"Are you sure you're gonna be alright on your own?"
Sarah lowered the phone against her chest. Her father was always like this – though she supposed it was his job to be worried. Biting her lip, she wrapped her finger around the telephone cord and sighed.
She could hear birds chirping loudly outside, settling down to drink from the stone fountain in the garden. The late afternoon sun was bathing the trees beyond the stone gate in a gentle orange light, and Sarah watched as the birds raised their wings and disappeared into tall, twisted branches of green. The sight made the corners of her lips twitch. If the birds could make this into a home, she thought to herself, then so could she. It would be her reward for sharing a house with her stepmother for so many years.
Sarah finally raised the handset against her ear once again with a huff; frustration always
settled easily when it came to her family. "I'm gonna be fine, dad."
"I know, honey, I know, it's just- well…it's always hard being alone, kid. Especially at your age. You don't even know anybody there, and you-"
"I like being alone."
Silence followed the interruption, but Sarah stared ahead with a stubborn streak, as if daring him to argue with her. Her father let out a long, heavy breath, and she could perfectly envision him pinching the bridge of his nose as if he was right in front of her. It was a gesture she was more than used to.
"I know you do, kid."
"I told you, I think being alone will be good for me."
"Yes. Yes, you did say that."
"So I really don't get what the problem is." They had spent her entire teenage years wishing she'd go away – she didn't understand where the sudden protectiveness came from. It certainly wasn't there during the last time they all saw each other.
"Sarah." The crack in his voice gave her pause. He sounded exhausted. For the moment of silence that followed, her furrowed brows softened and lips slightly parted, cold regret sipping into her features. She always did this, didn't she?
The girl was about to reassure him, ready to try to be gentle for a change – maybe even apologize – before his voice beat her to it with a sigh.
"Did you think about that…thing we discussed earlier, at least? Come on, kid, you haven't talked to Irene in months. It's…well, this whole thing's making her really upset."
The words made her crunch her nose. The smile that formed on her lips was angry and mirthless. "Oh, Irene's upset? That's novel of her. I was under the impression she didn't have a heart."
"Sarah, please don't talk about your stepmother like that."
"Emphasis on the 'step' part."
Her father's voice came low and full of warning. "You know she has never tried to be
anything other than that."
"No. She didn't."
It came out colder than she had expected; sharper. She did nothing to undo it, though.
The silence stretched between them like a large, deep precipice that neither of them were ready to acknowledge.
The more time he spent quiet, though, the more uncertain she became. After nearly all of their conversations, at least one of them always came out hurt; this time, though, after being furious with him for the last six months, she wasn't really angry enough to want that to be him. She opened her mouth to say something, anything that would stop the shame from growing within her chest– before she cleared her throat and snapped her mouth shut.
Her father sighed. "Irene said she was sorry, Sarah. About the incident. She- she feels really guilty. She misses you."
Sarah was sure she had stopped breathing for a moment. "Even if she's sorry, I have the right to still be hurt." He would never take her seriously, would he? He would never get it. "I just…I don't wanna see her yet, ok?"
The girl looked down, staring at her feet; her voice was a little above a whisper, already shaky. Tears swelled up in her eyes. "Can't you at least try to be on my side, just this once?"
"I am on your side, kiddo. Sometimes I don't really know if you are, too, though."
Sarah laughed, bitter and hoarse. "Yeah, I thought so. You always expect me to suck up everything she does."
"That's not–"
"You know what? I think you should go pay attention to your new family now and just leave me alone. They certainly need you a hell of a lot more than I do."
She slammed the handset into base without thinking, left alone with nothing but her own uneven breath. There was no sound of chirping to keep her company now.
It was always like this; she was always alone in the end. But, then again, whose fault was that?
It would be the right thing to call him back. Looking back, he had been as upset about the whole thing as she did. Sarah knew that, and for a moment she actually glanced at the telephone, grimacing.
Whenever regret pushed her dangerously close to making amendments, though, she could always count on her pride to stop her from reaching out, and it was enough to make her turn away from the phone, breathing unevenly. He had been the one to disrespect her by defending Irene in the first place. She shouldn't feel guilty for standing her ground. He should be the one to reach out to her.
Sarah tried to rub the burning away from her eyes, unwilling to cry even when there was no one around to watch. The cottage was at least a good thirty minutes of walking away from the nearest house – she was as alone as could be.
