GRETHEL

ACHT | ELISABETH

The night was intrusive. It knocked at the window, tip-tap, all night long, when the house was asleep and only a pair of suspicious ears could bear witness. Sometimes it breathed mist against the glass and whispered.

Tonight, Elisabeth found it in her room.

The night lingered in the corners. It stared down at her, and she stared back. It wasn't real after all, not like her at least; it didn't breathe or think or move on its own, it didn't eat children as the bedtime stories claimed or haunt widows, and nothing lurked in it. Moonlight broke through the window and spilled across the floorboards, and the night backed away.

Pushing back her quilt, she dangled her legs from the bed and sighed. She retrieved a glass of water from the kitchen, creaking across the wooden floorboards in the silence that surrounded the house, having retrieved a stool to reach the high-hidden cups, now placing it back with that wood-on-wood screech, and rubbed against the sleep in her eyes. The house was asleep and didn't like being awoken at such an ungodly hour.

Sipping her water, she returned to her bed, placed the glass at her bedside, and climbed in. All was quiet, but usual.

A coldness brushed against her skin. A breeze caught her hair and ruffled it. She didn't remember the window being open, Brigitte must've opened it. Shrugging, she snuggled back into her quilt and–

A shadow crossed her wooden floor.

Elisabeth sat up. "Papa?"

Brigitte was fast asleep in her bed, lashes spilling down her cheeks, still bundled in her blanket. She hadn't moved.

Elisa approached the window on steady feet, drawing back the curtain and peering into the darkness. Her face stared back, tinted a spectral blue, but there was no one outside. She was about to pull the window to when she saw it. There, rustling in the underbrush. A cry. A fox, perhaps, in need of help, or another small animal that was hurt.

Tugging her coat from the hangar, she winced as it boomed against the floor, but no one woke, and so she shrugged it on and retrieved a fresh pillar candle from the table. The wax smelled of nature (the bay-berry shrub according to mama) and Elisabeth found it favourable, despite the candles rarely being lit. For this occasion, she rummaged the upper cupboards, again utilising the stool, until she came across a box of matches.

It took a few strikes to light, but when it did, a flame fizzled to life and painted the walls like the sunset. Once the candle was lit, she extinguished the flame on the tabletop and ventured outside.

Milo, the family dobermann, lay obediently in his kennel, eyes scouring the woods to no avail. The rustling had stopped, but faintly a whimpering could still be heard.

Despite her thick coat, the night was cold. The wind threatened to blow out the flame in her hands, but the candle remained stubborn. There was enough light to see from the moon, and the pond glowed silver in its abundance. Her first step crunched against the grass, she paused, and Milo lifted his head to look at her. Suddenly, it didn't seem like such a grand idea, it was probably nothing, but what if it was an animal in need of her help?

The woods couldn't hurt her. It was just trees. Stupid trees.

Steeling herself, she walked the length of the garden, cupping the delicate flame with her hand as the wind tried ardently to blow it out, howling now, and the trees grew to giants the closer she got. She couldn't see beneath them for the darkness was a solid wall.

The whimpering was louder here, and it came from a small bush at the edge of the woods' territory.

Elisa crouched before it and set down the candle. Frost dusted the grass and seeped into her skin. Slowly, she crawled towards the bush, breath turning white before her, nails digging into the ground. The trees hung over her. A shadow spread over her small frame.

She drew back the leaves and–

A timid fox pup yelped.

The air rushed into her lungs and she sat back, laughing. There was nothing to be afraid of. The pup was a beautiful burnished colour, with great black eyes and a snow white patch on its fuzzy tail. It cried like a baby. "Come here." She reached for it, but in a panic, it retreated into the forest.

Elisa gathered up her candle and followed. She didn't hear the clink of Milo's chain.

Beneath her feet, the dirt was soft. She pushed another curtain of leaves from her path. Silver painted the bark of the trees, mixing with the orange glow of candlelight, and she watched the shadows paint terrible faces across the trees – like the monsters in Edvard's books. She shivered at the sudden cold.

"Fox. Fox?"

It was nowhere to be seen. Her mission was futile.

Sighing, she turned to leave, but realised she was hopelessly lost.

It all looked the same: trees, trees, and more trees. She spun in circles and cradled the candle to her chest. The branches lurched down on her and closed ranks. Her breathing faltered. Silent, so silent. It smelled of... bread.

The candle blew out.

She ran for the treeline, a blind guess at where she'd come from, but the roots grabbed at her feet and dragged her down. She clawed between them, watching the pond glow brighter and brighter the closer she got. It was just a forest. Just a forest.

Milo rose and barked.

She scrambled from the treeline, candle gone, lost, and pulled her knees up to herself. A sob rose in her chest and broke from her trembling lips, tears welled in her eyes.

The forest was just a forest.

Just a forest, it rustled. Just a forest, it groaned.

Just a forest...

She screamed.

❖

updating whilst I'm off school lol