Short Story: Little Sisters

The Little Sisters

“Come on, come on!” Tobias half-whispered impatiently, waving for Annas to follow him up the crest of the hill.

“I said I’m comin’,” puffed the slightly overweight boy. “Iddn’t as easy fer me, ya know.”

“It’s good fer ya,” teased Tobias, who had easily jogged the distance from the village. “Help ya lose those pup pounds ya’ve hung onto fer so long.”

Pushing against his knees for an extra boost, Annas finally joined his friend up at the top of the hill. He collapsed flat on the ground, breathing heavily. “Ohhhhh…my…poor…heart…”

Tobias laughed. “Ya sound like Ol’ Ferrin when ya talk like that.” He put a hand to his chest and wheezed a perfect imitation of the elder. “My heart, my heart, and my poor achin’ back… Ya young ones don’t know how good it is ta be young.” He shook a limp fist in Annas’ face. “Ya little river slug! I oughter cut ya up and fry ya with spuds for my breakfast, I oughter!”

“Lay off, willya?” Annas rolled over and pushed himself up. His face was bright pink from exertion, and he had grass stuck in his hair. “What’ya bring me here fer, anyway?”

Tobias turned away from his friend to watch the sun falling slowly toward the horizon. “I want ta show ya somethin’.”

“Eh? Show me what? There’s nothin’ up here worth seein’, ‘specially not in tha dark,” grumbled Annas. He had skipped dinner to come see whatever Tobias had discovered up on the hill, and skipped meals always made him grumpy. He wasn’t particularly fond of Tobias anyways; the boy always seemed to get him in trouble.

“You’ll see. Wait for tha sun ta get ta that tree right there,” he pointed, “an’ then look down at tha woods.”

Annas wiggled himself into a sitting position and peered into the distance. Tobias pointed to the huge, dead tree that stood out past the limits of the village, on the far side of the river where Annas’ father fished for a living. The big hook-shaped tree was dark and ominous in the evening light, not that he would admit as much to Tobias. Truth be told, he could see that same tree from his window and hated the sight of it. He thought that maybe long white wriggly things lived in it and crawled around on its burned-black bark when he was asleep.

The setting sun burned the sky orange, and burned Annas’ eyes into a teary wince. It was almost touching the hook tree. Tobias sat down next to Annas and chuckled, sounding very self-satisfied to the other boy. “Akay, go ahead an’ look down in tha woods.”

Annas sighed. “Tob, this is dumb. Canna we go back home now? I’m missed my supper an’ Ma wants me ta light the-”

Tobias grabbed his arm excitedly. “Shh! Shh! Look, LOOK!” He pointed down at the base of the hill.

Annas squinted in the dim light, unimpressed. “So tha trees are movin’. It’s windy is all, no need ta get so upse-” Then he saw, and his words dried up and crumbled.

The movements from the forest at the bottom of the hill were not made by wind, but by green people! Six or so tiny girl-shaped green figures had emerged from the forest and were moving around in the long grass, passing back and forth slowly, solemnly. They appeared not to have legs, but skirts that never touched the ground and always rippled with movement. Oddest of all was the fact that they were slightly see-through; almost imperfectly opaque, like smudges on a window.

“Gor!” Annas breathed, his eyes riveted. “What are they?”

Tobias watched with a half-grin. ”Jone Sorel. The Little Sisters.”

“How d'ya know about ‘em?”

“Ol’ Ferrin tells me all kinda stories.”

“Gor!"

Tobias smiled at his friend's gape. He had only seen Jone Sorel a few times since Ol' Ferrin had told him the story, but he had been eager to share the secret with someone else - especially since Ol' Ferrin had advised against it.

"Now, Tobias," coughed the elder, "Don't ya neveh go an' see dem Jone Sorel, don't ya." He paused, hacked, and spat. "Dem's dangerous, dem is.”

Tobias looked up from the stick he was whittling. "What d’yer mean, dangerous?"

Ol' Ferrin nodded wisely, closing one eye in a knowing manner. "Ya listen ta me, m’boy. Dere's tings in dis world which’d tear ya ta pieces as soon as lookatcha, dere is; and Jone Sorel’s one of tha worst. Dey’s pretty, but dat’s how dey getcha. Ya stay away from dem, if ya know what’s good fer ya."

