Little Orphan Annie

Annie stayed up as long as she pleased, so she was already awake when the first roll of thunder shook the dust from the rafters of the ancient boarding house. 

According to the grandfather clock next to the entryway, it was a little after midnight. “Nothing good happens after midnight.” The old mistress had warned a multitude of times in an attempt to encourage an early bedtime. It never worked for Annie. She wasn’t scared. She was the oldest, after all. 

Annie sat at the hearth with a book in her lap, unbothered by the raging wind outside the dirty window. The storm had arrived seemingly out of nowhere. The setting sun was masked in an ominous green cloud that could only mean bad weather. When the last ray of light fell behind the forest, the wind picked up and brought with it the rain of a hundred storms. 

The garden behind the house was Mistress’s pride and joy, and as a punishment for misbehaving, Annie had to spend several hours weeding the tomato patch that morning. Now, she would like to see that tomato patch flooded and destroyed. It served Mistress right. 

She quickly glanced out the window to see the moonlit cornfield, bowing to the wind in coerced submission. Already, she noticed many of the stalks snapped at the base. Farmer James would be quite peeved at the inconvenience, which was good; he needed to spend more time on his corn and less time doting on the young children of the boarding house like they were special. 

 She hummed to herself as if it were a fine spring evening. The slippers on her feet were a bit too snug, but she wouldn’t let the discomfort show on her face when the children woke up. The girl she had stolen them from knew better than to make a fuss and tattle on her. 

Lightning lit the dim room, followed immediately by a loud boom that popped in Annie’s ears. 

The old Mistress rushed down the stairs and peeked through the curtains, nervously pulling her shawl tight. The magnificent storm outside was ripping her beloved elm tree to shreds. The torment on Mistress’s wrinkled face as she watched another branch crash to the ground was quite entertaining. 

Annie chuckled to herself as she turned the page on her book. “The children are awake.” She sang as footsteps from the upper room pounded across her ceiling. Already, she was thinking up a story that was sure to keep them awake for the rest of the night. 

Mistress knelt to put a new log on the fire. It was eating through the logs at twice the normal speed. 

The first child barreled down the stairs, her eyes as large as the plump tomatoes harvested earlier that day. “Are we going to die!?” She searched the window just as another round of lightning lit the sky. Her face was still chubby with baby fat, and the other children lovingly named her Baby, her true name forgotten.

“Maybe…” Annie said, grinning. 

Several other children followed after Baby, all with the same look of groggy terror, and warm with sleep. They sat huddled together in a heap in front of the hearth. Even Carrot looked terrified as the wind whistled down the chimney and stoked the fire. The fresh log cracked and split, popping loudly and making the orphans jump.

Little Garret was a freckled-faced and bright-eyed boy. He was friends with most every child he met, and everyone loved him, so Annie began to tell the children that his real name was Carrot on account of his bright orange hair. To her delight, the nickname stuck, and all the other children quickly latched onto it.

Annie shut her book. “What about a story?” she said once the children were settled. “Would you like to hear what really happened to little Jo?”

Carrot cut in, “No need to scare the children any more than the storm is doing.” 

Annie ignored Carrot and continued, invigorated by all the dozens of eyes looking up to her. “I was awake the night that Joseph disappeared, right here, reading my book when it happened. I heard a holler from the attic. I saw what really happened to him, and he didn’t run away as Mistress says…”

All eyes went to the mistress who sat looking out the window, biting her fingernails. The wind sounded like a steam train rushing past the house just inches away. It was unlikely that Mistress would allow Annie to continue claiming she had lied, but she seemed well enough distracted by whatever was happening outside to not care. 

“I didn’t hear anything!” Carrot argued, trying to make his voice deep. It cracked and wavered. 

Annie thought about pointing it out for a good laugh, but didn’t want to interrupt her own story. “I was the only one awake! I know what really happened.” 

The children leaned in, eyes wide.

