- for our nephew - Christmas, 2002
Once upon a time, in a small town in the North, lived a young boy named Dylan. It was midnight, two nights before Christmas, and Dylan could not sleep. He was in corner bedroom of his Papa’s house, and did not know what had woken him from dreaming, but knew he had been lying restless for a while. He turned his head to look out the window. The shade was open slightly so he could see the winter night sky. Dylan looked up at the stars; they were easy to see against the darkness. He thought one of the stars was twinkling very brightly. It grew brighter and brighter until it seemed so bright it was almost as if he could reach out and touch it. Then, he realized the bright light was not a star at all, but a candle on the windowsill flickering to life.
Gramma kept a lot of candles in the windows at Christmas, but he knew she blew all of them out when it was time to go to bed. He had helped her blow this one out himself, and remembered seeing the flame rush away into a gray ribbon of smoke. He was surprised to see it burning again.
Dylan sat up in bed, to get a closer look at the candle. It was shining very brightly now. So brightly, in fact, the glow made it difficult to see the night sky through the bedroom window. But Dylan was a clever young boy who noticed many things, and even with the burning candle he still caught a quick movement outside the window. He stood on the bed and pressed his face to the glass to get a better look.
It took a moment for his eyes to recognize the familiar things in Papa and Gramma’s yard. At first everything looked a little different in the night, but after a short while he could see the driveway up to the house, where his mommy would park her car when she came to get him in the morning. Past the driveway he could see the small shed, where Gramma’s pony Lucy rested for the night. On the far side of the shed ran the rows of pine trees, which Dylan had never been allowed to walk through by himself. Gramma always held his hand, saying he was “too little to walk by himself through such a large forest.” Although he could not see it, he knew on the other side of the forest was the lake where he and Papa liked to go fishing in the summer.
Near the edge of the forest he saw it again – a quick scuttle-like movement. He looked over towards the shed to make sure Lucy had not gotten out. She was still there, her head bowed and tail swishing slightly in the breeze. Looking back at the forest, he tried to see if maybe a deer was coming through the pines.
Next he saw the movement a little closer to the house, near Gramma’s flowerbeds. He squinted his eyes, to see if anything had left tracks in the snow. But it was too difficult to see clearly through the bedroom window, so he decided to move to the living room. He thought he’d be able to glimpse more through the great big windows there. He picked up the candle, then very carefully climbed down off the bed. He didn’t want to turn on any lights, lest he wake Gramma or Papa. Dylan had to walk slowly with the candle, so it wouldn’t blow out.
As he came into the living room, he could hear Papa snoring. He had fallen asleep on the living room couch again. His book was lying on the floor. Dylan froze when he realized Papa was sleeping there – then tiptoed around the couch very, very quietly to get to the windows. He knew if Papa woke up he would carry Dylan back to bed – and Dylan was too curious about what moving around outside to go back to sleep.
As Dylan reached the window he carefully set the candle down on the floor, making sure it would not tip over. He looked out the big window, trying to see where the moving thing was now. Soon he spotted something under the tree right outside the big window. As he watched, the thing moved closer and closer to him, until finally Dylan saw clearly what it was.
Standing outside, just on the other side of the window, was a very tiny boy. He was standing on top of the snow, wearing furry little boots and a long coat. He held his own teeny tiny candle, and looked at Dylan as though studying him, trying to figure out what he was.
The boy appeared only as tall as Dylan’s knee. He wasn’t wearing a hat or mittens, but didn’t seem to be cold. Dylan and the tiny creature stared at each other for a few minutes. Dylan at first felt afraid, but the boy looked so surprised and so harmless the scared-y feeling soon went away. Besides, it seemed silly to be afraid of something so small.
Dylan put his hand on the glass, as if trying to touch the boy. After a moment, the tiny creature put his hand on the glass too, as though to see how small his hand looked compared to Dylan’s. Dylan thought the boy’s entire hand wasn’t quite as big as his normal sized thumb.
Dylan wanted to get closer to the boy. He wondered where he had come from, and why he was so small. He wondered if he had a name. He wondered if he would come back in the daytime. He wondered if his Papa knew about the tiny little boy.
