Chapter Whispers


    “Do you fear anyone in the village?” Rose asked the children as she walked them to the garden the next day. Grandmother had another birth to see too and so Rose had offered to take care of the children.


    “No!” one little one shouted as he jumped rambunctiously waving a stick in his hand. “Not with the black hood of Ivan to guard us!”


    The rest cheered, jeered and imitated him as they skipped around Rose. However, Rose noticed that one child bit his thumbnail. Later, he laid down obediently for his nap and turned away from her.


    When the others were fast asleep, Rose woke him up. “Emilyan,” she said gently, for that was the child’s name. “Do you fear something? You can tell me.”


    He rubbed his eyes groggily as he replied, “Father grew angry because I wet my bed.”


    “Oh,” Rose comforted him with a hug disappointed. Then he continued, perhaps reassured because she did not laugh at him, though he was getting far too old to do such a thing.


    “I hear noises, whispers at night, scraping on the walls. Mother says it is the tree, when she leaves the tree cackles.” He buried his face into her arm as she imagined he did to his pillow when such noises sounded. Another child sat up over hearing his words. He did not whisper but spoke out right.


    “Sometimes at night I see a figure in the corner of my room. It doesn’t move.”


    “I do too!” a little girl agreed, still curled up on the ground. “Mine does move and when it opens its mouth it sounds like door hinges without oil.”


    Soon all of the children joined in excitedly, “I see shadows!”, “Glowing eyes peeked over the edge of my bed!”, “I once saw red hair slide out of the window sill!” She could see the children were beginning to upset themselves and others around them, feeding off the last story, making it sound more and more terrible.


    “Red hair indeed you are only saying that because Rose sits here!” Grandmother grunted as she entered the garden. Emilyan ducked behind Rose. She had a scolding eye as she spoke and the children silenced immediately.


    “There is nothing to fear so long as Ivan is here.” Babushka sang a little song twisting her fun little music box and the children echoed it with Rose adding her own voice and smiling encouragement. Soon they all laid back down at her command and slept deep once more.


    “Come with me to check the trees.” Grandmother gestured to Rose and she followed with admiring eyes, grateful to her kin for settling the children. Yet not convinced that what had been said was true. “Babushka, what if a demon still plagues our village?” She entreated her Grandmother.


    “One does, the Wolf in the woods.” Her Grandmother snorted, “And the white, man eater bear, without my power keeping them at bay they would surely ravage the town.”


    Rose said nothing though she did not know why. Her Grandmother had always been her closest companion growing up. Yet her old prejudices perhaps blinded her to certain realities about Frost at least.


    “The children seem to feel a strange presence at night.”


    “Yes, children often fear dark corners and creaking noises. Don’t you remember when you were little how often I checked under your bed?” Rose could not deny the fact. Although, come to think of it, her Grandmother usually insisted on such things, not the other way around.


    Grandmother pulled from her knotted red shall some light colored hair she had taken earlier from Martha. And for the first time in a long while Rose noticed that there had been a vast change. The white rose tree was blooming full and thick and was just as tall as Rose’s tree. “Have you changed something Babushka, how marvelous this tree appears.”If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    “Yes, these years have caused it to finally grow at last. Sometimes it takes a little prodding of the elements to get what you want.” She snipped a rose off with her little shears comparing. “Martha tells me you have been curious about her origins. Is this true?”


    “She tells you this?” Rose looked over to see Martha approaching while looking down demurely.


    “No matter, dear perhaps it would be best if you finally sated that curiosity of yours with things of simplicity. This is her home as it is yours. We wouldn’t want you two getting into trouble again.”


    Rose was confused by this odd warning. She curtsied obediently. “You are right, may we go to Sadko’s home to clean?”


    “Your inheritance could use a good dusting.” Grandmother gestured that they were dismissed.


    Rose stopped to gather water from a trough, not wishing to fight the well this morning. As Serge walked by she greeted him. “I hope all is well with your wife this morning.” Rose said politely.


    “What was that?” Serge looked at her oddly.


    “The birth this morning…” Rose felt that perhaps she should not have said anything. Her Grandmother had not told her the circumstances.


    “My wife is not pregnant. She is only sick.”  Serge laughed. “Your Grandmother came to give her some medicine. Please do not tell her you thought she was pregnant or she will realize she is fat.” He patted her head and walked on laughing all the way.


    “Oh,” Rose blushed, certain that his wife was to be due today. Her Grandmother had mentioned it twice in the past. They passed Marousha’s house and she was heavy again, with a child. Yet as haggard as her face was she smiled gently at the two girls as she lightly swept her doorstep. Rose had avoided speaking to her these last two years. She had no desire to hear more weeping. She felt very guilty for Marousha had always been kind to her so today she took a chance.


    “May we borrow some rags from you today Marousha?” Martha curtsied for them both since Rose was heavy with two water buckets.


    “Certainly,” Marousha smiled. When she returned and handed the cloths to Martha Rose dared again. “Will we be having the pleasure of your other children in the garden soon?”


    “What do you mean my other children?” Marousha was still smiling her eyes confused.


    “Yes, your other children, your babies surely have grown.” Rose looked around Martha into the house. There were no noises or signs that any other children were inside.


    “Oh Rose you are so funny. You must mean them.” Marousha patted her tummy, “Yes I do believe there is more than one in there, the way they kick. I’m growing so heavy I shall soon have to take to bed. I feel so strange giving birth. This will make six you know, if it is two. My mother died giving birth to only me. Luckily your Grandmother does so well at putting me at ease.”


    Rose was so startled by these words she could find nothing to say. Marousha should have twelve children. Two more would make it fourteen. She seemed to think…Lost in thought her face became pale and blank. Marousha thought she had accidentally brought up bad memories for Rose of her own mother.  She was embarrassed and simply shut the door on her after saying, “Well then, goodbye.”


    And so Rose’s investigations had not wrought good tidings. There was a presence in the village that needed to be stopped and no adult seemed to be aware of it not even her own Grandmother. “All children feared it except one, Martha who was perhaps the boy newly changed because he or she was being controlled by it.”


    Inside Sadko’s home Rose swept after Martha dusted and they moved the furniture around to what they agreed were more fashionable positions. It pained Rose to do this but in the end the result gave her a warm satisfaction. While Martha was beating out the mattresses on the other side of the house Rose found an abandoned pot over the stove filled with rotted porridge. She nearly vomited upon opening it and not wishing to expose it to Martha she took it out herself to the other side to rinse by the well. In the midst of this Old Jack hopped up.


    “I am melting so I must tell you quickly how to trick the child slave into not following you about.” Rose opened her mouth. Then rolled the pot aside and knelt down to listen.


    “There is a special broom in the corner by the door. This besom has been made with white magic so that it can hardly be seen unless you are looking for it. If you hand this to the little Snow Maiden she will freeze still and not move until you return to her and take the broom away.”


    “Will it hurt her?” Rose whispered. Jack hopped away leaving bits of himself behind. Rose anxiously looked down over the village to see if anyone had noticed this exchange. In the distance she heard the children laughing in the garden. She had to save them.


    Entering the door Rose marveled at Martha as she flung the mattress onto the bed all by herself. Rose shut the door and instantly seeing the broom before her. Sighing she grabbed it and walked over to her. “Martha we didn’t get all the cobwebs about the ceiling. Can you reach them with this?” With a tilt of her head and her usual smile Martha reached out and grabbed the broom. The stillness was instant and dramatic. Her eyes were open, a complete vacancy of host. Rose ran out the door, once outside she dropped down and crawled through the tall brush all the way to the woods.