“Goblins!” Annie burst. “He was stolen by ‘em… I checked his bed, I checked the rafters, I checked the cubbyhole and the chimney flue! I checked the whole house, I guess… but I still heard him hollering and crying somewhere in the house. I ran to the window and looked out over the fields, and there I saw him, being dragged by goblins into the forest…”

Baby began to cry.

“And that’s that.” Annie leaned back into her chair. Satisfied. “That’s all I saw; they took him right through the ceiling. I found his teddy in the rafters. He never goes anywhere without his teddy.” Her eyes fluttered up to the slatted wood floor above their heads. “I can still hear him hollering. Can’t you?” 

The wind howled, spiking the fire. Blue flames sputtered out at the children like fingers. Even Annie jumped a little. 

“It’s just a story!” Carrot said, calming the children. 

“It’s not a story!” Annie insisted, “I saw the goblins with my own eyes, and they aren’t short and stout as you think! They were tall, and they were made of shadow and grey slop.”

The children gasped and protested. Some laughed, and others began to cry. It was exactly as Annie had hoped.

“Shush now!” Carrot clapped his hands, grabbing everyone’s attention. “There are no goblins!”

“There is a goblin hole at the end of the creek! That’s where they took him. Just this morning I heard a crying and a shouting coming from it.” 

“Why, Joseph?” Baby cried. 

“He forgot to say his prayers…” Annie leaned back. “We all said our prayers, but not little Jo. He was pouting because he wanted to stay up and catch all them lightning bugs. That’s why they took em. Goblins don’t like pouters. You know what they say about goblins, don’t you?” Annie paused. “When the moon is grey, and the blaze flickers blue. When the crickets quit, and the wind goes ‘woooo!’. When you hear the knock, then you better give a shout… because the goblins will get you if you DON’T WATCH OUT!”

Now, more of the children were crying, some even sobbing into the arms of the older children. 

 Annie jumped from her seat and pounced in front of Baby, twisting her face into an unpleasant scowl just as the fire spiked again. Rain began to pound on the window violently. 

The children screamed so loud that they almost missed the knock on the door. 

 Suddenly, the room was silent. Even the wind seemed to have died down just for a moment.

Mistress sat up as if waking from a deep sleep.

“Who’s there?” Annie slowly stood, the cocky smile on her lips replaced by a fearful scowl. 

“It’s just the wind!” Carrot said, unsuccessfully trying to mask the fear in his voice. 

Another knock. Mistress began to walk to the door, unfazed. Her eyes glazed over as if she were daydreaming. 

“What’s wrong with you, old hag!? Don’t open it!” Annie backed up to the fireplace, casting a dancing shadow of her silhouette across the wall. “Nothing good happens after midnight! Remember?”

Mistress ignored her, as if she couldn’t hear her at all, and began to unlatch the lock. 

“Stop! Stop!” The children protested. But it was too late. 

Mistress opened the door, just a crack, and peered out into the stormy night. She saw no danger. The night was peaceful, and the moon was full. It was a beautiful night. 

She shut the door and latched it. Behind her, the children had fallen silent. 

Slowly, she turned. Her eyes widened, and she covered her mouth in a horrified gasp.

Two black shadows, tall as the rafters, stood on either side of Annie, holding each arm. Her face was pale and gaunt, frozen in a fearful scowl. 

One last howl of wind down the chimney fed the fire to burst through the hearth, and Annie let out a harrowing cry as the goblins dragged her up the chimney with such force that her slippers stayed in place on the ornate rug where she stood just moments before. 

Annie was never seen again. 

Nothing good ever happens after midnight, and the children never did forget little Orphan Annie and the lesson she taught them that day. They passed the story to their children and to their grandchildren around the fireplace on cold, stormy nights when the fire flickered blue, and the wind howled, warning them to mind their teachers, say their prayers, and never mock, steal, or pout. Because if you listen closely, you can still hear Annie shout. And the goblins will get you if you DON’T. WATCH. OUT.