Moving slowly, so as not to startle the creature, Dylan stood up. He slid the window open. The tiny boy creature moved back a bit, but he did not seem afraid. As Dylan stepped through the window, he could feel the winter air blowing around him. He had not put on slippers so his feet were instantly cold. As he moved to place his first foot down in the snow, the tiny boy suddenly jumped forward –
Dylan was so surprised he yelled “Hey!” and fell the rest of the way out of the window. Landing in the snow with a soft ‘thud’, he saw the boy running away, back towards the forest. He heard him laughing, as though he was playing a game of chase. “Come back here!” Dylan called, getting up to run after him.
As soon as Dylan entered the pine forest, he knew he was seeing things he had never seen before. The trees themselves appeared different – almost as if they were dancing. The snow seemed so white it was almost glowing, and all around him Dylan sensed other creatures were moving, but so quickly he could barely see them. He heard something that sounded like faint music – a soft tune played on whistles. Dylan’s eyes darted around, trying to find the tiny boy creature. He found him just in time to watch him jump on to a tree, like a frog. Dylan ran toward the tree so he wouldn’t lose the boy creature, but suddenly out of nowhere a girl appeared, blocking his path.
The girl had the most beautiful face Dylan had ever seen. She was almost as tall as he was, but she wore a strange dress made of feathers. She had the friendliest blue eyes, and the warmest smile. Instantly Dylan knew not to be scared. He noticed around her neck was a red charm that looked like a ladybug, and tucked behind her back – although he could not be sure – appeared to be small feathered wings.
“Hello Dylan,” the girl said. “What are you doing in my forest?”
“It’s Papa’s forest,” Dylan answered. “I was chasing the little boy who bit me.”
The girl smiled, and looked over at the tree to which the tiny boy creature had jumped. “Tonight it’s our forest,” she said. “We’re enjoying the snow, my friends and I.”
“Don’t mind Furfoot,” she continued, referring to the tiny boy; “He was just playing with you. He thinks it’s funny to bite people on the toes.”
Dylan stared at the girl. He wondered how she’d known his name. Then, a wind blew around them, chilling him right through his pajamas. He felt very, very cold. His feet, covered in snow, were starting to hurt from the sting of the winter air.
But the girl did not look cold at all. She smiled again, and held out her hand. In it was a tiny pinecone, which looked about half-closed. “Hold this,” she said, offering it to Dylan. “It won’t work for very long, but it will help a bit.”
He took the pinecone from her and immediately felt a little warmer. His feet didn’t hurt quite so much. He felt the pinecone shudder slightly in his hand, and saw it close a little tighter. Dylan knew pinecones could close up when cold and wet, so he guessed when this one shut all the way then he would feel the full force of the winter night again. The girl must have given him a magic charm, to help him keep warm.
“Thank you,” Dylan said; “But won’t you be cold now?”
“Oh no,” the girl answered. “I don’t need it – the snow doesn’t bother me at all. But I know human children get cold in the winter. You shouldn’t stay out here anyway,” she continued. “Your Papa will be waking up soon.”
Dylan remembered Papa sleeping on the couch, and the candle he’d left burning near the window. He knew you were never supposed to leave a candle burning by itself because it could start a fire, so he hoped everything was okay. He knew he should probably go back to the house, but he didn’t want to leave the girl and everything else in the pine forest. As he was thinking, the pinecone in his hand shuddered again, and closed even tighter.
“Can you come back to the house with me?” asked Dylan. He wondered what Papa would say if he saw the little girl.
She laughed. “No, silly – we’re not supposed to leave the forest. Furfoot does sometimes, but he gets in trouble for it. I wouldn’t want to leave anyway - I like it here.”
Dylan stomped his feet to keep them warm. Then, he had an idea: “If I go and put my boots on, will you stay here?” he asked.
The girl shook her head. As she did, he noticed her hair fall from around her ears. One of them peaked out – it appeared crinkled, almost like a raisin. “I’m sorry, Dylan, but we are playing all over the forest tonight. Soon my grandfather with start telling stories by the lake, and I want to listen.”
The girl turned to go. Her feather rustled as she moved, and this time Dylan was sure he could see her small wings. “You’d better hurry home,” she said, “Before your pinecone closes all the way.”