Tobias spat angrily. “I ain’t afeared a no pretty things. Shut yer mouth, auld man.”

Ol’ Ferrin held up the sign of the evil eye. “Ach, tha tings young’uns say dese days! Yer oughter have respect, ya little river slug. Mind me and don’tcher ever try and see dem Little Sisters; else’n ya want me ta tell yer ma and da.”

He cackled then, a sound which Tobias particularly hated. "Not that there'd be much left of ya, so there wouldn't."

Annas spoke loudly then, jarring Tobias from his thoughts. "Hey, lookit! That one's fallen!" He pointed toward one of the little green girls, who had separated from the others and was not quite as close to the hill as the others. She appeared to have fallen headlong in the grass, and lay in an unmoving, untidy heap at the edge of the woods.

And yet…Tobias could not shake the sudden terrible feeling that as it lay there, it was watching him with cold, black, oily eyes. Watching him, and thinking about him.

Tobias stared, unsure of himself. "Annas, where'd tha others go?" He looked around a bit, but the other Jone Sorel were nowhere to be seen. "Didna they go back in tha woods?"

Annas shrugged. "Mayhap they did. D'ya think we should help it or somethin'?"

Tobias was staring intently at the fallen one, crumpled up like a napkin left on the dinner table, yet surely peering up at the two boys, when Annas’ breath suddenly hitched in his throat. Tobias turned and saw a horrible thing, a horrible thing indeed.

The boys could do nothing but stare down in horror at the strange arm that had sprouted through Annas’ chest. It seemed almost like sculpted green glass, but softer-looking; definitely alive, and as perfectly formed as a baby’s chubby arm. Dreamily, he noticed that he could see one of Annas’ buttons through the arm, and could clearly make out the edge of the hill beyond them through it as well.

They both watched, without a word, as the fingers flexed, reached out, and pinched over some invisible thing in the air. The arm rotated a turn and a half to the right. From somewhere inside Annas there was a soft clunk sound like a door latch being unlocked. Immediately after the clunk, Annas’ nose spurted a bright gush of blood that spattered the toe of Tobias’ shoe.

He stayed upright for a moment, long enough for Tobias to think he might be okay. Then his eyes rolled up into his head, becoming two mottled-white crescents and he slumped, sliding down off the arm and landing face-first on the ground in a growing puddle of blood.

“A-Annas?” Tobias managed, his whole body shaking violently. He didn’t want to look at the owner of the glass-green arm, but after a moment he felt his eyes drawn to her.
She was beautiful, a flowing glassy girl whose dress seemed to float and fade at the top of the grass. Her mouth was smiling, but her black eyes were deep and hollow, like the village well. Tobias could see the line of the horizon ripple through her head, THROUGH her head. He saw the setting sun, gray through her face, barely a sliver now.

Then she opened her mouth wide and hissed at him. He saw then the way her mouth seemed to hinge at each ear and split her face open, the rows and rows of mottled grey needle-like teeth, the moist pink maw fading into darkness that looked like it would never end…

Then Tobias was stumbling away, tripping over his own feet and falling over himself in the cool evening grass, trying to drag himself as far away from her as possible, his hands scrabbling to pull himself away backwards. “Yes, not agin, no, neveh agin, I unnerstan’, I‘ll neveh come back,” he babbled, trying not to cry and failing, tears and snot leaking from his face in rivulets as his chest heaved with silent sobs. “Yes’m, I’ll go, neveh come back, don’ kill me, don’ kill me, I’m goin’.”

She did not move. Tobias pulled himself to his feet, and as the sun finally disappeared he tore his eyes away and began to run down the hill.

He would convince himself later that he hadn’t heard the wet sounds of eating as he ran away, the crunch of bone, the slurping and chewing and tearing. He would tell himself that he hadn’t smelled the coppery red stink of blood following him on the wind as he ran, ran, ran through the dark night back to the village. He would make himself believe that he didn’t see other ghostly green girl-figures spiraling up the hill, whisping past him to join the feast, hissing and spitting and shrieking in whisper-quiet voices at each other.

In time, Tobias would even convince himself that the Little Sisters would not come looking for him, for the other little boy who had seen what he should not have seen.

But for now, all that mattered was the running, and trying to stop the tears.