Day 1
Thanksgiving had been a great day, full of family, laughter, football, dogs, and pie. I drove home that night through the unseasonably frigid temperatures and went to bed feeling full and content and loved. Then I woke the next morning and saw this creepy little thing perched by the television, staring me down. I recognized it as one of those disturbing “Elf on the Shelf” misfits, but the thing is -- I don't own one. I don’t mind saying I was a little freaked out. I mean, look at it. I know there are families that love to get all Pinterested up this time of year with stuff like this, but to have one of these awful things just show up in your house? Not cool. I went on with my day and did the best I could to ignore it, because there was no way I was going to touch the thing.
Day 2
I had almost forgotten about my interloping red bag of horrible when I went to bed Friday night and thought I was in the clear Saturday morning...until I walked into the kitchen and found it waiting for me. It sat on the kitchen table with the strangest handwritten note beside it: "I seek sanctuary. My Elven name is Clavicus Hrothgar, Overlord of the Darkness Guild. But perhaps it'd be best if you simply called me Cinnamon."
Day 3
I found Cinnamon sitting vigilantly by the kitchen window this morning, quietly muttering to himself, "They're coming....they're coming....I know they're coming." This is not reassuring. I wish I had some idea who “they” are supposed to be.
Day 4
My first day back to work after the Thanksgiving break. I get home to find this scene.
Oh, Cinnamon...I just...I don't even want to know....I can only hope all of this was enough to quiet whatever demons are plaguing your tormented elven spirit. Especially now that I have to finish off the leftover pie without any Reddi-Wip.
Day 5
For once there was no sign of Cinnamon when I woke up this morning, or when I got home from work in the evening. In fact, I had almost successfully banished the idea of him from my head altogether. Just when I was settling in for the evening, figuring I was finally in the clear, I heard the television turn on all by itself, which never happens because my house isn’t haunted. I walked to the living room to see what the deal was and turn it off when I heard a low, threatening growl coming from the edge of the coffee table behind me: "You will NOT. Touch that remote."
Day 6
After what I now think of as The Charlie Brown Incident, my sleep last night was frequently interrupted by unsettling nightmares. By the time I woke, I'd all but decided to send Cinnamon on his way, maybe even with the trash pick-up tomorrow. When I got out of bed to do some early work on revisions I found this, and noticed a recently recorded voice memo on my phone: "You didn't know I can see your dreams, did you? Do you ever want to work on your clever little story again? I think a few weeks of sanctuary would be a fair trade for your new password. Or, should I say, OUR new password."
What choice do I really have? And again, I'm wondering: Sanctuary from who? Or what? If whatever he’s hiding from would get him out of my life, I’d almost be ready to put up a neon sign outside the front door to guide the way.
Day 7
There was no sign of Cinnamon this morning. I’m learning to trust the mild anxiety that follows when that happens. Sure enough, I find another message on the iPad when I get home. Paraphrased, because it was kind of scattered and written in more fonts than I knew the iPad had available: "Haha I found the candy hidden in the bathroom and finished it off! It tasted awful but I feel great! I'm going on a pizza run, back later!!"
Is Cinnamon gone forever, or will tonight just be a temporary respite for me? Tune in next week to find out!!
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