The Fae Calls

Names have power, did you know that?

“Elliott the Elephant, Elliott the Eleman,” the little boy sang as he dragged along a sled through the Wintery wonderland. He was dressed in a puffed up jacket, red scarf, and a cap, his snow boots crunching with each step. His breath puffed ahead of him as the sled left trenches behind them, the sun leaving the sky as fast as it had appeared. The trees had started to appear scary, and so the little boy had started his walk home.

“Elliott?” came a whispery voice, and the little boy stopped, the sled bumping into the back of his heels. He stared into the forest, the creeping tree limbs reaching out to him like his grandfather’s long spindly fingers.

“Elliott,” he repeated. “My name’s Elliott.”

“Elliott, the elephant.”

“Yeah, that’s what my mom says,” he looked from the dark void to the trail in front of him, the warm home up ahead with smoke curling from the chimney appealing to him more and more. “I gotta go, though. See ya.”

“See you, Elliott.” The wind rustled, several dead and broken leaves scattering out and hitting his coat, and he started off just a little faster. There was something about the way the trees moved, the way the voice echoed…it was…not nice. Yes, not nice at all.

At home, his mother made soup and mashed potatoes, as they were preparing a big dinner for Christmas. Grandpa and Grandma and all the aunties and uncles would come, so they had to ‘keep hold’ of all the food, his mother said. That night she tucked him in, turning on the nightlight. “Good night, Elliott the Elephant,” she sang, settling on the bed and gently brushing his hair from his eyes. “Elliott the Eleman, such a friendly friendly man~”

Elliott felt a giggle bubbling up as it always did, her fingers trailing over the blankets and then darting up, tickling his sides. “Mom, noooo!”

“Elliott the Superman, tickly boy of all the men!” she laughed, peppering his face in kisses before tucking him back down. “Now go to sleep, baby. Dad says he’ll be in in a few days.”

“ ’Kay, Mom. Love you.”

“Love you too, Elliott Elephant.” Another kiss to his head, and then she was gone, the door shut tight behind her. He sighed, snuggling into the pillow behind him. He had on his outer space pajamas, and could hear the wind pick up outside in the dark night.

What a tough day it had been, indeed.

He went by the forest again the next day. For some reason, there were no words to be had. Elijah, a taller boy with dreads and a scar over his nose, pulled his puppy away from the edge of the forest as he walked with Elliott. “You heard someone?”

“I think so,” Elliott sighed, shaking his head. “Probably hunters.”

“Hunters?”

“That’s what Mom says a lot,” Elliott continued to trudge through the snow, now new and pretty and missing yesterday’s bootprints. “It’s a hunter, or the hunters’ lodge.”

“I don’t like the hunters.” Elijah put his puppy down, letting the little gray dog sniff around and bounce from hole to hole in the ground, making them laugh. “My dad tried to hunt with ’em and all they did was drink.”

“Drink what?”

“I dunno. What do hunters drink?” They thought about it for a little while, snow crunching as they hopped along to the puppy’s bounces, then Elijah shrugged. “Well, Dad didn’t like it.”

“Maybe it was orange juice.”

“Why orange juice?”

Elliott wrinkled his nose. “I hate orange juice.”

Elijah laughed at him, then sent a snowball his way, eliciting a small snowball fight as the puppy started barking its high-pitched bark, tail wagging in the air and bouncing harder as if trying to tackle them. When all was said and done, they were both soaked from the snow, and Elijah had to carry the puppy now that he had used up all his energy.

When Elliott walked home from Elijah’s, the sun setting once more, he heard them.

“Elliott the Elephant?”

He stopped, his sled bumping his legs again. “…yeah, that’s me. But only Mom calls me that.”

“Elliott, Elliott, what do you do?”

“I go to school. Sometimes.” No school for the holidays, after all. He took a step closer, the toe of his other boot rolling in the snow and making a small notch. “Who are you? Are you a hunter?”

