When you were all little, what were your favorite things to do for Christmas? Caroling, Christmas parades, gingerbread cookie decorating? You know, fun stuff, stuff you'd see on just about every Hallmark channel movie, right? Hell, you probably even got to go out and pelt your little brother and sister in the face with snowballs because you actually lived somewhere where there was snowfall like that.

Oh, and excuse me but how could I forget the big man himself? Santa, the world's greatest -- and biggest -- cat burglar.

Okay, okay... Look, I'm not trying to be Ebeneezer fuckin' Scrooge here (though God knows I might damn well have every reason to do so), just... for reasons you'll see, Christmas wasn't a time of cheer for me growing up. Back to the earlier question, though, what were some of your favorite things to do at Christmas time? I'll bet no one says "Telling ghost stories".

I can tell you're scratching your head now wondering "What the hell is this guy going on about? Telling ghost stories? This is Christmas, not Halloween."

Well, besides the fact that it is part of a popular Christmas jingle, I would have honestly agreed with you. Thing is, That's exactly what it was like growing up for me. Now I'm going to broaden my earlier question a bit. Instead of Christmas time activities, I want you to now think of every possible "Ghost Story" you've heard up to this point -- Christmas related or otherwise -- and I want you to tell me if you'd ever been told about something called the "Blue Elves".

I'll give you a moment to think on that one...

Nothing? Figured. Worth a shot, I guess.

Well, to put it simply, the "Blue Elves" were something my dad used to tell me about all the time. It was just me and him growing up. I never knew my mother. For the longest time, I was almost convinced I didn't actually have a mother. The old man wouldn't ever talk about her and, looking back on those days, I can't ever remember seeing any old photos of him and any other woman. Or with me for that matter...

Now as to what they actually ARE, well, I'll let the old man tell you himself in his own words. "They're some mean little critters, Robby." he'd always tell me. He'd always have this serious look on his face too, the way all parents do when they're giving a dire warning, even when it's being dressed up in a ghost story. "They're vicious and scary elves, not like the ones that make toys. No, they like to take little boys away."

"Where do they take them, Pop?" I asked once.

"They take 'em to a dark place and give 'em away to other monsters and they never get to see their Mommas or Pops again."

"But why? Why do they wanna take little boys away?"

He always just shrugged at this and replied, "I don't know, son. They just do. Sometimes critters are just evil like that, it makes 'em happy to make children cry." He'd place his hands on my shoulders and added, "But I got you, Robby. I got you. I ain't gonna let the Blue Elves get you." He gestures to his shotgun which was almost always propped against his closet door. "But that means, boy, that you gotta stay inside when you see the lights."

"Lights?"

"Yeah, the flashin' lights. That's their callin' card. Their signal. When you see the red and blue lights, that's the Blue Elves comin', and they'll take any and every little boy they see."

By this point, I would of course be shaking in my shoes, two seconds from flooding my pants with piss. So, yeah, that's the infamous "Blue Elves". I grew up hearing that story, or at least variants of it, for a long time when I was younger. More times than not, it was out of scolding me for being out when I wasn't supposed to be, A.K.A. when the streetlamps came on.

Apparently the "Blue Elves" in our area were nocturnal, or so the old man would tell me. I suppose, in one way, I was lucky, he'd just scare me with this instead of tanning my hide or something like that. In other ways, I guess I'd have taken the whipping over this. At least, believe it or not, there's a hell of a lot less psychological damage in that, you know? Have your ass whipped a little bit, struggle sitting comfortably for the next two days to a week, then it's all over and life moves right the hell along, instead of a lifetime paranoia of something you'd never even seen before that, for all you knew, could be around any given corner at any given time.

That was me, little Robby Cutter, the boy afraid of "Blue Elves". And before you ask, no, other kids didn't know a damn thing about them, either. Therefore, also no, I wasn't taken very seriously or very well liked at the time. I didn't really care who did or didn't believe me, though (even if some of the behind my back remarks and looks they gave me in the hallways or on the playgrounds were annoying). I believed in them, because my Pop believed in them (You know how that goes, everything grownups say is always true).

Now, I should clarify that I'm talking about my early years right now. That was the first time I encountered the "Blue Elves". At least, the first time I would see the lights I was warned about.

