by Ramsey Isler
Once the lawyers on both sides had finished their arcane negotiations and the deal was signed, Sam immediately started putting the money to good use. She had plans, lots of plans. Dreams of being the most innovative watchmaker in the world danced in her head. And it was all due to that quirky little fellow her father found in the woods decades ago.
Now that everyone agreed to join the new venture, Sam decided she could relax. The pieces of her plan were falling in place. Every time she thought of the events of the past few days, she smiled. Life was good, but not perfect. Sam had always been a stickler for details and planning, and unknown variables always make planning difficult. Piv was still one of those unknowns. She was determined to fix that.
It was a little chilly this evening, and Sam curled up on her chaise with a blanket and a cup of Quietly Chamomile. She occupied herself with a newly acquired hobby that consumed most of her spare time—leafing through the diary her father had left behind. The stories were in meticulous detail, but there was little valuable information in most of them. Her father had spent much time detailing Piv’s eating habits, his temperature, and the conversations they had about 20th century technology, but there had been no more entries that revealed anything monumental about Piv, or his kind.
Sam flipped through the pages aimlessly. She wasn’t looking for anything in particular, especially since her father’s notes were very linear and the few times she had tried to skip some pages she found herself utterly lost.
But tonight, she stumbled upon something new.
She found a page where her father’s usual crisp handwriting was a little sloppy, as if he had been in a hurry when he wrote it. She read the first line: “Today I met Piv’s friends”, and knew immediately she was on to something. She took a long gulp of her tea, tightened the blanket around her, and read on.
* * *
May 17th,
Today I met Piv’s friends.
“Friends” may not be the best word, since the Kith mean so much more than that to each other. They are friends, family, comrades, neighbors...everything but lovers (I assume, although it could be possible. Piv has been rather reticent about Kith reproductive habits and I fear any further attempts to pry would offend him. Still, I wonder exactly how they go about it. Many of the old Germanic tales speak of elf queens. Perhaps the Kith are like bees).
Oh dear, I’m rambling.
Anyway, back to my original story. I met Piv’s companions. Since things have been going so well, and he feels he can fully trust me now, he arranged a meeting with some other Kith. He told me that his kind don’t often gather in large groups these days, but when they do congregate it’s a grand old time. He told me tales of dancing, and singing, and the exchange of various stories about the big people. It seemed like a great party, and I felt quite privileged to even be invited, as the guest of honor even!
“They’ll like you,” Piv said to me as we left the cabin and hiked to the meeting place. “You know how to behave.”
It was a glorious spring morning and the sun was beaming down warm shafts of light that felt like the radiant blessings of a benevolent god. We hiked for hours, over hills, through the woods, across streams. It was well past midday when we finally reached our destination, a shady glade so well-hidden that I doubt human feet had stepped on that grass for many decades until I arrived.
Then I saw them.
To say they were a motley crew would be a comical understatement. They were dressed in all sorts of clothing that made Piv’s eclectic wardrobe seem positively pedestrian. Some of them wore garments patched together with straw and bits of leaves. Others wore swaths of fur meticulously arranged and tailored to fit their slender bodies. And then there were others who barely wore anything. Their attire consisted of little more than loincloths and armbands. These nearly naked Kith stood boldly and eyed me carefully as I approached.
“These are my friends,” Piv said as he grasped my hand and led me forward. “Some of them will tell you their names, but most won’t. Don’t be offended. You are still a stranger, after all.”
We walked to the center of the glade, where all the Kith surrounded us. I was sweating profusely, even though the weather was quite mild. I had no idea what to expect from these beings, but I knew that I was experiencing something extremely special, and I’d best be careful not to muck it up.
So when Piv asked me to introduce myself, I was a bit lost for words.
“Well...I...I,” I stammered. “I’m...Samuel. I’ve been a fan of your...your people...for most of life. I’ve studied many stories abou—”
“Stories!” one of the Kith nearest to me exclaimed. “Yes, we know about the stories you people tell about us. So many lies.”
I turned to him and said, “Well, at least some of them were true. That’s how I was able to find Piv here.”
“That was luck,” the Kith said. He folded his arms and glared at me, but I could see a faint smile on his lips.
“Luck might have had something to do with it,” I said. “But I think cleverness was much more of a factor. What’s your name?”
“You may ask all you want, but I’m not telling.” Then he gestured towards a group of Kith across from him. “Talk to them if you want another Kith name to add to your collection.”
I smiled at the other Kith my obnoxious challenger mentioned. One of them stepped forward. He was dressed in a fashion similar to Piv’s attire. He wore simple cloth pants, boots fashioned from some kind of animal skin, and a rust-colored shirt that hung loosely from his shoulders. He might have been able to pass for a normal boy in any American town back in the 18th century.
“My name is Chiwatha,” he said to me. “And our friend here is correct about the stories you may have been told. Many of the big people tell outlandish stories about us.”
“Outlandish!” said the Kith who had refused to give me his name. “Out-LAND-ish.”
