Nightmare in Elm Trees

The trees call me Eddie. You’ve sort of got to accept the name your family gives you no matter what, but I like mine. I think it’s a great one. Better than some of my friends’, I can tell you that.

Living with the elms is wonderful. They’re very welcoming, actually—especially to the lost ones. I might have been a lost one once upon a time, but I don’t remember clearly enough, so you don’t have to quote me.

The elms start off great and stay great. They’re gentle, gracious, lithe, sweet, they give great hugs, and they sing lovely lullabies all day and all night. The birds have been onto them for years, but they keep their assets close to the vest, it seems. Hah!

That’s good, though. I like people and everything, of course, but sometimes I wish they would keep to their own. I used to want everybody to join the elms, but that was before.

I miss before. Before the screams.

Can you keep a secret? Promise? I don’t want Ellis and Everett to find out and make fun of me, too.

It turns out, I’m kind of a freak. I’m the only one who can hear the screams, I guess. That kind of bothers me even more, and not just because some of the others don’t believe me and the rest laugh. I think it means that the screams are in my jurisdiction only. They’re close to me.

The elms used to be very peaceful and quiet. I don’t know why there had to be a change, but I know what it was. Three people came into the elms for the first time. The first time since I’ve been here, at least.

First, it was one person. He made all kinds of racket for a while on his own, and I could never quite locate him exactly. I found out quickly that I can’t see people very well. I sure can hear them, though. I’m sure they’re the source of the screams.

The night the screams started was the same night the first person was joined by two other people. There were noises going all through the elms from the man’s footsteps and the woman’s talking. The third person—a small voice I guess must belong to a child—didn’t make much noise at first. I had thought there were only two people for a while. Oh, once they reached the Nightmare Place, though, the third person was obvious, and there were screams galore.

I thought that night would last forever. Every time it started to go quiet, it came back up again. It was worse at first. The woman screamed the most that night. From what I know of people, it was every kind of scream people can make: angry, horrified, hurt, frightened. When it finally went actually quiet, it was almost morning. And it wasn’t over.

Ever since then, the screams have come at random. Staccato, legato, one after another or one by itself, sometimes every day, sometimes every couple of days. They echo through the elms and pierce my ears and all of me to the core. I think the Nightmare Place moves around, because the screams come from a lot of different places. Either that, or I stink at locating people-sounds.

All three people scream. I don’t know why. That part is what makes it so sad to me, I think. I wish I could take over and stop whatever was causing it. I wish they would stop and just go away, because they’re in the elms without enjoying the elms. And they’re starting to ruin the elms. For me, at least.

Nobody else hears it, so I’m sure the Nightmare Place stays in my area, as if on purpose. I think it’s maybe haunting me. I know; ironic. Everybody says that. Last week, I brought it up again—I can’t bear it for long unless I can tell somebody about it and ask for help—and Great-elm Ethel said, “Eidolon, stop letting it haunt you. You haunt it.”

But that’s easier said than done, isn’t it, Great-elm? Especially easy for an elm to say. Elms don’t have to try to haunt people.

I think I’m going to have to try to find it sometime and prove it exists, and then take care of the issue. I wouldn’t be surprised if there were skeletons in the closet there. I could boot them out, assuming I could find them.

It’s been much too long. I’m a little scared that I’ll become a real monster if I keep hearing them, too—and real monsters can’t stay with the elms. I might become a lost one if it doesn’t stop. So, if I hear any screams tonight, I’ll do what I can. I’ll let you know how it goes.

I did hear the screams again tonight. They’re blood-chilling, I think—if I had blood, it would be chilled by now. I tried to track them down just by listening hard, but nothing showed up. Still, I heard the peoples’ voices between the screams. I couldn’t understand anything they said, but I could hear their voices and most movements. I think the first person, the man, is the problem. Except that, sometimes, he leaves the two other people alone, and there’s elm-shaking screaming for hours until, suddenly, silence. Then, he comes back by the time the next screams start. He started it, so I think it’s his fault. He brought the other two people in the first place.

Maybe he’s a monster. He seems to be highly absorbed with the other two people, especially the woman. If he’s a monster, he could be causing the screams, even from far away.

