Things are moved in my room at night while I'm asleep. Every morning I find all the clothes in my drawers have been swapped around, and my hairbrush, instead of being in the cupboard, is on the shelf with my dolls. My shoes are taken from the wardrobe and put under my bed in two separate lines. Right shoes on one side and left shoes on the other.
I was very scared at first, but it's gone on for some time now so I've learned to treat it like a game. Of course, I told my mum and dad about it, but they just scoffed, giving each other knowing looks like I wasn't there. When I persisted with my stories, they took me to the doctor's. After a thorough examination, - he looked in my ears, eyes, down my throat and put his stethoscope to my chest and back - he pronounced me fit as a fiddle, and then suggested that I be taken to see the local priest.
Leaving the surgery on that day, all my mum could talk about was the shame of it all. I think she meant having a daughter who entertained ghosts or something. My dad just went down to the pub muttering about keeping it to ourselves.
Eventually my mum dragged me along to see the priest, who listened to my story with great gravity. Well, at least he didn't laugh. "Have you seen anyone in your room, Katy?" He then asked me. "No, Father," I replied. "You don't get disturbed?" "No, Father." "Hmmm," he then rubbed his chin. "Katy, wait outside, would you," he pointed toward the door. I hate it when adults talk about you, but won't let you listen. After all, it was my problem. A little later my mum came out looking both worried and puzzled. I stared at her, waiting for an answer. "We'll go home now, Katy," she said. "And?" "And, I'll have to talk to your father first."
That was it. We went home, and while my parents might have spoken to each other about it, they didn't say a word to me. Finally I had to ask. "What did the priest say?" My mother replied, "It's not for your ears." What a waste of time.
The next time I saw the priest, all he did was ask if I was ok. And the doctor didn't send for me to administer a miracle cure. It was like banging my head against a brick wall, so I stopped talking about it. Meanwhile, every morning I played a game of hunt the clothes before I went to school. Then I got the flu. It swept through our school and I was laid up in bed in no time. For three days and two nights I felt bad, but then the fever broke and I began the slow process of getting better.
While I was ill, the dimmer switch in my room was kept on low, so that third night, when the sound of someone singing very softly woke me from my light sleep, I was able to see what was going on. I lay there on my side not moving, watching him fuss about. He was about twenty-five centimetres tall, wearing a check shirt and grey trousers, and had a white beard that went down to his chest. Totally absorbed in shifting and fussing with my clothes, he didn't realise that he had woken me up. I felt no fear when I lifted myself up on one elbow and whispered, "Hello, you're happy." He jumped in the air and came back down on his bottom. Slowly he turned his head and looked at me, fear and worry on his little face.
"So you're the one who has been moving all my belongings and causing me lots of problems." "Oh, you can see me. Oh, I've been caught out. I'm not supposed to be seen or caught. I'm in trouble now. Oh my, oh my, I'm in big trouble now." He spoke quickly, almost to himself. "I won't tell if you won't," I said. I couldn't help but like him. He was sweet and gentle looking. He cocked his head on one side and said, "You won't?" I smiled, "No, I won't, that's a real promise." "How do I know if you'll keep your promise?" One hand rested on his hip. "You don't, but why would I want you to go away, now that I've seen you? You're obviously special, even if you do cause a lot of mischief," I laughed. He looked up at me, speaking quickly again. "Do you mean it? Really, really mean it? Because I could get into so much trouble if you made a fuss and such." "I do mean it and anyway, aren't you a just a little bit curious about me, because I'm very curious about you." I paused. "It must get very lonely night after night, working on your own." That did it. It was like turning on a tap. He came over, sat in one of my slippers and started talking. And didn't stop for the rest of the time I managed to stay awake.
The next day I could hardly contain my excitement. I wanted to tell my parents all about my little visitor, but I knew that I would probably be wasting my time if I did. I could just imagine my parents sitting up waiting for him to appear and then scoffing when he failed to show.