“We are no hunter, Elliott.” The wind picked up dangerously, whistling between broken branches and causing more leaves to flood the forest floor. This time, however, he didn’t back away, merely squinting in the darkness and trying to pick out whoever was talking to him. It sounded like they were up above, far above him, but that was impossible. “Call us…Friend.”

“That’s weird.” Wait, no, Mom said it was rude to say that. “I’m sorry. I like your name, Friend.”

“We like yours too, Elliott.”

“Thanks, Mom gave it to me.” He let out a sigh, the cold air forcing his steamy breath to wind in the air like a coiled snake. “I should go soon. I’ll be back.”

“Thank you, Elliott…”

Elliott felt very happy being thanked, and walked home while pulling his sled once more, marking his trail in the fresh fallen snow.

Later, he told his mom about the voice in the forest. She stopped stirring the large pot meant for some kind of sauce on the turkey. Elliott was a little tired of turkey. They had it last month and now they’re having it again for THIS month! He had already peeled off his gloves and was working on his boots when she turned, staring at him in the door. “Voice? Someone’s talking to you?”

“Uh-huh,” one boot hit the carpet, the snow melting instantly as he started tugging at the velcro of his other boot. “They said their name is Friend.”

She didn’t say anything for a moment, and he had to look up, just in case he suddenly couldn’t hear like the time the popcorn kernel magically appeared in his ear that one time. She was staring at him, one hand holding the stirring spoon. “Elliott, I’d like it if you didn’t go near the forest for a while.”

“Why?”

“Remember our conversation about adults who talk to children alone?” Right. He was warned that anyone that wasn’t related to him trying to entice him away from home was not a good adult, and that he should let his parents know immediately. He nodded. “I’ll go and ask some of the other parents but right now, leave the forest alone. They’re most likely not very kind people, my little man.”

“Okay, Mom. I’m hungry.”

She smiled at him, as if expecting that answer, and turned back to the bubbling pot as he let the second boot plop to the ground, soaking the carpet once more.

He tried hard to listen to his mom, he really did. But after telling Elijah about what she said, it made the other little boy want to make the voice in the forest come out. They were there at the edge again, Elijah hollering and throwing rocks from the treeline. His puppy hopped around before settling on Elliott’s sled as he nervously stood to the side, his scarf rising in the wind every so often. “I dunno about this.”

“They’re just a ’fraidy cat!” Elijah cackled, one of his rocks bouncing off a tree. Elliott looked around nervously, searching the darkness of the forest for any sign of Friend. “Fraidy cat, fraidy cat!” he crooned, throwing snow in piles before groaning and flopping back into the snow. “They ain’t even here.”

“Probably not. We should go.”

“Fiiiiine,” Elijah swung his legs back up, whooping as he hopped up and bounced through snow. “Let’s go sled down the hill near Mrs. Johnson’s house!”

“Yeah!”

Sledding was fun, and Elliott made sure to take a backway to his home. The wind had picked up fiercely however, blowing snow and ice into his face, making every step heavy and sinking him into the snow upon the ground. When he finally managed to make it home, his sled was covered in icicles, his nose was frozen, and he was pretty sure he couldn’t feel his fingers.

His mom made him a nice warm bath, commenting on how the weather was strange tonight. Elliott figured it was because he hadn’t gone to the forest, and felt a little bad, but Mom had said no and he had to listen.

It happened a few times, always ignoring the forest, the wind whipping around him and the weather becoming more and more erratic as the days went by. Eventually his family had started to come in for dinner for Christmas. His grandparents pinched his cheeks, one aunt slipped him five dollars and a wink, and two of his cousins...did nothing because they were still little babies who just sat around crying.

Eventually the topic came up about the weather, which evolved into his mom talking about Friend. “I asked around,” she said, pouring his grandmother some coffee. “The hunters aren’t out due to the horrible weather, so I’m not sure…” she paused, as if not sure where to go from there. His aunt, Aunt Josephine who was his dad’s sister, laughed, dropping two sugar cubes in her coffee.