She took a deep breath to calm her racing heartbeat, inhaling and exhaling as slowly as she could. When she looked down, though, her hands were still shaking, her heart clenching within her ribcage. She lifted a hand, taking a handful of her shirt into her sweaty palms.
She didn't know why she even bothered trying to make him understand her side when her father always chose her stepmother in the end. She shouldn't be surprised, yet it hurt anyway.
"I hate this", she mumbled to herself, sighing. "So fucking stupid."
She ran her fingers through sleek brown hair with a groan. She could use a distraction, tired of thinking about her dad and his family and her dumb feelings. Maybe she'd watch TV or phone someone, but she couldn't think of anybody to talk to – the mere idea of crying in front of her college friends, even the ones who were hundreds of miles away, made her stomach churn with embarrassment. The television wasn't working properly yet; she had only just finished unpacking her things a few hours earlier. The one-bedroom place was finally cozy and somewhat clean, but after a whole day of burrowing in it, maybe she could use some time outside while it was still sunny out. She would go crazy staring at these walls all day.
A black cat meowed from his spot on the top shelf, trying to get her attention. The chonky ball of fur was lazily lying down, rolling over in the way he knew she thought was cute. She giggled, picking him up.
He melted on her lap, closing his eyes as she petted his head.
"What do you think I should do, Puck?"
The cat did not respond, but it did stare unblinking into her eyes for a good minute before jumping away to take a nap on her bed. She smiled.
The man who had sold her the cottage mentioned a trail that went from the house to a lake deep in the woods, but she hadn't had the time to take it yet. The idea of clear, still waters and a lake all to herself madd her perk up. With one final peak outside, she got out of her lazy-people clothes, opened the back gate and headed into the forest before she had the time to change her mind.
Crisp, refreshing air immediately filled her lungs; she could smell the remnants of the earlier rain lingering in the damp moss, making the earth squish beneath her feet. Above her, tree branches closed in, thick layers of leaves making the light that filtered through scarce and distant. A few tree trunks had fallen amid the path during the last storm, and she jumped over them without giving them much thought. The few sunbeams that found her were warm against her skin.
Somewhere to her left, she could hear chiming sounds, and she turned her head to see a mushroom ring just a few steps away from the muddy path. Sarah made a point to not get anywhere near it, superstition sinking its teeth into her skin.
After only a little over fifteen minutes of walking, a rabbit came out of its den on the ground, ruffling its ears with a yawn. When it noticed Sarah's stare, though, it hopped into the inside of one of the hollow trunks, and Sarah didn't even have to think before scurrying closer to take a peak.
Dead leaves crunched beneath her boots, soles already covered in dirt. She was two feet away from the trunk when she noticed the marks drawn across it.
They had been carved deep, nearly creating holes in the wood. There were four of them, parallel to the ground and measuring at least half of Sarah's height. Without thinking, she stretched out a hand and drew a finger through the bigger cavities, gaze wondering. If the girl didn't know any better, she'd say they had been caused by talons. Sarah could even imagine a beast, claws as large as her forearms, yellowed teeth sharp enough to bite into her chest and still stick out from her back. Like most monsters that had trailed her mind's eye, she imagined it lurking, watching from behind – or perhaps making itself small and seemingly fragile, something she'd be inclined to find helpless and worthy of care. The idea was silly, though. Maybe material for her stories, if the children were in the mood for something spooky. Not something to actually believe in. Even if there weren't any animals around these parts that were large enough to cause such damage, she was sure there was…another explanation.
Maybe the tree had hit or scraped against something as it fell. Yes, that made sense. A perfectly logical line of thinking.
Still, something within Sarah was a little less inclined to go looking for clear lagoons and hidden bunnies now. She looked around, peering behind trees and rocks, though she wasn't sure what she was looking for. The large quietude she found did little to calm her nerves, however.
A twig snapped, startling her enough to make her jump in surprise. Behind her, she could hear the ruffling of leaves alongside the gentle breeze making its way through the air, creating a soft melody. Soothing like a lullaby. It reminded her of when she was young and someone would sing to her, a soft high hum to muffle the sounds of screaming she'd rather ignore. She couldn't remember who was singing, though, nor why there had been anyone screaming in the first place.
Wondering what the forest's melody was hiding, she turned around to make her way back home.
