by Chase Connor
Ernst jumped up in bed when I sat up with a jolt. We glanced at each other in the dark, his shiny black eyes looking like onyx in the darkness of night. I reached over and glanced at my cell phone. It was just after two o’clock in the morning. I had been dreaming about the eerie green light yet again, and then something had jolted me awake. It had been a sound, I was pretty sure, but I couldn’t remember what it was for the life of me.
Something in the night had been loud enough to disturb me from my sleep and had also rattled Ernst. I knew he was rattled because of his stance but also because he hadn’t scuttled off into the darkness to wherever it was that he scuttled off to when I had woken up in the past. Of course, now that I knew of his existence, we had talked to each other, it was unlikely that he would avoid me much anymore.
“Did you hear something, Ernst?” I asked, peering over to look at him, alert at the end of the bed.
“Aye.” He nodded.
“What was it?”
“Dunno, sir.” He whispered. “Someone hollerin’ out, I think.”
“Oma…?”
He shrugged his tiny shoulders in the dark. Together, we stayed there in bed together, listening for the sound of whatever it had been that had shaken us from our slumber. I cautiously slid my legs over the side of the bed as Ernst listened and watched me, as though concerned for me.
“Careful, sir.” He whispered.
“I’m sure it’s fine.” I tried to smile. “I don’t hear anything now.”
Ernst gave the smallest of nods as I stood from the bed. I stood there at the bedside, listening for any noise, watching for any movement. Of course, in the dark, how would I know if anything was moving? Ernst was quiet as a church mouse and stood still as a statue as his pointy ears stayed at alert, listening for any sound throughout the house.
Oma wasn’t screaming out for me, and the house seemed as quiet and still as it did on any other deep night at two in the morning. My grandmother was probably still tucked tightly into bed, sleeping soundly. Maybe Lena or another one of the Kobolds asleep at her feet or side. Why had I been dreaming about the green light again? I had promised Oma I would stay away from the cellar, that I wouldn’t search out whatever it was drawing me there.
That was another thing I had thought about while we were doing dishes after dinner. How had she known about my dreams about the cellar? Or had I been dreaming when I had gone down to the cellar? Had I been sleepwalking and she had caught me doing it? I shivered there in the bedroom in the dark as I stood, listening for sounds. Ernst tiptoed over to the side of the bed and tapped me on the elbow with one of his small, bony fingers.
I nearly jumped out of my skin, then laughed nervously. Ernst gave me an apologetic smile.
“Did you hear something?” I looked down into those black eyes in the dark.
“No, sir.” He shook his head. “I dunno what woke us, sir.”
I nodded down at him.
“Maybe I said something in my sleep?” I suggested.
He shrugged, appearing to be less worried than before.
“Are you okay?”
He beamed up at me. Obviously, he was fine. And me asking about his well-being made him happy.
“Yes, sir.”
I smiled down at him.
But then I heard it again. Well, I would have said I heard whatever it was again because what I heard was familiar. I hadn’t known what noise had shaken us from our sleep, but the sound that came to me didn’t sound foreign but like something I had just heard recently. Or, maybe that wasn’t right. It just seemed like I should know the sound. Ernst’s ears pricked up and his hand went to mine. His tiny hand managed to wrap around two of my fingers frantically as his head turned towards the window.
“What was that?” I asked.
Ernst nodded towards the window. I looked down at him. His hand stayed wrapped around my fingers. The child-like gesture would have made me smile if it weren’t for the fact that I was concerned. Something was going on that wasn’t right, even if I didn’t know what it was. I slowly slid my fingers out of Ernst’s grasp as I stepped towards the window. Ernst made concerned noises as I moved away from the bed towards the drapes. Turning my head slightly, I gave him a reassuring smile.
When I approached the window, I reached out cautiously and grabbed ahold of the drape, pulling it to the side so that I could peer out. Ernst was making concerned noises from behind me as I leaned forward and looked out into the backyard. My eyes grew wide as I looked down and saw a tall, hooded figure in the middle of Oma’s still unplanted garden, hands raised aloft, his or her back turned to me. Several, shorter figures in hoods stood around the figure in a circle, their arms raised towards the sky as well.