I really wish they would all leave the elms. I can barely rest anymore, and it hurts me to the core every time I hear the screams. I miss the peace we had here before. I want it back.

I run through the elms now, trying to enjoy what uncertain peace I have still. The leaves tremble when I pass by, which makes me laugh. Maybe Great-elm Ethel is right. If I haunt the people, they can’t haunt me. And they might leave, then! And the elms could be happy and sweet once more!

I have to find them, though, before I can do any haunting. I’ll search again right now, but it’ll be harder if I can’t hear the screams and if they’ve moved since last night.

“Hey, Eddie!” Evan shouts as he flutters closer.

“Hi,” I say. I stop, but I hope it doesn’t take long. I need to find the screaming people and-or the Nightmare Place so I can make it all stop.

“Where are you going?” Evan asks.

“Somewhere. To find something,” I say, trying to be vague so he won’t make fun of me. He’s nice until anything about the screams comes up, and then he gets rude like all the other ghosts.

A line shows up over his eyes. Maybe I wasn’t vague enough. Uh oh.

“Find what?” he asks.

I look back at the leaves. “I don’t wanna say, and you don’t wanna know, so I’m not gonna say,” I decide. That sounds fair to me.

Evan laughs, but it’s a chill, not a breeze. “Are you trying to find those noises again? Scared of things that go bump in the night?” His face has a big moon-grin now.

I shake my head. “I’m not scared!” I lie. “I just wanna find it so I can get rid of it, and you would, too, if you could hear it!”

“I don’t hear it because it’s not there, Eddie!” Evan cackles.

“They are, too—” I start to say, but I quickly shut up because when you speak of the Devil, the Devil appears.

Screaming rips through the elms from pretty much everywhere. I can’t even begin to guess what direction it starts in. My shape shivers like it always does during the screams, and my head starts to feel like a whirlwind.

“Oh, no,” I mutter. This can’t happen in front of Evan! Then again, maybe he’ll see the proof this time. Can he at least hear this?

I look at him to find out, but he doesn’t let on if he does hear it.

“What’s wrong with you, Eddie?”

“You can’t hear it!” I shout through the noise. I can’t hear myself unless I raise my voice as loud as I can. This one is long and high and thin, more shrill than a lot of others—it’s the third person, the little one.

I shudder again involuntarily. It feels a little like my borders are trying to fold in on me in places, but they can’t make up their minds about where exactly. So, I just feel more shapeless and hollow than usual. I feel even more dizzy, and everywhere inside my shape feels like icy torrents instead of the regular wind.

“It’s getting worse!” I wail. Am I turning into a real monster already? Why do the screams do this to me? Why can’t Evan hear it?

“Eddie, calm down! You should talk to Elm-aunt Edna,” Evan suggested. “She can help you to stop being crazy.”

I sort of wish I can scream at Evan. Maybe if I could mimic the sound, he’d be quiet.

I want to try it. I gather up all the air I can, but I think some of it is leaking out of my shaking shape. I cringe into myself a little bit to hide from the noise, closing my eyes, before gulping in as much air as I can and then letting loose.

“I’m not crazy!” I roar. Unfortunately, it’s too breathy, and my voice is too thin to have the same sound. It’s a ghostly howl instead of a scream.

When I open my eyes again, Evan isn’t here. Where did he go? Did I scare him? Probably he’s just off to laugh at me and tell the others how insane I am. Whatever.

“Go ahead!” I howl again. Maybe if I howl while the people scream, it’ll help the other ghosts or the elms to hear what I’m hearing.

It’s too loud over here. Does that mean I’m closer to the Nightmare Place? Can I find it this time?

I soar as fast as I can; going fast feels a little bit more like I can contain myself even inside my rebellious borders. I scan under the leaves and branches, around trunks, high and low, behind hills and boulders, rocks, in the tall grass. Nothing to be found. All the while, the scream keeps torturing me. I need to duck for cover, I think, and hide until it’s over.

I search for a hollow tree nearby to jump into and burrow in. The bark sort of dulls the screaming, but not enough to stop the complaints from battering me.