And the path was gone.
The worn out trail of dirt that had been there moments before had vanished, taking with it the soft mud beneath Sarah's feet. She paused. Had she wandered off without realizing it? Searching through her mind, she couldn't recall ever diverging from the path; she rubbed her eyes, certain that it would be there again the moment she opened them up. That perhaps her eyes had tricked her, somehow; to No avail. The girl glanced around and was met with nothing but an infinitude of trees and grass, both uninterested in guiding her home and being of no help whatsoever.
At a loss, she walked in the direction she thought was the one she had come from, though even of that she was uncertain.
Looking for the way back, none of the trees seemed particularly familiar to her, but then again she wasn't one to pay attention to trees. Perhaps she should do so from now on. The hot afternoon was beginning to take its toll on her – sweat was starting to drip down her skin, trailing through the back of her neck. The sun would begin to set soon, and Sarah had no idea what she'd do if she hadn't found the house until then. It'd be impossible to find her bearings in the pitch black darkness.
She spotted a man crouched down in the distance almost half an hour later, tending to what looked like a small plantation. Sarah let out a sigh of relief, shoulders slumping down from their place by her ears, and ran towards the person, desperate for any sort of help. "Excuse me, mister! Hello!"
When he got up, Sarah noticed how short he was – the dwarf barely reached her arms. "Oh, sorry. Hm, I didn't mean to interrupt, but I just moved and- well, I think I might be lost. Could you help me?"
He shrugged. "I could." Then, he crouched down again, calmly placing a handful of seeds in the set of holes he had dug. He hummed to himself. When it became clear he wasn't going to say anything else, she cleared her throat.
He looked back in annoyance. "So?"
"I need to find a way back home."
"Well, I can see that."
Sarah held back a groan, not trying to be impolite. "Do you know these woods? Do you know the way?"
"Depends. Where to?"
"The cottage on Maple street, nearing town. It's, hum, at the edge of the woods."
The man pondered, and the wrinkles between his brows deepened as he nodded to himself. "Yes. Yes, I know the place."
Sarah's eyes lit up. "Yeah?"
"Yeah."
The dwarf began to hum again, digging with his bare hands before gently placing another seed amid the soil. Then, he closed it up, tapping it gently before nodding with a smile.
He got up, and the girl expectantly watched as he moved onto the next hole, not even looking behind to acknowledge her.
Sarah snapped. "Well? Are you going to help me or not?"
He scoffed, digging again. "You never asked for my help. You asked me if I could help."
Sarah could feel her eyes begin to twitch. "Well, can you help me get back home then?"
The man raised an eyebrow, staring into her eyes with a silent request.
She sighed. "...please."
A smile took over his expression, carrying with it something that almost resembled pride. "Now, that's better." Getting up, he rubbed his palms against his pants to clean off the dirt and pointed to the land behind her. "You go south 'till ya' hit the big tree with the lovey-dovey heart carvings. Go left then and there's ya' home."
Sarah let out a relieved breath, her smile finally reaching her eyes. "Thank you."
He raised a hand dismissively, already getting back to work.
She fidgeted. "Um, I'm Sarah by the way. I guess we're neighbors–or, well, as close as you can get to a neighbor around here."
"Hmpt. Shows you how little you know"
"I'm sorry?"
"We have plenty neighbors here, that's for sure."
Sarah was beginning to think this guy might be insane. Despite it, though, her mother had raised her to always make a good first impression. Therefore, she straightened, forcing herself to smile. "So, what's your name?"
He turned to Sarah in a swift motion and marched towards her, making her take a step back as he pointed a jabby finger in her direction. "You can't have it, ya' hear me, missy? The name's mine!"
The girl blinked. "Okay, ummm–'' She could deal with superstitious people. Definitely. "Can I…know your name?"
He raised a bushy eyebrow at her, studying her for a moment. He must have not considered her a threat, after all, because he went straight back to his gardening, turning his back as if she was never even there.
Sarah was ready to give up and walk away when his voice returned, albeit hesitant. "Hoggle. Call me Hoggle."
She smiled. "It's…nice to meet you Hoggle."
He only groaned in response, dismissing her again.
She snickered. "Guess I'll see around."
The girl was a good ten feet away when he screamed something back, his raspy voice echoing through the woods. "Careful with hunters out there!" A mirthless scoff escaped his lips, like it was some sort of inside joke. "Sometimes they go after the wrong folk."
