I awake in the middle of the night. I have had strange dreams and I am certain I hear noises. Sharp nails clawing on wood. Scritch. Scratch. Scritch. It grates at my ears.
Papa will not allow me to keep a kerosene lamp, as he worries it may tip and cause a fire. Instead, on my nightstand I have a brass saucer with a stub of a candle. I slip out of bed and strike a match. My ceiling and walls explode into wicked shadows.
The sound grows louder. Scritch. Scratch.
There are many wild animals in the woods behind our house. I worry a raccoon or a skunk—or worse yet, a black bear—has gotten into the house. I decide I must wake Papa.
My nightshirt flutters around my feet as I tiptoe into the hall. The candle flame ripples outward, pressing into the thick darkness. I take a step toward Mama and Papa’s room, but I stop quite suddenly. A thought awakens in my mind. I turn toward the stairs and slowly descend.
My bare feet are cold as I glide along the wooden floors toward the parlor. I stand for a moment at the threshold, staring at the grand fireplace mantel. Embers of last evening’s fire still glow hot. They cast a reddish glow onto my dollhouse.
Scritch. Scratch.
I take a few tentative steps until I reach the side of the dollhouse. My gaze follows the trail of now-missing crumbs that once led from the fireplace to the molasses spill. I expect to find some poor little shrew or helpless vole caught in the sticky syrup, but as my eyes settle on the spot, the breath catches in my throat.
My hands tremble, and it is all I can do to keep the candle from slipping from my grasp. For a moment, I wonder if perhaps I am dreaming, if perhaps I am wandering in my sleep, if this is some sort of fata morgana—a mirage, a figment of my dream-drenched imagination. I blink hard, but it does not disappear.
On the floor, covered in sweet black syrup, is a human-like form no larger than one of my dolls. It twists and turns, clawing violently at the floor with the fear and fierceness of an injured animal. It is a mass of tangled hair and seems unable to free itself from the sticky molasses. Though the very idea of this peculiar creature terrifies me, it seems at once both small and helpless, and I am quite suddenly sorry for what I have done.
I set the candle in front of the house and fly toward the kitchen, where Frau Heinzelmann keeps her bucket filled with soapy water. I return as quickly as possible and pour the contents on top of the creature’s head, soaking it from tip to toe. The syrup dilutes, and dark liquid spreads into a larger but less sticky stain.
The creature frees itself, and I get a better sense of its figure. It has thin alabaster limbs with razor-like claws. Long white hair flows down from its head, concealing its body. Its face is angular, with cheekbones so sharp and jutting they could slice bread. It glares at me with enormous dark eyes—so black I almost think they are two giant holes.
I take a step back. I am ill prepared for such a hideous sight. I had imagined a kobold to be a charming and chubby little pixie wearing peasant clothes and a red felt hat—nothing like this gruesome ghoul.
I take another step backward. I turn to flee, but it calls to me in a calm but commanding voice.
“What have you done? Why have you caught me? What is it you wish from me?”
More than ever, I know I should run fast to my bed and pull the covers over my head, but something holds me steady. Frau Heinzelmann’s words come back to me. If you catch one, it will do as you please …
I muster all my courage and turn slowly to face the creature. “I wish,” I begin tentatively. Then I take a deep breath and forge ahead. “I wish you to do my bidding.”
The creature’s eyes appear to grow larger and darker still, and I suddenly want to withdraw my words. Before I am able, the creature responds.
“What is it you desire?”
Frau Heinzelmann was right! It is magic and can grant my wishes! Thoughts travel through my mind at a tremendous speed, and before I truly know what I am doing, words are tumbling out of my mouth.
“I would very much like my papa to be home and not to spend all his hours in the glasshouse!”
The creature smiles, and beyond its thin lips I see it has sharp little teeth.
“And I would like Mama to be up and out of bed. I would also like to return to Boston … and I would like a companion—yes—someone to talk to and play with and stay with me always … and…”
“You ask a great deal,” interrupts the little creature suddenly. Its eyes are so large I fear I could fall inside them and be lost forever. “However, if you promise to give me something in return—if you swear it—then you shall have all you desire.”
Hurray! I shall have my wishes! And though a warning thuds softly inside me, I lick my dry lips and make a cross over my heart.
“I promise,” I vow solemnly.
No sooner have the words left my lips than the creature vanishes. The candle flame extinguishes, leaving me sitting alone in cold darkness.