Piv nodded and looked at me. “All that wiffle waffle about elves stealing babies is very offensive,” he said. “Pure rubbish. Whatever would we want with a baby? They’re noisy and dirty and stinky. Maddening creatures. They’re more fun after they’ve sprouted up a bit. Not helpless and small, but not snooty and big either.”
“Well,” I said. “I certainly never put much credence in those baby-stealing stories, or any of the other stories that seemed far too cruel to be plausible. But those tales are rather popular, and I thought there might have been at least some small kernel of truth in their origins. Did the Grimm brothers get all those stories wrong?”
A hush swept over the group like a sudden breeze. The silence was quick, and complete.
I turned to Piv. “Did I...say something out of sorts?”
“We don’t like the Grimms,” Piv muttered.
“May I ask why?”
“You may.”
I stood for a long moment, and waited for Piv to go on. He and the other Kith just stared at me expectantly. Then I realized he was actually waiting for me to ask why, as I had asked permission for. I’m not sure if I’ll get used to how literally the Kith take human language sometimes.
So I asked him, “Why?”
“The Grimms were our friends,” a pale Kith to my left said. “They were very curious, and very nice. They used to bring us treats. The sweetest treats, yes. Very sweet. And they cared about our stories, and they exchanged such fun stories of their own. And everything we told them, they remembered. Yes, they remembered too well.”
“They were supposed to keep it secret,” Piv said. “There is a word you people have...what is it...god’s sip?”
“Gossip,” I said. “Although I don’t think it means what you think it means.”
“Maybe not,” Piv said. “But that matters neither here nor there, nor anywhere. What’s important is that the Grimms wrote down those stories and then shared them with others. They weren’t supposed to do that.”
“But you said their stories weren’t true,” I said.
“Well, their original stories we
re true,” Chiwatha said. “But we put a stop to that. Yes we did.”
“We took many of their notebooks away from them,” Piv said. “So that they didn’t have all the tales. But that didn’t quite work, and whatever they couldn’t remember from their notes, they just pulled out of the air. They mixed real stories with fake ones, and they didn’t care if it ruined our reputation. I think some of the stories they told may have been just to spite us.”
“I see,” I said. “Well, you won’t have to worry about me doing that. I’m not here to write storybooks to sell. I’m just fascinated by your very existence. I always have been.”
“It’s true,” Piv said with an exuberant smile. “He’s just curious, that’s all. No harm in that.”
“We believe you,” said another Kith, one of the nearly naked ones. “That is why we all came here today. You should be honored, tall one. It is not often a Kith gets so excited about your people.”
“I am quite honored,” I said. “Honored, and fortunate to have Piv as a friend and companion.”
“And now you are a friend to us as well,” Chiwatha said. “But we will not be your companions. Not all of us enjoy so much contact with your kind.”
“I understand,” I said, “but I do hope that I may see all of you again, from time to time. You’re all free to visit my cabin whenever you like. Piv can show you the way.”
“Oh we know where you are,” the standoffish unnamed Kith said. “We can smell you miles away.”
The other Kith giggled, and although the joke had been at my expense, I felt no malice in it. Still, I decided to call this particular elf Snooty. Since he would not provide me a name, I felt it appropriate to give him one for my own reference, and I think it’s quite an accurate moniker.
Snooty’s joke broke the proverbial ice, and the other Kith appeared to relax. Piv reached into my knapsack and retrieved the Zenith radio I had given him. He turned it on and held the device high so the aluminum trim sparkled in the sun. I had seen him take it apart and put it back together countless times by now, but as the music started to play I realized he had done something new. The clever fellow had actually found some way to improve the radio reception out here, and the static that used to pepper the music was barely noticeable.
“The talking box again,” Snooty said. “Piv’s favorite new plaything.”
“Don’t be a bore,” Chiwatha said. “You fancy a good dance just as much as the rest of us.” Then the Kith indeed started dancing. The radio played a laughably outdated tune (we can only get the golden oldies AM station out here), but the Kith did not seem to mind. They danced happily, holding hands and twirling about in a circle that reminded me of the kind of dancing kindergarten children do. The music was not to my taste, and I’ve never been much of a dancer to begin with, so I just sat my tush into the soft earth and watched the Kith have at it.
The Kith danced for hours. I’m not exactly sure how long it was, but they danced and laughed until the Zenith’s batteries were depleted. The music stopped abruptly right in the middle of a waltz, and the Kith began to giggle. After the giggles stopped (it took a good two minutes, at least), Piv said, “Thank you, everyone. You’ve made Samuel very happy. We’re going to go now.”
Then the Kith did something remarkable. They all smiled simultaneously, then each one covered their face with both hands. In the blink of an eye, they were gone. They vanished like they had never been there in the first place.
“We can go now,” Piv said. He grasped my hand again and led me away from the glade.
“Well...that was...strange,” I said. “What just happened? Why did they cover their faces and leave?”
“Oh that,” Piv said with a dismissive hand gesture. “It’s nothing important. Kith just really dislike goodbyes. It’s very sad to see our friends leave. So we just don’t look. That way, our last memory of them isn’t of them leaving. Instead, we think of our last little game of peekaboo. That is what you still call it in English, correct? Peekaboo?”