“What the fuck?” I whispered.
“What is it, sir?” Ernst whisper-hissed behind me.
“There are people down there,” I said lowly. “They’re…I don’t know what they’re doing.”
I let go of the drape and stomped over to the bedside table, quickly flipping on the lamp. Ernst shut his eyes against the sudden light as I shoved my feet into my slippers.
“What are ya’ doing, sir?” Ernst asked frantically when his eyes opened incrementally.
“I’m going down there and finding out what the fuck is going on is what I’m doing,” I grumbled as I went over to the bathroom door and grabbed my robe. “I’m sick of this shit.”
“No, sir. No.” Ernst leaped down from the bed and landed on the floor with a soft ‘thump.’ “Ya’ shouldn’t go out there. Ya’ should stay here. It’s safe inside the house.”
“Ernst.” I pulled my hand back as he reached for it. “I’m going out there and finding out once and for all what is going on here. You just crawl back up onto the bed and go back to sleep. I’ll be back once I talk to those assholes out there.”
My mind raced back to the night I had had dinner and wine at Lucas’ house the first time. I had come home, quite a bit drunk, and seen those figures in the garden before. At the time, I brushed it all off as being under the influence of alcohol. Now, I wasn’t dreaming, drunk, or under the influence of anything else. This was real, and I was going to get to the bottom of it.
“Sir.” Ernst raced along beside me as I walked to the bedroom door. “Don’t. Please.”
I sighed and squatted down so that my eyes were close to level with Ernst’s.
“Look,” I said, “just get back up into the bed, okay? Try to sleep. I won’t be gone long. I’ll be okay, Ernst. Don’t worry. When I come back, we’ll both go back to sleep and forget all about this.”
Ernst chewed at his lip, his eyes darting around.
“I promise.” I laid my hand on his shoulder.
My hand was enormous in comparison to his bony shoulder.
“Okay, sir.” He gave a decisive nod. “But if ya’re not back in ten minutes, I will wake up the madam.”
“Fair enough.” I tried to smile confidently. “But give me ten full minutes, okay?”
“Yes, sir.”
I gave him another pat on the shoulder and exited the bedroom. As I gently shut the door, I gave him a wink. Ernst still looked as though he had eaten something funny and it had settled in his stomach. Once the door was shut, I crept down the dark hallway and tiptoed down the stairs, doing my best to be as quiet as possible. I padded through the living room, through the kitchen, and to the back door. Taking a deep breath, I unlatched the door and grabbed the knob. What would happen if I went out into the garden and demanded these people tell me what the fuck they were doing? Were they some cult or coven performing some ritual?
When I threw the door wide, though, I found the backyard dark, quiet, and absolutely empty. The fenced in garden area was empty, and there was absolutely no sign of anyone having been inside the fence. Everything was deathly quiet and still. My throat felt like a multitude of lumps needed to be swallowed down. My eyes scanned the yard, looking for signs of movement or absolutely anything that was out of place. Everything was as it always was
. Still, dark, quiet, peaceful.
I was at the point of convincing myself to close and latch the door once again when my eyes affixed on the woods just beyond the yard. Shimmering, white and ghost-like, I saw a figure. I squinted and looked towards the sight, immediately recognizing it as the teen-Rob I had pulled out of the lake nights before. I swallowed hard as my eyes adjusted and I took in the figure peeking playfully from around one of the trees at the edge of the woods.
As if beckoning to me, teen-Rob’s arm came up and its hand waved me towards it.
Close the fucking door, Rob.
Close the door.
Close the door.
Latch it. Go back to bed. Forget you saw this.
I found myself going down the back steps and stepping into the yard below. The figure continued to beckon to me as I glided across the soggy backyard, water seeping into my slippers as I was propelled by some unknown forced towards the woods. I knew that if I wanted, I could force myself to go back to the house, lock the door, go upstairs, and crawl back into bed. But something inside of me told me that there was no way out but through.