That night a slight cough woke me and there he was, sitting in my slipper, the same as before. "I must have fallen asleep." "Indeed you did." "I'm glad you came back." "It couldn't be any way otherwise." I puzzled on that, but said nothing. "Can I ask you some questions?" "Thought you might." "What's your name?" "Timothy, and yours is Kathleen." He paused. "It's written on all the labels in your school clothes." I smiled. "The next question is." "Why do I mess things up?" He interrupted. "Yes, why do you?" "Because I have to. It's how we can come back. Sort of a contractual agreement. No mess, no trip." I thought about that, but I don't think I entirely understood. "Where do you come from?" "Here. We've always been here; it's just that we are never supposed to be seen, although it's rumoured amongst us that we have been glimpsed from time to time by your good selves. Tales have been told and retold about it for centuries." "Centuries?" "Yes. As I said, we have always been here." "But where do you live? "Ah, thought you would ask that. It's a hard one to answer. Something to do with parallel worlds intertwining. Side by side and all that." "Can we come to your world?" "No." "So how do you come over to ours?" "Hmmm. Well, special people like you are the only ones who can have Visitors. Your age and, what shall we say, your aura, give us a portal to come through. You know what a portal is?" I shook my head. "A portal is an entrance, a door or a place which we can pass through to get here." "But why can't we pass through it to your side?" "Because you're not allowed to, and furthermore, it has never, ever, been done." He started to get bothered. "There are definitely no stories about big people coming over. We visit you, not the other way round. Hrrump." "Sorry, I didn't mean to upset you. I was just curious. You know so much about us and we know so little about you. Just fairy stories, I suppose." "Fairy stories!" he exclaimed. "Fairy stories? We're not fairies. We have nothing to do with them. Stupid creatures!" "Oh, so do they exist, then?" "Oh, my goodness, oh, my goodness! I never said that." He was speaking quickly again. "You never heard me. Oh dear, oh dear. I shall have to use up more magic dust before I leave and I don't have a lot left. Precious, precious. Oh dear." "What's magic dust?" He jumped off my slipper with a cry of frustration and started hopping and skipping around the room, talking to himself all the time. I strained to listen and caught phrases like, my big mouth, rapscallion fool and why can't I ever keep my tongue still? Eventually he pulled himself together and came back over to me.
"Sorry about that, Kathleen. There are some things that are not secret, and many things that are, but your just knowing about me is the biggest secret breaker of them all. If they were to find out, I shudder to think about my loss of privileges." "Who are 'they'?" I asked. "The Head Elves. The bosses. The ones in charge. Yes, there are always bosses, wherever you live." With that he bowed his head and tiny teardrops fell down his face on to his beard. "Don't cry, Timothy. Don't be upset. Your secret is safe with me, and I do like you visiting me." "Do you? Do you really, really?" "Yes." "Oh goody, it makes me feel so much better." He wiped his tears away and smiled up at me. "Go on, ask me some more questions." It was my turn to smile. "Surely you won't be able to answer them?" "Oh, of course I can, but the truth is, I shall probably have to use magic dust to stop you remembering what I've said. In the morning you might recall that I've been here, but not what we talked about. Eventually you'll forget you even saw me. Sorry." "Yes, that's what happened yesterday. Do you have to? Stop me remembering, that is? I can keep a secret." He looked down and thought a while. "It's not that I don't trust you, it's just that it's not allowed. Visitors must not be seen or heard. If I were caught talking to you I would never, ever, be allowed to visit again." "So how do you feel about me and you? What will you do? Will you still come? I do so want you to."
"Kathleen, I can only keep coming for a limited period of time. These things run a natural course. Conditions have to be right, and when they do appear, they don't last very long. I live in a world as nearly old as time. We have been around since long before the dawn of people. Somehow we discovered how to live in the shadowlands, which I believe was a matter of necessity, urged on by the fact that we were getting attacked by all manner of creatures. During this long time, we gradually came to the sorry conclusion that we had developed as much as we could and were destined to live without any further change. As you might imagine, this caused great grief amongst us. We've always been a joyful, happy and dare I say it - cheeky race. Full of jokes and tall tales. We faced long lives of tedium and stagnation. Sorrow was not something we could handle, and most definitely not on a national basis." "What do you mean, a national basis?" "That as a race or group of beings, we didn't like being unhappy." "I understand." "When you humans began developing, it seemed to be the answer to our prayers. Knowing you were there, folk began to look at ways of interacting with you. At first it was hoped that we might live alongside you, that we might all benefit from each other's being. But somehow there was always a divide, a line between us that could not be crossed, except in exceptional circumstances. It took many lifetimes before such a crossing ever took place, and I do believe that was by accident."
