I find this sign on the garage door when backing out to go to school this morning. I hope Cinnamon has a good hiding spot picked out. His days are looking numbered.
My day goes on without as much as a passing thought toward Cinnamon and his shenanigans. I walk out to the mailbox when I get home and find out that now it seems mail addressed to Cinnamon -- from someone who knows him primarily by his Elven name -- is being delivered to my house. Today he received what could be fairly described as a threatening jigsaw puzzle. As a result, his stress level is very high this evening.
Day 23
The arrival of that puzzle last night really got to Cinnamon. I find him sitting back in the sun room this morning, exhausted from trying to shed his anxiety and frustration all night.
"I thought squeezing this tennis ball was supposed to help me get rid of my stress!" he shouts with his demented cartoon chipmunk voice. "It isn't working!"
"Now, you do realize you're sitting in the sun room," I point out, "and you're surrounded by windows, and anyone looking for you would be able to see exactly where you are?"
He closes his stupid plastic eyes and lets the ball roll to the floor. "I don't think it makes a difference anymore," he says, sounding utterly defeated.
Day 24
When I didn't see Cinnamon this morning, I knew better than to hope he had moved on. He hadn't really bounced back from his depressive spiral yesterday and this concerned me; not because I was worried about him, but I didn't want anything damaging going on inside my house.
I began to hear a quiet, low-pitched rumble in the middle of the afternoon. It almost sounded like a poorly-maintained engine idling somewhere down the street, but whenever I stepped outside to try and figure out what it was, it would stop. After some careful exploration, I figured out it was coming from my grandmother's piano, almost as if it were alive and breathing. Then I noticed the hat.
"Why? Are you in the piano?" I ask. He doesn't respond. I slam my palm down on an octave of keys and hear him skittering awake.
"What? What?" he screeches. Raw panic. I don't think he could tell he was trapped in place by the hat. I let him struggle there for a few moments, enjoying the sound of his fright more than I care to admit.
"WHY ARE YOU IN THE PIANO?" I shout.
"What time is it?" he whispers.
"Late afternoon, almost sunset," I said. "Why could you possibly care?"
"I thought over what you said yesterday, about hiding places," he answers. "Today is the Winter Solstice. I need a good hiding place now more than ever before."
"Because?"
"Because?" he repeats, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Because? You really can't be this stupid. The Winter Solstice is the longest night of the year, which almost means it's the darkest day of the year. For Dark Elves, this is the day when our powers are the most...heightened."
"Really. And your smiley-faced elf powers are so mighty that you need to hide in a ninety-year-old piano."
"There's only one of me," he finally replies. "There are more of them."
"So I'm guessing you don't get along with the other elves very well."
"They aren't all elves," he says. "It's a guild. The elves just lead it. Or at least we had at one time. I really don't know anymore. Now, please just leave me alone. One way or another you'll be rid of me soon."
And I think, Not soon enough.
Day 25
I left the house early to finally get my Christmas shopping done. It went fast, so I was home sooner than expected. I walk in with my packages to the sound of bloodcurdling shrieks.
"Help me, please!" Cinnamon screams. "They've found me! They're here in the house RIGHT NOW!" I see him sprawled on the floor, restrained in a manner which gives me a moment of pause.
"Where are they?" I ask, setting down my gifts and hurrying into the living room, searching.
"I think...there's only...one," he replies, the strain in his voice evident. I rush down the hallway, more than ready to finally put an end to all of this ridiculousness. No sign of anything or anyone. Just as I turn back I hear a loud grunt and a painful cry. By the time I return to the kitchen, he's gone.
"You shouldn't have done that." A menacing voice fills the room. "Coming in when you did surprised me. You gave him the moment of distraction he needed for escape."
"Yeah, did I?" I answer. "Well, your problem, not mine."
"Unless I decide to make it your problem," came the amused reply.
"Seriously?" I say. "I've had that little freak taking over my life for the past month, and now you really think I'm going to put up with whatever YOU are? Show yourself!"
A figure rises from behind a chair. Twenty-five days ago this sight would have had my jaw dropping to the floor. But now?
"Of course," I say. "You. It makes perfect sense now."
"We'll continue this later," I hear as it vanishes, the sound of the voice trailing off into nothing like dissipating smoke.
Day 26
I'm awake much too early. There's an unfamiliar sound coming from the living room, and immediately I know something is wrong. I stagger out of bed and down the hall. As both promised and threatened yesterday, she's back.
I'm in no mood for this. "What?"
"Where is he?" she asks.
"I don't know, and I don't care. Just get out of my house. I never had any purpose for an elf, and I surely don't have one for a doll."
"Doll?" Evil laughter follows. "I am no doll. This is merely the appearance I chose to get his attention. I needed a way in here so I could watch him closely." She pauses. "What it it with so many of you males, by the way? All it takes is long hair and a short skirt, and your brains shut down. It's quite pathetic, really."
"So if you've been here all this time...."
She anticipates my question. "I've stayed hidden in that chest filled with the Legos your nephews used to love so much, waiting for the proper moment. I tried going after him several times but was never strong enough to act on my own until the Winter Solstice. Clavicus may have evaded us for the time being, but he knows his days are numbered. And there are several of his brethren around the country that need to be dealt with before Christmas arrives. With my powers at their current peak, I'm needed on other fronts. This may be the last time we see each other, unless he's fool enough to come back here. And if he does, you'd best beware." With a flash of light she was gone.
I went back to bed, hoping this bizarre Christmas toy civil war going on around me was only a dream. If Cinnamon showed his face today, he'd better have some answers.
Day 27
No sign of Cinnamon or Evil Barbie for over 24 hours. Part of me hopes he got away, just because she was so awful and I'd rather not see her win. But on the other hand, considering everything that's happened this month...I don't know he wouldn't deserve whatever he had coming. I keep thinking back to how I never actually heard anything like a slamming door when he broke free the other day. If he did get away, I'm not sure how far he would have made it.
I step out to get the morning paper and see shredded red fuzz scattered around the doormat. No hat, no bits of Cinnamon anywhere. Did he only make it this far before she found him, or is this the sign of another struggle from which he narrowly escaped? Knowing his tenacity, I suspect he's still out there somewhere. But with Christmas Eve only hours away and the Season of the Elf rapidly coming to an end, I can only wonder.
THE END
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