“An imaginary friend it sounds like! Elliott,” she looked at him from where he was playing on the rug in front of the fireplace, trying to show off all his toy cars to the two sleeping babies. “That’s it, isn’t it? A friend you’ve made up?”

Elliott huffed, clutching a small car in his hand. “Friend isn’t made up...they control the wind.”

Aunt Josephine let out a weird noise and his mom cleared her throat. “Oh my.”

“It’s a spirit,” his grandmother said, pulling her shawl tighter around her with a huff, her cane tapping on the ground. “Spirit of the forest. Tryin’ ta draw yeh in.”

“For what?” his mom mumbled, but his grandmother seemed to have heard.

“Ach, who knows. That’s how kids get lost, they follow them voices.” She pointed her cane at him seriously. “Don’t ye go fallin’ for no voice nonsense.”

“It’s an imaginary friend!” Aunt Josephine rolled her eyes. “It’s harmless! Look, Sophie,” she turned to his mom as he felt something winding up deep in his throat. “Kids go through these things, I’m a child psychologist, I should know.”

“Yes but the forest?” his mom argued. “I’d rather he be talking to, you know, his sled or something-”

“Friend is real!” He threw the car on the rug, standing up and not at all caring that one of the babies flinched and started to cry.

“Oh my!” his grandmother gripped her chest in shock and he could feel his face heating up and his eyes getting wet as he stomped a foot.

“Friend controls the wind and Friend is mad I can’t visit!”

“Elliott, Friend doesn’t-”

“They do!” He stomped out of the room, rushing for his coat and forgoing his gloves to start trudging out into the snowstorm that had erupted. “I’ll show you!”

“ELLIOTT!”

He ignored their shouting, flipping up the hood of his coat as he stomped through the snow, sitting roughly on his sled to slide down a small hill. The wind seemed to whip fiercely around him, faster and faster, ice sticking to his scarf and his eyelashes. He had to swipe at his face numerous times, ignoring how dark it was despite the time of day (wasn’t it only 4 p.m.?). He ignored a lot of things, like the shouting from behind him, until he made it to the forest edge.

And just like that, it was like time stopped.

Everything was quiet. No birds chirping. No wind whistling. Not even his heavy breathing made an intrusion into the silence.

“...Friend?”

“Elliott.”

Elliott broke out into a grin. Friend WAS real! He knew it! He wasn’t sure why he was so upset at the thought of them not being real, but it felt like...he was being made fun of, like they thought he was a stupid little baby.

“See?” he laughed, turning around. “See? Friend is-Mom…?”

No one was behind him. He could have sworn he heard them shouting behind him, as if trying to chase him down in the snowstorm.

(Sophie could have sworn she had her eyes on her son but from one moment to the next…)

“Elliott. Elliott the Eleman…”

The voice...the voice was…

At first the voice was warm, and kind. And then mean, but then kind again.

And now it was like...like sharp needles, or a visit to the doctor. Something scary waiting for him should he turn around.

Elliott slowly turned around with wide eyes, his hand releasing the handle of his sled. “Friend…?”

“We are so happy you’ve come back to us.”

He screamed as several long, pale hands reached out from the forest, his body anchored in place by fear. He managed one step back but the hands engulfed him, causing him to shriek louder as they dragged him into the forest.

“MOOOOM!” he screamed, the last word to echo from the forest, the bubble of silence broken as the storm started to settle, but the sounds of ripping and snarling replaced the wind whistling, and became just as dreadful.

~~

Elijah’s friend went missing. He didn’t know what that meant, but his mom secretly told him she thinks that his parents got ‘in another tiff’ and his dad took him camping. He wasn’t sure what that meant either.

He walked along with his puppy, whistling a tune as his puppy bounced with its usual energy.

And then it stopped, crouching low and growling at the treeline. He frowned, stopping. “Huh? C’mon, pup…”

“Elijah…?”

Elijah turned, facing the treeline.

The wind picked up.

“Hello?”