It doesn’t last too much longer, though. Praises be. This has to end. It has to. It’s turning me into a monster, I’m sure of it.

Maybe I should find Evan and say sorry for howling at him. That wasn’t very nice of me, I guess. But he was calling me crazy.

I squirm back out of the tree and fly through the leaves. I want to find the sun. Upward is easy. Once I get out over the leaves, it is easier to breathe for a little while. The light is a little uncomfortable if I’m in it for too long, but it sort of undoes the ugliness of the screams. It warms up what’s too cold.

I take a deep breath in. From now on, my purpose is solely to find the Nightmare Place. It has to go. If I have to fight a monster or frighten the people away as if I am the monster, so be it. This is the last straw.

I’m exhausted. It’s been a week at least. I whished through the elms on the search for the Nightmare Place all day, but I still find nothing. Am I just the worst eidolon ever, or is this a specifically trying magic? Did I offend a witch somehow? I don’t think so, because I can’t remember ever really talking to a witch.

I won’t stop, anyway. I will not rest until I’ve found the Nightmare Place or the people, whichever comes first.

The past few days have been strangely quiet. I haven’t heard a scream in longer than I remember since the people came. Is that good or bad? Of course, I’m happy I haven’t heard them, since they’re awful, but are they gone? Or have I actually gone crazy? Maybe the Nightmare Place has moved out of my jurisdiction entirely!

Wouldn’t that be nice?

I need to make sure, though. I can’t risk them suddenly reappearing.

Deep into the night, I find something at last: a clearing in the forest! There’s a little house here that’s made out of broken trees. Poor trees. None of them were elms, though, so I’m not too worried.

I get closer. Is this the Nightmare Place? Finally? Have I found it? People are the ones who stay in houses. Other creatures don’t do that.

This house feels oddly welcoming to me, which I didn’t expect and don’t know if I like. I’m not a monster already, am I? Is that why I can’t hear the screams anymore? Maybe it’s a false front, hoping to invite me in for trouble.

Well, I’m ready for it. Come my way, skeletons and ghouls!

“You can’t break eidolon!” I whisper. I ooze through a window into a little room. No people in here. Strange. It isn’t a big place, and there are three people.

If this is the Nightmare Place, it’s quite comfortable for me. I feel right at home. Maybe there have been other spirits here—it feels like that, kind of like a spirit party location. Maybe that's why the people were screaming: they were scared of the spirits who came.

I check the other room for the people. Only one. The first one, the man. Did the two others leave? Is that why the elms have been so quiet for the past few days?

A joy starts to fill me. They must be gone! The man didn’t seem to be all right with the other two leaving before.

How nice! I only have to frighten this person, then—and the elms will be free and as they were!

I giggle on instinct. The man reacts. Did he hear me?

He looks around with wide eyes and a suddenly more colorless face. He says something, makes a people-sound.

This could be fun.

I look around for something quick and easy. The door! I can push it a little. It squeaks in a clever way. I think the broken trees are still alive—they’re helping me!

The man makes another noise. I like it. It’s funny.

I knock over the wooden chair, too, and I laugh again at the way the man jumps. He looks around sharply, obviously frightened. This doesn’t take much at all! I don’t think I’ll need to haunt him for very long before he’ll break.

He can’t see me, not as I am, but maybe I can draw something…

I go to the window. The window can be helpful. It’s glass. Glass is easy to put shapes on. I laugh on it the way Evan laughed at me earlier, hoping to chill it a little. It works, so I can quickly drag my finger over it and write a message:

L e a v e t h e e l m s

I laugh again at the way the man gasps. If I can put marks with my finger, can I do it with my face?

I push my face on the glass to see. The man screams. I do hate that noise so much, but it’s not as bad as before, because the man leaves right away. He runs out of the house and through the trees. I hop out of the friendly house to see him go, and I laugh.

He’s gone! The people are all gone!

“The elms are clean again!” I shout in triumph, flying in a few circles before whisking after the man to make sure he leaves. He’s gone after not too long, and hopefully never to return.

There. Great-elm Ethel was right. From now on, no one haunts me again. If another person ever comes into the elms, I’m haunting them.