When I got within a few yards of the tree that my teenage self had stood behind, the ghost-like teen-Rob ducked behind it with an audible chuckle. I stopped in my tracks, suddenly concerned that I was in danger. However, I allowed myself the space of a few breaths to collect myself and then began walking towards the woods again. One more foot. Then two. Then three. When I was nearly close enough to reach out and touch the tree, my eyes grew wide as ghost-like teen-Rob appeared from behind the tree. He smiled at me for a split second…and then he was flying at me.
Teenage ghost-Rob flew into me, and I was flung backward, falling wetly onto the soggy lawn behind me. My back hit the soggy ground, and my head thumped softly against the muddy earth. The breath was knocked out of me as I hit the ground so that I ended up lying there, trying to collect myself and my thoughts as I gazed up at the clear, starry, early-Spring sky above. My mind went blank, and my vision hazed over. For a split second, I wondered if I was about to feel myself lose consciousness, blackout, only to wake in the yard with the sun beating down on me, Oma standing over me cursing and raving.
Then I felt myself inhale sharply. A gasp escaped my mouth as my eyes welled with fat tears and I came back to myself.
I remembered everything.
Chapter 1
‘Everything Little Thing She Does Is Magic’ by The Police was playing on the little radio on the kitchen counter when I walked into the room. Bright summer sunlight was pouring through the windows in the house, making everything look white and golden and nearly celestial. All of the curtains and drapes had been pushed back on their rods to help welcome the first day of summer. The house was sparkling clean and smelled of Oma’s favorite lavender cleaner. I staggered down the stairs, all wonky elbows and joints, my hair surely sticking up in spikes all over my head, rubbing my fists into my eyes. My bare feet padded down the stairs and then across the floor of the living room towards the kitchen. It was my last summer before I started Big Boy School. Talks had been given to me over and over again about what to expect, the friends I’d make, the teachers I would love, the things I would learn. All I cared about that summer morning was getting some of the food in the kitchen that was scenting the house from top to bottom: bacon and eggs and butter and maple-y goodness.
When I entered the kitchen, I immediately saw her standing there, back turned to me, poking around in a skillet on top of the stove. My eyes lit up as an evil grin came to my face, and I tiptoed across the linoleum floor in the kitchen, sneaking up on her. I grabbed ahold of her sides, my head barely coming up past her butt, making her scream out in feigned shock. She had heard me walking up behind her, but it didn’t matter. She let my five-year-old self pretend that I had snuck up and startled the daylights out of her. She spun around, hand to chest, gasping as she looked down at me with wide eyes. Then her face broke into a smile, and she dropped to kneel before me. Her arms went around me immediately as she smothered my face with kisses.
“Good morning, Robbie!” My mother managed to get out between my squealing and squirming as she smothered me with her kisses. “Good morning my little ray of sunshine!”
“Mommy!” I squealed, pretending that I wanted to get away but I was really wanting my mother’s kisses to keep going until I was exhausted and collapsed in her arms.
I wanted to feel my mom’s arms around me, comforting and loving me, leading me to the table for my breakfast. The smothering kisses and squeezing arms lasted for what was a very long time, but not to a five-year-old. Finally, my mom pulled back, her hands going to my shoulders so that she could get a good look at me. Immediately, one hand went to my head, to try and pat down the multitude of cow-licks in my hair. She smiled to herself as she gave up after a few seconds. My hair never wanted to do what she wanted it to do, and that was a battle she was slowly losing. Her hand went to my chin, pinching it between her fingers as she winked at me.
“Did you leave your appetite in bed or is it here with you?”
I giggled. So silly.
“I’m so hungry, mommy!”
“What do you want for breakfast, baby?”
“What did you make?”
“What do you want?”
I giggled. This was our game.
“What did you make, mommy?”
She smiled widely.
“What do you want?”
“I want eggs and bacon and pancakes!” I crowed towards the ceiling, excited for a new day, full of endless possibilities and wonder.
The way a five-year-old lives each day…with possibility.
“Well,” Mom kissed my forehead quickly, “you must have read my mind. That’s exactly what I made.”
