Hello, everybody. I hope you're all having a good morning like I am.

Still, more inspiration mean more chapters. Even though this one came out of the blue, I'm gonna finish it. Since the plot bunnies haven't finished their romping about in my mind, I got plenty of ideas for each and every one of my stories. The problem is finding the time to type it all down.

And so, without further ado, Enjoy.

Disclaimer: Don't own a thing, but I like putting up a weird plot.

Little Clues

Remember when I said that I hated mornings with a passion?

Well… maybe I was being a bit too specific. And maybe a little dramatic about it. Don't get me wrong, I still hate the sunrise. But it's deeper than that.

I have a really hard time getting started on stuff. This rule of mine applies to a lot of things in my life. Hell, it took me a whole year of prodding and begging from friends and family before I went on my first 'official' date with Kristoff.

Everything seems to act like base-jumping to me. It's hard to actually convince myself to jump off the cliff in the first place, but when I do, the worries fall away and the puzzle pieces fall into place…

…But the thing about base-jumping is that you have to place your faith into a flimsy piece of nylon called a parachute. If it doesn't open the first time, then you are done for. So, it's in your best interest to make sure to pack that nylon correctly.

Even though it may sound like a bit of a stretch, my mornings are like that no matter where I live.

So, I wasn't too surprised that the day after I've moved into the new home, I woke up late. My first clue should have been the little but bright streams of light that peak through my new bedroom curtains. Naturally, my brain decided to ignore that and fall right back to sleep because sleep was far too beautiful to miss and the day's surprises could wait a little bit longer.

It usually takes four different alarms to finally make my lazy ass crawl itself from my bed. On that day, it took my mother-in-law nearly dragging me off of the bed before my body woke up.

Sometimes, no one can ever appreciated Bulda's strength until they're literally thrown over her shoulder. When I was awake enough to ask, I found out that I was awaken at noon.

It took a moment for that to sink in. Literally, it did, since I hadn't slept in that late since before the twins were born. After my little déjà vu moment had passed, my mother-in-law finally convinced me out of bed with the promise of a home-cooked breakfast.

…Well, brunch, but you know what I meant.

Anyways, I know that all of this probably seems all dull and lifeless of an intro. I mean, who wants to hear a speeded up version of some anonymous woman's life? As much as I like reading, I'd probably skip that book, too.

But after the whole rush of the pregnancy, the party, the house, and every other emotional turn that one woman can handle had started to fade, things started to pop up.

Nothing too noticeable at first, but it added up slowly, but steadily.

It took an entire week before I could finally act like a normal mom and start doing things with my little boys. The labor did much more damage than I'd ever like to go through again, which left me much weaker after my return. However, it only took a glance at my baby boy to reassure me that it was worth it, for the moments I spent with Elijah were priceless. Especially when he was asleep.

At first, I never taken the time to notice his sleeping patterns. My experience with Olaf and Marshall had prepared me for the weeks of the oddest sleep cycles to mankind. It was only after my mother-in-law mentioned a little snip of detail, did I really see an odd fact: Elijah never sleeps alone.

A crib was already bought and set up within his own room, but its use was not truly appreciated. Even when whomever he was with at the time was sure that Elijah was asleep, the moment he was left alone in his crib, he awakens. The small radio in his room made sure that we heard his sharp cries. The motherly instincts in me and Bulda could never stand to hear them, and immediately entered. When either of us had him in our arms, Elijah would quiet down immediately.

Bulda tried to fix this by bringing in an old relic of a rocking chair with her, so someone could stay with Elijah as he slept. The deep grains and sturdy build just screamed 'family antique', so I made a big fuss on her giving it to me. She merely shrugged it off and said it was for the boys. As nonchalant as she tries to be about it, I knew that the chair belonged to her late father who she loved and missed dearly.

I only backed down after clearly stating that the old seat was still hers even though I was using it.

Staying with him in the room helped to keep Elijah asleep for longer periods of time, but we could not always do that. Summer was ending and school supplies had to be bought, Kristoff had his job, and as much as I appreciated everything Bulda had done so far, she still had her own children to look after. I could sometimes catch her calling back home and more than once did I welcome Bulda's family into my home as they visited her.

Yet, all things must come to an end. After the first month and a half, Bulda left and school started, leaving me truly alone with Elijah for the first time.

It was then that his sleeping patterns really started to show as he truly would not sleep alone. Though he had started to sleep more during the night, he still had to take naps during the day. Even if I tried to put him in his crib for a nap, he would wake up and scream his tiny lungs out the moment I left the room. The little radio made sure that I always knew that.

Even though the rocking chair allowed me to sit comfortably in his room, I still had responsibilities around the house. A home this big had to have someone having the time to clean every square inch of the place. I thought that I would have the time to do that, but with Elijah's sleeping patterns, I was lucky if I could do laundry without the radio firing up with noise. In the end, I gave up and assembled a stroller that my cousin gave me for the post baby shower and soon, Elijah ended up sleeping more in that stroller than he did in his own crib.