I can't exactly remember, but I was either 8 years old or 7 1/2 going on 8 at the time, but I remember it had gotten to be around sundown that day. Pop had to work late that night and I was playing with my basketball goal outside, trying to practice for my dreams of making it into the NBA. I actually thought I'd make to the Hall of Fame (as if). Well, the sun had sank and the streetlamps had come on, but I remembered I was on this sort of "Winning Streak" if you will and I didn't wanna stop.

I looked to the garage, then down the street. Pop wasn't around. Surely, I thought, ONE TIME wasn't gonna hurt nothin', right?

Right?

It got darker and darker. The floodlight on the side of the house made it where I could see enough to keep playing (even if it obviously had a detrimental effect on my actual ability to score a goal). At one point, I ended up flubbing a layup and the ball was hurled over the basketball goal and sent bouncing into the street. Right as I stepped into the street, and I mean right as my foot touched the asphalt, I heard a high-pitched noise coming from the right end of the road that almost made me drop of a heart attack where I stood. I looked to my right and watched the road get painted with a rapid red and blue glow blinking over the hill leading onto my street.

For a moment, I was frozen where I was. The high-pitched noise grew louder, closer, and the lights got closer and closer as well, bathing me in radiant red and blue. It was slowly that Pop's words came back to me.

The lights grew and the shrieks coming from whatever it was was deafening. I heard the grinding of the asphalt charging straight for me. What in the hell? I thought, shaking violently, still unable to move. It was like someone had hit the world's "Fast forward" button so many times that everything was now just moving slowly -- "Tracking", I believe it's called. That's what was going on. The world was "Tracking", therefore my reactions were also horribly delayed.

In those moments, all I could think about was what they would look like, what would they do? Were they huge, hulking brutes with large fangs or small little goblins that would swarm me, tearing me apart bit by bit in droves? Where would they take me?

Where was Pop?

("Pop, where are you?!")

I started to imagine what the "other monsters" he told me about would be like. What were they gonna do to me? They're gonna eat me, aren't they?

A bright flash then lit up the street, which was where I finally broke and turned tail back for the house. I pumped my legs, all but flying to and inside the house and slamming the door behind me in one fluid movement. I curled up into a ball against the door then, crying and silently praying to God I was quick enough to rush back into the house before the "Blue Elves" could see me and try breaking down the door. I waited and waited, shaking.

God, Please don't let them come for me, PLEASE don't let them get me! I'm sorry God, and I'm sorry, Pop! I promise it won't happen again, just PLEASE don't let them get me!

At least 15 - 20 minutes must've passed -- I really wouldn't have known, you know how it is with a kid who's scared out of his mind, 15 or 20 minutes might as well have been 15 or 20 hours to me at that time -- with no sound or anything from the door. That was, until three loud knocks rocked against the other side. I didn't move, only looked up at the doorknob to see it jostling. Three more knocks sounded against the door, louder and harder this time.

Oh God, this is it! I'm a goner! They're gonna take me away!

("What're the other monsters gonna do to me?")

Five knocks pounded on the door.

Go away!

("I'll never see Pop again!")

The doorknob jostled harder and harder. I thought it was going to be ripped straight off the door.

What do I do?!

("What would Pop do?")

I looked over to the closet. The old man's shotgun leaned against the closet door.

Yeah, that's right, he'd blast 'em!

("But I don't know how to use a gun. Not a REAL one. How am I gonna blast it away?")

KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK

They were deafening, sounding now like they were only seconds away from just bashing the door down. From the other side, in a bellow that didn't sound even human to me -- almost demonic actually -- I heard them shout, "OPEN THIS DAMN DOOR RIGHT NOW, BOY! I KNOW YOU'RE IN THERE! YOU OPEN THIS DOOR, NOW!" I exchanged glances between the door and the shotgun. Time was up. I had to make a move.

From my crouched position, I launched myself over to the closet of Pop's room and snatched the shotgun. Like I said before, everything was happening so fast. One second, I'm braced against the door of Pop's closet, and the next, I watch the front door fly open and then BANG!

I didn't even realize my finger was on the trigger. All I remember seeing was a brief glimpse outside the door, a large figure standing with wide open eyes, a puff of smoke from the barrel of the shotgun that was followed with a sharp kick from the back of it that caused it to fly right out of my hands, and then nothing.

Everything was still. That's when I guess you could say the remote went from "Tracking" to straight up "Pause". My body locked up against the closet door while, standing in the front door, I saw not a horrific goblin mutant or large beast, but instead just Pop. My heart stopped then.