Dylan couldn’t believe she was going to leave. Around him he heard loud crackling through the trees, and in front of him he saw something slink from one branch to another, as if heading towards the lake. Something hopped by his shoulder, with a gentle “swish.” The small movement made him gasp, and he realized that all at once everything had begun to move, as if all the creatures of the forest wanted to go with the girl and hear her grandfather’s stories. Dylan’s feet started stinging again, very badly. He did not think he had ever been so cold before.
The girl said one final thing: “I’ll ask my grandfather about you, Dylan. He may have seen you before. You should watch for him,” she suggested with a smile, “The next time you and your Papa go fishing.”
Then, she was gone.
The pinecone in his hand was nearly completely shut. Dylan felt the winter air biting his hands and face. The commotion of the forest around him swelled as creatures of all shapes and sizes danced by, until their noise was so loud it sounded like a thundering train. The whistles shrilled in the air and tree branches crashed left and right. Dylan thought about following the noises, but knew to get to the lake took a very long walk through the trees. Snow blew around his body and he grew bitterly cold, and he realized he had no choice but to get back to the house, or risk possibly freezing in the winter night. Dylan turned, and ran as fast as he could out of the forest.
As he ran, he began to grow sleepy. As he neared the living room window he noticed his eyes were growing heavier with each step, but he kept going until he was right outside Papa’s house. Because the living room window was so big the bottom of the window was very close to the ground, so he was able to easily step through. But as he lifted his foot something outside seemed to catch it, scratching his toe, which surprised him. This caused him to stumble through the window, knocking the candle over. It landed with a “clack.” The candle flame vanished into a ribbon of smoke, and Papa jumped up from the couch with a loud “What’s going on?”
Dylan froze, hoping Papa wouldn’t see him and ask why he was out of bed. Then, he remembered the window was open, blowing cold air into the room. Quietly, he shut it.
Papa turned and saw him. “Dylan!” He exclaimed. “What are you doing up? It’s past midnight!”
Dylan looked at Papa. He didn’t know what to say. He wanted to ask if Papa knew about all of the creatures in the forest, but he wasn’t sure how to begin. He wanted to ask how the feather-girl knew he liked to go fishing. He wanted to ask if Papa had heard of a “Furfoot” before. His head felt very heavy, and he had to open his eyes very wide to keep them from blinking shut. But Dylan had so many questions on his mind; he did not want to fall asleep.
“Were you watching out the window?” Papa asked. “Were you looking at the forest?”
Dylan nodded his heavy head. Maybe Papa did know about the girl and the strange music played with whistles. Maybe he and Papa could put on their boots, and go back outside, and . . . .
Papa picked him up. Dylan put his head on Papa’s shoulder – he felt warm and safe. And immediately realized how good it was to be back inside, where he could snuggle up in his cozy bed. He forgot about his boots, and hugged closer to Papa’s sweater.
“Your mommy used to watch out the window sometimes too, when she was a little girl,” Papa said. “Sometimes she’d sit there all night, looking to see what was going on outside. She was a curious little kid – just like you are.”
Papa carried Dylan out of the living room. “We’ve got to get you under the covers, mister,” he said. “You feel so cold from being on that floor, with no slippers on.”
“Papa,” Dylan said, as Papa tucked him under the covers in the warm bed. He held out his hand, showing Papa the pinecone.
“My goodness! A pinecone! Where on earth did you find that?” Papa asked. He took the pinecone from Dylan’s hand and placed it on the windowsill. “Here, I’ll put it right here next to the bed, so it will be the first thing you see when you wake up in the morning.”
Dylan pressed his cheek into the pillow. He closed his eyes as Papa kissed him on the forehead. He could not open his eyes again, and knew he’d have to wait until morning to ask his questions. “Good night, Papa,” he murmured.
“Good night, Dylan,” Papa answered. “Sweet dreams.”
As the door closed, Dylan could hear him saying “A pinecone, eh? Where do children find these things?”
His eyes firmly shut, Dylan thought about the forest. He thought about the dancing trees and the fast moving creatures. He thought about the beautiful girl, and wished he’d asked her name. Then, he recalled what she’d said about her grandfather. She had said to look for him, the next time he went fishing. It was a long way until summer, but maybe Papa could take him ice fishing tomorrow, and they could look for the storyteller together. This seemed like a good idea, and it made him feel very glad.
And then – warm, content, and exhausted from his night’s adventures, Dylan fell asleep.
- The End