights. Plains of green grass, azure lakes, flowers as far as the mind could perceive, and at the center of it all, a doe resting beneath a single tree, perfectly hidden behind a forest of thorns and mists.

The stench of garlic, a whiff of berries, a blink, and a smile full of teeth. Tick-tock, tick-tock all around until dawn.

"What did you do? I thought we were past bedwetting…" said Jane's mother, "Come on, take off your nightdress. Not here! Put it in this trash bag. It's too small on you anyway."

"No! I love it!" cried Jane as she hugged the soaked nightdress.

"Jane, that's filthy! Give it to me!"

A struggle ensued, one that ended with the mother tearing the nightdress off her daughter's tiny figure.

"What is it all over your body?"

Scratch marks. Tiny scratch marks, like a cat's claws, covered her body from head to toe.

"Jane, what did you do to yourself!?"

"It's the little ones, it's them, I swear!" cried the little girl. She was brave, for they listened, they always knew, and the echo would be felt through.

"Jane, they are not real!" Mother said as she looked at her wrist. "We have no time. We'll revisit this tonight."

But, that night, her mother forgot, and they did not. As the clock went on and on, tick-tock, tick-tock, they once again came forward.

"Ha! We told you you can't trust them."

"We are lovely; we are kind; we will not punish you tonight."

"Unlike them, we only have you in our hearts."

"Look here, we brought proof! A lovely new night dress, just for you. Feel the delicate texture. Look at the splendid color!"

"We are the only ones who love you."

"Someday, you will come to realize it."

"And come to love us."

"But until you do, we will stay right here with you."

"Jane!" called the mother, snapping her daze. "What are you wearing?! Did you pull it out of the trash?! Disgusting!"

Once again, all of Jane's protests were for naught, and once again, the nightdress was thrown out. But this time, Jane was punished, condemned to stay locked in her room for searching through the trash, a crime she desperately denied.

In the silence of her room, after the night fell down and all her tears dried up, the girl lifted the old clock and threw it to the ground. It shattered into countless pieces that flew all around, shining, sparkling, like stars drowned in the dark sky.

"Look, the human child did not mention us!"

"Yes, she did not!"

"Perhaps there is hope for her after all…"

"We brought you another present, better than the last. Look at this night dress. How refined! We made it ourselves, you know, just to show our love."

"Come with us, human child. Come with us where you could run all day and play all night. Come with us, or we shall keep having fun…"

Jane thought long and hard. Perhaps if she came, she could sleep at night. Perhaps if she comes, she will experience great delights. What did she have holding her back?

"But what about mom and dad?"

"Yes!"

"They deserve to be punished; they need to feel hurt."

"Think about all they did to you."

"Yes! Think about the mocking…"

"And the yelling."

"Take what she loves most!"

"Take what took your place!"

"With him around, they won't even notice you are gone…"

Jane clenched her fists, nails digging into flesh as she sat up straight. A scar like this will surely last, binding the guilty in the past. Poison consumed her mind, and she drowned down, down, down until she hit the ground.

When the witching hour struck, night and day merged into one; the little girl got off her bed, went to her brother's room, and picked up the baby. He did not move, nor stirred nor waked. He just curled in Jane's arms, slowly breathing like the coming and goings of the waves.

Why was it so? Why did he take everything Jane ever sought? Or so she thought as she walked with the white eyes as her companions.

When she reached the room, she looked around. The little ones were both at the front and the back. One by one, they smiled at her, and under the bed, they crawled until none were left behind. She threw one last glance at the wooden door, for she heard her name being called.

"But who will take care of me once I'm there? Who will make my food? Who will make sure I'm safe?" she asked and stepped toward the door.

But a pale gray hand with sharp, long, curly fingernails came from under the bed. Its skin was saggy and wrinkly, with wispy long hair covering its joints. It grasped her ankle and would not let go. "We will care for you, as we have done all your life. Don't you remember? Don't you love us?" sang a chorus of children.

"But won't you make clothes from my hair, jewelry from my teeth, and wine from my blood?"
"Yes, we will, but will it be that bad?"

She felt clammy, cold, and then safe and warm. The hand let go of her ankle; it had smooth peach-colored skin, and with a graceful movement came the invitation to hold it. As these thoughts swirled around her mind, she felt the numbness lift, and her heart was at peace.

The girl's eyes were misty, and a single tear fell down her cheek onto the baby's brow as she said, "I suppose not…"

The door to the girl's room opened, and the mother hurried inside. But the little girl was long gone. The bed was neatly made up and organized. On top of it stood the old clock marvelous like never before, all its pieces reassembled into one, hands locked in time, like a soul in paradise.