Pop just stood in the opening, wide-eyed and mouth agape. Silence formed a toxic cloud that seemed to cover the room, one that made my throat close up about as much as the shock alone. I'd done it. Dear God, I'd just done the worst thing imaginable, I'd just shot my father!

"P-Pop..." He looked at the wall next to him. I turned and saw that, probably due to lack of strength needed to properly hold the damn thing, I actually missed him by about two or three inches. I'd have thanked God for that and ran up to bear hug the absolute shit out of him if it weren't for what came next.

"What in the hell are you doing?" he yelled. In half an instant, I watched his face, which had been almost albino a second ago, flush with crimson, white-hot rage. I shrank down further into my pathetic little crouch.

"I...I-I... I thought..." I couldn't make anything come out, nothing that would have made any sense at least. Scrambled as my head was, I'm honestly still a bit shocked I could get as much as those words out then.

"Thought what, Robby? Thought you'd look cool fuckin' around with my shotgun?!" Now I was terrified. Sure I was scared to death before, but this, hearing him use THAT curse at me, that was something else to me. Understand that, yeah, his language on the regular was never the cleanest, even around me at that age then, but you know how when you were a kid and your parents had the "God help you if you make me get all the way to three", or the tried and true "Don't make me say your full name, first middle and last"? Basically the tell-tale signs that you're in some hot as hell water, right? Well, that was what that was with my old man. He only ever used strong curses like "Goddamn" or "Shit" or "Bitch" when he was exceptionally pissed off at me -- and the atomic "F-bomb" when my ass was truly in for it.

"You could've killed me, God forbid anybody else!" he shouted. His roaring, monstrous voice, I swear to this day, actually shook the house a bit. "Answer me, boy, What in the name of all that is fuckin' holy were you thinking even touchin' my shotgun like that?!"

"I... I thought you were a Blue Elf, Pop." He looked at me, pausing for a moment.

"What?" he asked.

"I thought you were a Blue Elf. I saw them coming and I thought they were trying to get through the door, so I was gonna blast 'em like you'd do, Pop." That's when I saw his face drain completely of color, turning it as white as my bedsheets were at the time.

"When?" he asked, his breathing quickening.

"J-Just a little bit ago."

"How did you see them, huh? Were you playin' out in the street after dark?" I shrank down further. I wasn't sure how much more I'd have been able to take before my heart, which by this point was essentially cutting backflips, would finally just give out. "Robby," he barked, "Answer me, were you playin' outside after dark?"

"Y-Yes." I cringed. I expected for him to fly off the handle at me or something. He didn't though. Instead, he just stood there, white-faced and scared shitless. Honestly, it's not all that much an exaggeration to say that he honestly looked even more scared than I was at the time.

"Pop, I--"

"Did they see you?"

"N-No... I-I don't think so."

"Don't think so or they didn't?"

"I don't know, I just heard a loud noise and saw the red and blue lights and ran." He threw his head back behind him to peek through the peephole of the door. I thought I could hear him muttering something under his breath while he did this. I think it may've been something like "God, please don't let them still be out there..." or maybe "They're gone, right? God, please let them be gone..."

"Pop?" I squeaked pitifully. His head jerked back around, startling me for a moment. "They're not gonna get me, are they?" For a moment, he didn't answer. Instead, I watched his face slowly fall, the anxiety and the rage completely melting away to expose a layer of warmth underneath. A layer of vulnerability. This only further scared me rather than comfort me.

I wasn't ever used to seeing the old man this worked up. Of course, I wasn't used to actually driving him to this point before, either. "No son." he said, coming away from the door toward me with his arms outstretched. "No, they won't get you. You're safe now, you hear?"

I nodded my head against his chest as he held me close. "No, they won't get you, Robby, but damn it, I mean it when I say that your ass has to be in the house when the sun goes down." He looked toward the front door again and said "Especially around this time of year, they're far more likely to be out n' about when you ain't expecting it."

"What do you mean, Pop?" He looked at me again. Now he raised his eyebrows in confusion.

"Don't you know what day it is comin' up?" I stared blankly at him, blinking. "It's Christmas Eve just this Friday." This actually made him smile a bit. I, though relieved to see him loosening up a bit, was admittedly not as thrilled as you'd expect a kid to be when hearing this sort of thing. Great how that works, isn't it?

Well anyway, he let go of me and headed toward the kitchen. I stayed against the closet door for another moment, staring at the front door. I exchanged brief glances from it to the buckshot holes in the wall beside it. Several things went through my head at the exact same time.

