Topic Week 1: The Coal, The Carrot, and The Scarf

Sometimes they show up there. The misplaced things. The lost things. The wayward things. On the emerald green grass  at the edge of the woods bordering the cottage which had been in her family for generations, Erin had found many interesting things. She wasn't supposed to look. But sometimes she would sneak peeks. 

Today it was five pieces of coal, heavy, piled one atop the other in a straight line. Despite the wind that swayed the grass, the tower did not topple. Next to the coal was a frayed red scarf. Maybe someone's Nan had knitted it, and someone's child had loved it, worn and soft looking as it was. Despite the wind that swayed the grass, the tassels did not stir. A carrot, bright orange, with a fluffy spray of leaf on top, looking like it had just been pulled from the garden, lay astride the scarf. Maybe someone's Nan had planted that garden. Despite the wind that swayed the grass, the carrot did not shift. 

It was Erin's Nan who told her not to bring the things in from the edge of the woods. At first she had not noticed when Erin began collecting them. Mysteriously as they appeared, the little girl delighted in placing them inside a small wicker basket with a checkered cloth. She would totter out onto the grass, just to the edge of the woods, and retrieve them. A woolen stray left sock. A tiny glinting brass key. A ball of yarn, the tail of which ran off almost out of sight into the woods. And then one day, a stone, pure, white, and reflective, the size of Erin's palm. It was the stone that did it. 

At only six years old, Erin had sniffled and stomped her feet upon returning to the cottage when Nan had noticed her prize and snatched the stone out of her grasp. 

Breathless and wide eyed Nan cried

"An' where di' you get this then child o' mine?"  

"By the woods," Erin pouted. "Gi' it back." 

Nan had placed the stone high up on the kitchen cupboard and took Erin's red cheeked tear stained face between her knobby soft hands. 

And then she told Erin about the wood, and the creatures that lived there. And after that, about the changeling children. 

She had forbidden Erin to go to the edge of the woods, and she had forbidden her from bringing back those things she found there. And she tossed the white stone into the hearth. 

Much as she had cried over her pretty white stone, Erin got over the hurt, as was the way of six year olds, with extra pudding and a warm bath and her stuffed rabbit to sleep next to her at night. And over the weeks that followed she heeded her Nan's warning, and she did not go to the edge of the woods, and she did not bring back the things, but she did peek through her window at them. She never saw anyone place the treasures, but sometimes they would show up there. The misplaced things. The lost things. The wayward things. 

And then one night, under the light of the full moon when she peeked out her window to the sound of her Nan's deep snores down the hall, Erin saw the most interesting of things. 

It was a little girl. 

And the little girl looked like her. 

And the little girl winked and smiled at Erin from the edge of the woods, and she held up a pure white stone.