"Our ancient books tell of the lack of communication between us at those early meetings. The horror and suspicion with which we were greeted. The superstitions that grew about us, and how we used magic. Maybe it happened like that because it was too soon for you, and too late for us. Whatever the reason, we withdrew back into our own little domain. But the pull of your world was great to us and we didn't want to lose you altogether. We are after all, a friendly, talkative people." "Yes, you do like to talk a lot." "That's right Kathleen, we all talk a lot, now do you want to hear the rest of this story or not?" "Yes please, Timothy." He could be tetchy at times.
"Okay. So, after a while it was found that we could safely cross over, as long as we weren't seen. Gradually rules came into being which control every one of us to this day. However, some folk were not satisfied with just visiting; they began to get their own back against being rejected by having fun at the human's expense." He stopped and looked at me. "The fun being, moving things," I said. "Not really, that's just us trying to be tidy. I'm talking about making things disappear. I've known Folk keep a single shoe for years before bringing it back. Some have become quite hateful in their actions. But they're in the minority and they can't hurt humans." I nodded my head slightly, desperately trying to stay awake. So many questions, so much to take in.
Four nights passed before I saw Timothy again. My illness had passed and it was time for me to go back to school. I had laid all my clothes out ready for the morning, and my satchel was full with books. I fell asleep thinking about school.
As before, it was his singing that woke me, but I really don't think he meant for me to see him anymore. I lay and listened for a while. He was happy and not missing me at all. Maybe it was better this way, but I felt sad and must have sighed, for he stopped singing. In the dark he quietly said, "You're awake, aren't you?" "Yes, Timothy." I reached and turned on my bedside light. "My singing again?" "I like your song." "Oh, it's an old one."
He seemed different; more alert and full of beans. I sat up, not knowing what to say. My stomach began to hurt me. "I have so many things I want to ask you about." "I know," he said gently. "But there are some things that are better left unsaid. Perhaps it is enough that you have seen folk and know we are here. We mean no harm and do truly care about you people. The truth is, we need you, and you do not need us." "I need you, Timothy." He smiled. "For a while Kathleen, but not for much longer. Nothing stands still y'see. Everything moves on at its own natural pace, and all things change in the human world. Even as we speak." "You're leaving?" My voice caught in my throat and I swallowed hard. He smiled and said, "Yes. My time here was always limited, and I don't have any say in the matter. But being with you, talking with you, has been a wonderful experience for me. I feel hope for the future. For all of us. You have helped me remember the nature of things. I needed to have someone different to talk to, and you proved to be the best audience I could ever have. I needed you to listen to me and ask the questions, which would get my brain ticking over again. I am an old man, Kathleen. Very old. I have lived and seen so much. Being with you, if only for a short time, has made my life so much more interesting. I feel refreshed." He felt refreshed and I felt puzzled. I just didn't understand everything he said. "Perhaps I am not explaining myself very well. What I mean is; before us, you and me, that is, I just existed. Everything I did, I did by rote, without thinking. I just plodded along. By breaking the rules, even if it was accidental, I have come alive again. I have started to question. Question the rules that I live by, question the resignation with which I used to live. I want to ask if we folk can't try again to establish contact with you humans. To see if we can't break down the divide. It has been so many years since the last attempt. I'm sure it could be done if there were a strong enough will."
He made a rueful smile, "I'm equally sure that I will be laughed at for even mentioning it. Long-lived folk have grown used to everything remaining the same. They have forgotten what change can do. All wishful thinking on my part, I guess." He paused for a moment and almost talking to himself, said, "Perhaps I'm the one who is dreaming; and what if I am? Without our dreams we are lesser beings. Every creature dreams, doesn't it Kathleen? Kathleen?"
The next morning I got myself ready, ate a good breakfast and made my way to school. My tummy still hurt and I intended to ask matron about it, if it got any worse. As I walked along the road it seemed as though I had forgotten something, but for the life of me I couldn't remember what it was. Turning through the school gate, I glanced over at the caretaker's well-kept garden, full of beautiful flowers, shrubs and garden ornaments like gnomes, fishing by a little pond. Wait a moment!