With that problem fixed up, I forgot about his weird habit and I began to take Elijah with me all over the house as I worked. The bathroom, kitchen, laundry room, all the bedrooms, and even my office were visited by the little stroller.

Balancing a mom, an author, and a wife was no easy task, but practice helped a lot during those days. Also having Olaf, Marshall, and Kristoff helping out at any chance they could certainly eased my mind. But during school and work hours, I managed well on my own. My balancing act became so good that I started taking Elijah outdoors.

Being cooped up for weeks on end was a quick way to drive me crazy, so I took little walks around the area. After taking my first solid look on the place, it was a pretty easy to compliment it considering the location. The forest looked bright with life and from one of the highest hills, I could just make out the buildings of the nearby city. The next door farmers seem to be doing great with whatever they're growing as the bushes' leaves gleamed green and little bell-shaped flowers twinkled into small berries.

As we began to ease into the new house, we all started to discover more little hints of oddness. Nothing really major or insanely wrong. It was just little complaints that sprung up here and there.

Kristoff often complained about some animal hair being stuck to his clothes while others were disappearing altogether. We could never guess at where the hair had come from, because we didn't own any pets, and after a search through the laundry revealed nothing of the disappearances.

I can still remember how the slim strands of fur really stood out with their white hue as I went outside to the drying lines and saw his favorite black tee absolutely covered with it. I also remembered why there was sometimes an odd number of socks hung to dry when I clearly remembered their being even numbers.

Olaf, being my adventurer, immediately assumed that it had to be the work of an albino squirrel. Don't ask me how or why; Olaf just knew.

I didn't even have time to facepalm before Olaf led Marshall outside to search for more evidence. Belatedly, I called out the reminders of my outside rules as the two raced away into an adventure. As much as Olaf and Marshall loved the woods, I always made sure that they understood to keep themselves near the edge and in site of the house.

Another oddity occurred while my boys were still on their quest for the albino squirrel. Knowing that the two of them would be out for hours on end, I always made sure to supply those adventures. The Lunchables snacks and water bottles were always placed within Marshall's explorer pack.

Well, one day, the two returned home with bundles of ripped plastic and told me that something ate their lunch. Apparently, Marshall left his pack on the forest floor to help Olaf with climbing up a tree. After evidence of the albino squirrel remained elusive, the two had returned to the ground and were hungry. But before they could eat their lunch, they saw that something else ate it.

They returned home with the ripped up packaging with hungry bellies. Being overstocked with Lunchables packets, I just gave them another and as they ate, I looked over it.

The slim plastic on top was torn to shreds on both of the packets. The harder plastic that made up the tray was scratched up a bit but not completely destroyed. The food had clearly been tampered with by something: the slices of ham were completely gone, the slices of cheese were nibbled on by sharp teeth, and the Oreo cookies had the crème licked off by a small tongue. The only piece of food that survived unharmed were the salty Ritz crackers.

And overall the packets, slim white hairs clung on to any surface that it could.

There wasn't a single doubt in my mind: something was out there. And it was definitely a lot bigger than a squirrel. Albino…maybe.

At that time, I could not really look into what had done this. Looking after an infant was no easy task, so I had to wait until I had time. Meanwhile, I had put strict to both Marshall and Olaf to not return to the forest. It wasn't too hard, since school took up much of their attention, but my little Olaf was upset. It was only after I gave a Scout Girl's promise as to continue his dedicated investigation that Olaf cheered up enough to play in the front yard.

But to be completely honest, with or without that promise, I was going to find out. It was only during the hours just before bed did I have the time to pick and place the little breadcrumb of clues together,

One. Whatever it was, it was outside. All the clothes must have caught the fur or had been stolen by being hung out to dry. Since we only used the dryer machine on the rainy days,

Two. It's not a rodent because squirrels can't have the claws capable enough to dent and break the plastic around the food.

Three. It's not a vegetarian, because of the stolen Lunchables food being the ham itself. It loved that pork.

Four. If it's outside, then it could be bothering Elijah while he tries to sleep. Since his room does have rather large windows, it wouldn't be hard to see something through the pane.

Five. Possibly albino from the white fur.

A very odd array of clues, but I couldn't find out how they fit together. And during those hours where my head began to chase itself around, I could only think of one thing.

How in the hell am I going to find something that acts like a ghost?

AN. I know, I know. Not many people are attracted to this, but I really can't stop thinking about this story. I would almost call it annoying, since I can only focus on my other tales when this one has been attended to.

This is pushing back my other works, but I won't let it stop me. A little more juggling work for me, but I'll live. And with all of that juggling, I think I'll be able to do a double update next week. Just have to make that final push to the finish. In the meantime, I hope the mystery in this chapter will be enjoyed.

Still, do you all have any ideas onto what the little creature can be? ;)

And as always: concerns, comments and informed critiques are always welcomed around here.

So, until next time, Au revoir.

P.S. DAMN YOU, PLOT BUNNIES!