Cheering, I headed over to the table, my mom patting me on the butt as I turned away from her. I sat down, yawning and rubbing my eyes again as my mom got a plate from the cabinet in Oma’s kitchen and went over to the stove to serve my breakfast. That was probably the best thing about being so young—no real responsibility, all the wonders of the world, and your mom served you breakfast. As I sat there, listening to the spatula scrape against the cast iron skillet, I couldn’t help but wonder where Oma and my father were. They always had breakfast with us in the morning. In fact, Oma was usually the first person down in the kitchen. She usually made our breakfast. Sometimes mom did…but not very often. Frowning to myself, I rubbed my eyes with my balled-up hands again, trying to chase the last of the sleep away.
Just as I was turning in my seat to peek at my mother over the chair back, I felt it. The rumbling in the floor. At first, it just felt like a train passing nearby, though there were absolutely no train tracks anywhere near Oma’s house. My eyes grew wide as the rumbling turned into shaking and the whole house seemed to shake with the movement. A low roar began, then louder and louder until it sounded like a tornado was about to rip the house apart. I looked at my mother in terror as she turned to me, the half-filled plate in her hand, her own eyes wide with concern. No…with absolute terror.
“Mommy?” I squealed as loudly as I could over the sound.
“Stay there, Robbie!” My mom replied desperately, her hand unsteady as she reached out to set the plate on the kitchen counter as the house shook.
The plate clattered to the floor, shattering, food flying everywhere as I grabbed onto the chair, trying not to fall off of my seat. Next, it was the small radio falling off of the kitchen counter, its crash to the floor muted by the roaring and shaking. The roaring and shaking increased until I knew that I would fall from my seat to the hard ground below. My mother held onto the kitchen counter, trying to stay on her feet and also not step on the broken plate shards or chunks of greasy food. Suddenly, as though it had never even started, the roaring and the shaking stopped. We were left in Oma’s deathly quiet kitchen, me holding onto my chair, terrified, and my mother gripping the kitchen counter as though her life depended upon it. Slowly, she turned to look at me, her face
ashen, concern etched all over it.
“Muh-mommy?” I peeped.
My mother’s mouth moved but whatever came out was muffled, as though she were speaking underwater.
Then the roaring and shaking were back, and green light filled the room.
“Robbie!” My mother screeched.
Whispers.
Whispers everywhere.
My vision was blurry as I looked up at the moon peeking through the clouds and tree limbs overhead. The moon was like color trails in my vision, haloes of red and blue and green, especially green. Shutting my eyes tightly, I pulled my arms away from the muddy ground to slap my hands over my ears. The whispers continued, indecipherable, indiscernible, coming from everywhere but nowhere at all. Were they coming from inside of my head? Who was whispering? What were they saying? I grimaced and shook my head as I held my hands against my ears. Slowly, the whispering tapered off. My heart was in my throat, pounding like a jackhammer. I could hear it inside of my head, replacing the whispers as the memories ducked in and out of the vault in my head.
Pulling my hands away from my ears, I laid there, looking up at the clouds passing in front of the moon through the tree branches overhead.
Did you see that?
“What?” I gasped, trying to rise to a seated position, my body not wanting to cooperate.
Who was I talking to as I laid there? Who was out in the backyard with me? I listened carefully, trying to ignore the sound of my own heart in my head. Off in the distance, a wolf howled.
Did you see that?
Immediately, I pushed myself out of the muck I had fallen into, jumping to my feet. Mud and muck dripped off of me. It had seeped through my pajamas, matted the back of my head, covered the entire backside of me. Dashing across the still nearly frozen ground at the edge of the woods, I ran as fast as my thudding heart and my aching joints allowed, heading directly towards Oma’s house. The whispers had stopped, my vision had cleared, Oma’s house was crisp and sharp in my vision as I crossed the lawn at top speed. Halfway across the lawn, the house getting closer, I noticed the stillness of the night around me. My feet crunching against the ground, my heart in my throat; they were the only sounds I heard. The clouds moving across the sky and me dashing across the lawn were the only things moving in the dark.