Sarah's blood ran cold inside her veins.
She kept on walking without looking back, more eager than ever to go back home.
—--
There was something in the woods.
No one could convince Sarah otherwise. It was something she knew she'd find silly when she woke up in the morning, but right now she could hear the sounds coming from beyond her bedroom window: the same high hum she had listened earlier cut through the chill breeze alongside the rustling of leaves and the hooting of owls. It was enough to make her heart beat faster, anxiety seeing into her bones.
There were growls now, too, closer than she'd ever want them to be. If she pressed her eyes shut, she could picture a bear growling on its hind legs just close enough to smell her scent, or a lone gray wolf baring its teeth, mouth drooling with promise and belly filled with hunger; dangers untold. The picture of fangs gripping flesh did nothing to soothe her racing heartbeat, and Sarah got up one last time to check if she had locked everything up, bolts secured in place. The wind whistled as it reached the glass, high-pitched and harmonic like a song against the starry sky.
Sarah pulled the curtains over the window with a swing, thoroughly disinterested.
It was her first week living by herself and Sarah was perfectly aware that, had she chosen to live in the apartment her dad has offered to pay for in the city, she'd probably be just as frightened, worrying about hypothetical burglars instead of hypothetical animals or ghosts or whatever. Oh, and she did fear the idea of it being a ghost. It'd be just her luck to find out the secluded cottage, abandoned since before the cold war and decorated as such, was also home to angry ghosts. The creaky floorboards and pitch black darkness did nothing to disprove that theory, though, or perhaps Sarah just wasn't really used to the absence of the ever-present city lights and boisterous noises just yet.
On the bright side, it was quiet there. Private. Additionally, the only thing she could afford without her father's help. She had been saving up since she was fifteen, not even accepting his money to help pay off her student loans – she would have preferred to cut her own arm off before she allowed herself to owe him anything else into her adult years.
The girl huffed, shifting on the bed once again while she waited for sleep to come. She could smell the forest even with the windows closed: lavender and wet soil crept into her haunted sanctuary, and for a moment it was enough to dissipate the churning feeling lodged in her stomach. She breathed in and out, finally sinking into the mattress with even breaths. Sarah hadn't even noticed how tired she was until her muscles melted into the fluffy blankets, warm and cozy like a fireplace in the snow. She sighed.
The minute of serenity was taken over when howling came from outside, drawn out and clear.
Her eyes widened, all promise of rest quickly forgotten. Fingers trembled as she grasped the bedsheets, inhaling desperately as if all air was suddenly gone from her lungs. Her entire body was screaming for her to run, to go to the town and ask for help, to do anything except stay there like a meal on a platter. Another part of her though, smaller and fearful, just wanted to hide beneath the sheets and wait until whatever thing was haunting her forgot she was there.
While she was stuck between both courses of action, a new sound made every muscle on her body freeze, eyes wide and frantic. She stood up with a yelp.
There was a knock at the door.
Three knocks, to be precise, as if whatever was out there was also very concerned about being impolite.
Sarah's breath caught in her throat. The world was tilted and shaken, and her stomach churned as if she was falling right out of it. Was there any chance of there being an actual explanation for that? Someone lost perhaps, or paying her a visit? Sarah's breath quickened beyond her control at that thought. No one but her family had her address – her family, who she wasn't speaking to and who lived almost five hours away. The road that led to the cottage was as secluded as the house itself, leading to no neighboring towns or villages. Who would ever come here?
She could barely process what was happening. There was another set of knocks, and before the sound could echo for the third and final time, she was already hiding beneath the bed, palm shaking against her lips to muffle choking sobs.
With a creek, she heard the door open and pressed her eyes shut, taken over by the irrational notion that whatever was out there wouldn't see her if she couldn't see it.
Sarah couldn't stop herself from hearing it walk through the short corridor, however. The sound kept getting louder, and she couldn't help but open her eyes to witness two black shoes standing in the hallway, belonging to two seemingly normal human feet. Somehow, that only served to scare her more. The idea of a vicious bloodthirsty ghost seemed somehow less frightening than a man invading her home.
The intruder –man?– walked slowly, inspecting the space, taking its time as it crept its way through her house. It made no sound. Had she been able to fall asleep, would she have even noticed it was there at all?