“Yes,” I said. “That is absolutely fascinating. I never knew that.”
“There’s no reason you would,” Piv said. “The Kith only do it with each other. It’s not something we do with your kind.”
“Will I see any of them again?” I asked.
“That depends on many things,” Piv said. “But even if you don’t see them, they will definitely see you.”
“Ah,” I said. “I guess I should be on my best behavior when I’m in the woods then.”
“Oh you should be on your best behavior everywhere,” Piv said. “We watch more than just the woods.”
May 18th,
I fell asleep after writing yesterday’s entry. It was barely past sundown when I wrote it, but I found myself utterly exhausted by the time I’d finished putting all the words onto paper. Now that I look back on it, I can tell from the terribly sloppy handwriting that I was on the verge of passing out the whole time. I’m not quite sure how I wrote it all so coherently.
I’m tired because my little friend keeps odd hours. Piv and his kind are nocturnal for the most part. Like an energetic little kitten, he spends most of the late evening hours occupied with whatever whim strikes him at the moment. I am loathe to miss anything important so I try to stay up with him. I’ve done a pretty good job so far, but I suppose the miniscule amounts of sleep aren’t enough to keep me charged for the rest of the day.
Maybe I need more rest. Or maybe my body was exhausted from the adrenaline that has been constantly pumping through my veins since I met Piv. There are so many thoughts in my head these days. There are so many things I want to write in this journal, but I haven’t even formulated the thoughts coherently in my own mind yet. I’m certain any attempts to write them here now would only result in something that would seem like the ramblings of a madman hopped up on happy juice.
That’s what I fear the most, really. For so long, my fascination with elves brought me no comfort from other people. Now that I’ve found the Kith, I feel like I’m finally vindicated. But can I share my findings with others? Will the modern world ever accept the Kith’s existence? Will I ever get the recognition I so desperately want?
I fear the answer to all the above questions is “No”. There will be no happy ending for me. The knowledge that I have now will either be something I take to my grave, or something that earns me permanent accommodations in a nice little padded room with “room service” attendants clad in white and armed with all sorts of pills to keep me manageable. I can’t stand the prospect of either fate.
So I write in this journal. It has become my confidant, my therapist, and a constant reminder of the truth of my situation. Sometimes I look back at old entries and wonder how any of this can be real. Even to me, it seems fantastical and bizarre. There’s only one reason I don’t question my own sanity every time I read what I’ve written: Piv is standing right in front me.
He’s not a hallucination. He’s not a phantasm. He’s real. I can touch his supple skin, hear the music of his humming, and smell the unique aroma that I surely can’t be imagining because I’ve never smelled anything like this before. He’s real. His friends are real. I just wish everyone else knew it too.
But that will never happen. I find it cruelly ironic that the most validating discovery of my life must remain secret. Even if I could somehow bring this knowledge to the world, when I play out the scenarios they all end in disaster. Many would see the Kith as a threat. Others would try to take advantage of them. Many others would no doubt want to study them, but not the way I have. There are certainly countless “scientists” that would have no qualms about slicing Piv up piece by piece to see what makes him tick. I must admit that even I am horribly tempted by the idea of having a Kith corpse to study.
Exposing the Kith for my own validation could lead to their extinction.
So I sit, and write, and spend my days and evenings with these wonderful beings, knowing what no one else can know. Not yet. But one day, this journal will end up in the r
ight hands. If you’re reading this, you are observing my most private thoughts and my most valued triumphs. I’ve held nothing back, and neglected no details. This journal is my legacy to the world. Please, use it well, and use it wisely.
Chapter 11
The next day, Sam woke up a little later than usual. She’d spent much of the night reading and thinking about what she had read, so she didn’t get to bed until a very late hour, when the only shows on TV were decade-old reruns and infomercials. By the time she woke up it was already rush hour.
After a shower and some coffee, she drove to a nearby office supply store and ordered a few things for delivery later that day. She bought a nice conference table, some metal folding chairs, and a couple of whiteboards, all of which were delivered promptly. Sam used the items to set up a makeshift office in one of the stuffy old rooms above the Better Timepieces workshop. At 3 p.m., Jess, Yusef, and Hamilton showed up and sat down in this office.
“Welcome to the first board meeting of the new Better Timepieces,” Sam said with a beaming smile.
“A momentous occasion,” Yusef said, then he stuck a pen in his mouth.
“What’s on the agenda for this meeting?” Hamilton asked.
“We’re going to be shifting operations from repair to production,” Sam said, “but we’re going to do it carefully. We don’t want to lose our brand, and a lot of our current customers could become happy owners of a Better timepiece if we do this right.”
“Agreed,” Hamilton declared. “But who’s building the timepieces?”
“I’m outsourcing the labor for now,” Sam said.
“Where?” Hamilton asked. “Are you getting all this done in China?”
“Maybe, maybe not,” Sam said with a coy smile. “For now, I need to keep our production process a secret.”
“Even from us?” Hamilton asked.
