Allie Calvin is the oldest and only daughter of Scott Calvin. She was 15 when her father puts on the suit. Allie Calvin is nothing like her brother. She doesn't believe in Santa, she doesn't believe in magic, and she doesn't believe in elves. Allie...
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Charlie Calvin shuffled around in the library, his hands shoved into his pockets.
He wasn't to sure what he was doing there. He had gotten bored, and his mom had begun to get a bit to overbearing, as she normally did. So, he found himself shuffling through the different isles of the library, scanning the books with tired eyes.
It had been a few months since he had last seen his Dad and sister. He knew his Dad was busy with work, having just gotten back from his three month honeymoon with his new wife, and his knew Principal, Carol Newman.
From what he had heard, Allie and Bernard were taking a break together. He wasn't too sure when exactly they had started this friendship of theirs, but he did know it wasn't going to last as just that for too long. He had seen the way Bernard stared at his sister, and he saw the way Allie would look at him, even if she didn't realize it.
He stopped, his shaky fingers slipping a book out between its spot wedged between two others. 'The Most Confusing and Haunting Disappearances and Cold Cases' it read. Why not?
Charlie found a chair in one of the back corners, not wanting anyone to see him there. He flipped it open, scanning the table of contents. Most were from the 60s and 70s, with the occasional one from the early nineteen hundreds. Though one caught his attention. With furrowed brows, he flipped to it, adjusting his position a bit.
In a small village nestled along the fog-laden banks of the River Cotswold, the Binx family served as a charming fixture for the local community. Jack and Anne Binx, a devoted couple and industrious farmers, raised their two children—Mary, a spirited young girl of ten, and Bernard, the family's clever eight-year-old boy. Life in the Binx household was one of harmony, laughter, and the simple joys of rural existence.
However, the tranquility of their lives was shattered one fateful autumnal evening in 1695. As dusk settled over the fields, the family embarked on a journey by horse-drawn cart to a neighboring village, where Jack was to fetch provisions. A relentless downpour soaked the landscape, turning the roads to mud and rendering travel treacherous. Tragedy struck when their cart slipped and overturned, tumbling down a ravine, taking with it the laughter and love of the Binx family. Jack and Anne, along with young Mary, perished in the horrifying accident, leaving Bernard as the sole survivor.
In the aftermath, Bernard was taken in by his Uncle Thomas, a reclusive figure living in the hinterlands of the village. Thomas, an aging man with few words and a somber demeanor, was mourning the loss of his brother and his brother's family. Despite the circumstances, he provided Bernard with shelter and care, yet the shadows of grief lingered heavily within the walls of their home.
As the years passed, Bernard began to heal, his wit emerging alongside a burgeoning curiosity about the world. Under Uncle Thomas's watchful eye, he thrived, growing into a thoughtful and competent young man. They would often venture into the forest where Thomas imparted lessons in herbalism and the ancient craft of hunting. But beneath the surface, an undercurrent of something sinister lay coiled.
Their neighbors would watch the Uncle/Nephew duo with fond eyes. Their next door neighbors, a young couple by the names of John and Alice Conti, Italian immigrants, who would frequent the Binx household, claimed that the two were always full of joy, and had never witnessed anything suspicious or any indication that there was something wrong with them.
Charlie tilted his head, a strange feeling forming his gut as he continued to read. His eyes were scanning the page quickly, and his eyes were wide.
On the morning of Christmas, 1702, Alice Conti had traveled the short distance to the Binx household to deliver presents to the two, but was shocked to find the house completely deserted. The only sign that there had been anyone there, was a single mitten from Bernard, indicating that he had been outside before his strange disappearance. Inquiries made by concerned villagers yielded no answers. They searched the nearby woods, the riverbanks, and even questioned the locals, but it was as if the two had been swallowed whole by the earth itself.
Over the years, whispers of curses and dark magic began to cloud the once innocent tales of the Binx family's fortune. Locals speculated about strange lights seen flickering in the woods, and as months bled into years, the tragic disappearance of Bernard Binx remained an unsettling enigma, marked by loss and unanswered questions.
Seven years later, fate took a grim turn when the lifeless body of Uncle Thomas was discovered by a the McCormick family the morning of Christmas. Initial investigations revealed little—it appeared he had been attacked by a dog, it being assumed that it was the McCormick's dog, yet the circumstances surrounding his death or what he was doing at the McCormick residence remained shrouded in mystery. There were no signs of foul play, no nearby footprints indicating that someone had left him there—the only thing that had been found on Thomas Binx, was a single jingle bell.
The village grappled with the discovery, but the absence of Bernard lingered like a ghostly wisp in the air. Despite the conviction of local authorities, who could find no trace of him, hope was gradually abandoned. Bernard Binx became a name etched upon the cold pages of unsolved cases, a lost soul whose fate slipped silently into the realm of forgotten tales.
Time marched on, and the village altered around the absence of the Binx family. Children grew into adulthood, and the memory of Bernard and Thomas faded like a dream. Yet, as the world turned toward the dawn of the new century, the whispers of the woods remained—sometimes, just sometimes, a flicker of light was seen from the depths of the trees, as if a secret was waiting to be uncovered, a tragic story yearning to be finished.
Charlie felt the strange feeling worsen. He flipped through the pages of the story, his eyes frantically scanning the pages. Once he reached the last page, his eyes were wide at the picture that was printed onto the page.
'Uncle' Thomas and Bernard Binx, 1700. Three years before their disappearance.
Charlie recognized that face. That was Bernard. His Dad's Bernard. The elf. His eyes scanned the photo, trying to understand all of what he had just read.
Finally, after a moment, he snapped the book shut, and hurried up to the librarian, sliding it to her so he could check it out. His fingers tapped nervously against the side of his leg, and he gave a tight smile as the woman handed it back to him.
He ran out of the library, heading home, where he closed himself in his room, flipping through the book, confusion running through him. Bernard wasn't an actual elf? He-He was like Allie? Maybe this is why they had gotten off on the wrong foot. This was insane.
With his knew revelation, Charlie sat at his desk, his heart beating quickly. If this truly was Bernard, what did he do with this information? Who was he supposed to tell? Should he just keep it to himself?
Charlie sighed, grabbing a note book, deciding that he would do a deeper dive into Bernard, trying to see if he could crack this whole thing.