The person reached the doorway to her room, stopping by the threshold with a sense of finality. Now that it was close, she could make out the shoes it was wearing – black, formal and tied in a perfectly looped ribbon. It looked like he was wearing a suit.
When it called out her name, she felt her heart leap out of her throat.
"Sarah? Darling, are you home?"
It was her father.
It mimicked his accent, the sweet worried inflection he used to use when he was worried, the sharp ways he pronounced his 'D's. Sarah snapped her eyes close shut, feeling her entire body shake with an intensity she had never even dreamed of before. Her muscles hurt, twitching beyond control.
Silence stretched out time, hours compressed into minutes, maybe seconds. She couldn't keep track. Maybe the thing was gone. Maybe she'd open her eyes and snap back to reality, her real reality, with no monsters or ghosts or men for company. No longer able to bear the not knowing, she opened her eyelids.
And a hundred eyes stared back at her.
The creature looked like her father in almost every way. Thin lips, a dimple in his chin, roman nose, low set eyebrows: the spit image of the man who had raised her, except for its eyes. They covered his entire face, cheeks, forehead and even the hand it was using to hold itself up, crouched to peek into her hiding spot. When it noticed her staring, it smiled, though its grin never seemed to reach any of its eyes.
Sarah screamed, struggling even before he stretched out his hand to yank her from beneath the furniture. She could feel the eyes in its palms blink, irritated by the harsh contact. The creature's grin widened. It pinned her in place, legs straddled on top of her and hands gripped around her wrists, squeezing it hard enough to bruise. She scratched and bit his skin with primal ferocity, kicking and thrashing while searching for an opening to run.
Sarah never thought she'd be so happy at the sight of fresh blood trailing down skin, crimson and holy like a nightmare's end. Before she could get out of its grasp, though, she noticed something squishy and wet on the ground near her fingers. A large red puddle stained the carpet beneath it.
One of its eyes.
Sarah felt a surge of vomit bubbling at her throat, vision becoming unfocused and dizzy like her mind itself rejected the sight. It was enough of a pause to give the creature the upper hand again, even as it hissed in pain and bled above her. It hit her head against the floorboards and kneeled, hands closing in on her throat. It was still smiling, and it terrified her in how absolutely ordinary the quirk in his lips looked - just like her father's, warm and slightly crooked.
She kicked it, trying to claw his hands away from her throat. It was no use. Her nails tore at his hands, desperate and weak as she felt the air leave her body. Dizziness blurred her vision. The pressure in his grip was enough to make her whimper, though it was barely loud enough to be heard. Her hands went limp.
'I am dying', she thought to herself. In a last moment of consciousness, something other than dread coursed through her veins, powerful enough to make her finally rest into the thing's vice-like grip.
Relief.
At least it wasn't her fault. She had tried her best – her best just hadn't been enough. Now, at least, she didn't have anything else to worry about. Selfishly, she hoped her father would hurt a little; she wondered if he'd feel guilty, too, after she died. She wondered if it would be any worse than losing her mother, though it probably wouldn't be.
She closed her eyes.
And the thing released her.
'Maybe I'm already dead', she reasoned, even though she could still feel the carpet tickling against her arms. Maybe she had passed out. At least the pain had subsided. At least her father was gone. She hoped it wouldn't take long for others to find her body because someone needed to feed Puck. Her thoughts drifted in the space between consciousness and sleep, and in the darkness Sarah felt no sadness or grief. Not even her feelings fit into that small corner of her mind, and for that she was glad.
That was until something shook her frame, fingertips gripping into her forearms. She refused to wake up, mildly aware of her surroundings. Couldn't they just let her rest?
The person holding her huffed.
Slowly, she felt two arms lift her up, one below her knees and the other circling her back. Without questioning who it was, she leaned into the touch, settling in their lap as she laid her head into the crook of their neck and wrapped her arms around them, eyes still closed.
She tugged at their clothes. "Is my dad gone?"
"Yes. I sent him away, now." The voice was low, almost hypnotic.
She hummed in response. "Good."
The man who was carrying her began moving; she could hear his footsteps, listen to his breathing beside hers.
In his voice, there was a grin. "You owe me now."
It was the last thing Sarah remembered before the blurry line between reality and sleep became solid again. With a tired sigh, she allowed herself to be carried away.