What would've happened if that wasn't Pop at the door and I'd missed? What would've happened if I'd not missed? What would've happened if I'd not ran from the street when I had? What would've happened to me if they had seen me?

What if they hadn't left?

I closed my eyes and inhaled. Swallowing down as much of the anxiety as I could, I slowly got up and headed to my room. I threw myself on my bed and laid there, unable to sleep, still imagining one of them prowling around outside the house, looking for a way in to get at me. Morning came, and I was none too excited for it, despite it being a Saturday.

That experience left quite an impression on me for years to come after that night. Another 7 or 8 years, in fact. In that time, I always, and I mean always, made it a point to be indoors when the sun went down. And when it got to me wintertime, I'd be inside even before then. More than just this, though, I was wary even out in the day to day world.

So, like I'd said before, I was a little chicken, always looking over my shoulder and screaming in abject terror anytime I heard anything that even remotely resembled the sounds I heard that night. Aside from essentially killing any hopes of having a meaningful social life, this behavior also caused concern with the teachers and other adults at the school. Pop wasn't as much concerned about it, though. How could he be, he was no better.

Something I should go ahead and mention now is that I was heavily sheltered all my life. I know, you're probably going "Yeah, no shit genius", but understand that it wasn't until much later that I realized just how much. If I could get a do-over, I'd have likely been a little more cautious, asked a few more questions, such as what the "Blue Elves" actually looked like, why they're most common at night, and who did he actually know that'd been taken by them.

I was 16 and a half the next time I'd encounter the "Blue Elves". By that time, I finally managed to actually loosen up a bit and relax as far as constantly looking over my shoulder and/or ducking and covering when I heard similar sounds like I'd mentioned. Make no mistake, I still would be inside before it got dark. Even when the old man himself said I could, telling me to just be cautious (No longer even mentioning the "Blue Elves" at this point), I still elected to be inside at home. What better way to be careful than to guarantee being away from trouble than to be home, you know?

I guess you could say that it was more of just a reflex for me by that point. I wasn't having anymore nightmares or anything about the situation, just an instinct that kept me from wanting to be out late at night, you know? Eventually though, I started getting curious again. Brave might be a better word for it.

I remember it happened when I was spending the night at my friend's house. Ash and I were staying up late playing 2K8 when I thought I started hearing it again. It was a heated game, plenty of hooting and hollering, along with plenty of "Suck it, asshole" and "Come at me, bitch" -- standard fare -- so when I heard it, the high-pitched sound, I almost didn't actually pick up on it. Admittedly, I thought at first it was a sound from the game.

But when I noticed that it was persisting even after pausing it, that's when I started to panic again. "Dude, what's up, we still playing or what?"

"Hang on, do you hear that?" I cupped my ear to listen. The sounds were getting closer.

"Hear what?"

"That sound." I started trying to emulate the sound as best I could. "You hear that?"

"You mean the cops? Yeah dude, I mean, they're always out here at this time of night."

"Cops?" I asked.

"Yeah..." he answered, confused. "You know, 'Bad boys, bad boys, whatcha gonna do? a-whatcha gonna do when they come for you..." I just stared blankly at him, blinking. "Oh come on, tell me you've seen that show."

I shook my head. My eyes slowly left him and moved to the window at the right of him. Red and blue flashes began lighting up the small area of the living room from the window. I started shaking.

"Yo, Rob, are you okay?" Ash asked. I didn't respond. My eyes were frozen to the window. "Rob?"

"Huh?"

"Bro, what's up, seriously, you're starting to make me nervous here." My eyes darted back and forth from him to the window. "It's just the cops, man, chill out."

I looked back to him. He was staring at me like I was losing my mind, which in all fairness, he may not have been completely wrong. Thing is, like the "Blue Elves", I'd never seen cops before either. Like I said, HEAVILY sheltered, can't stress that enough.

So I'm standing there, looking like I've seen the gates of Hell open up, both terrified and utterly confused at the same time because I don't know if I can believe what I'm even hearing is real, or if anything I heard before was real. Ash was the first to break from out awkward little staring contest to move to the window. Every instinct I had in me itched to rush over and block him from trying to open the window like I knew he was about to.

I stayed still, though. I wanted to cry out to him to stop, but I didn't. I suppose, like I said, being as confused as I was, I sort of wanted to see them this time. I wanted to know if what Ash was saying was true, or if Pop would be proven right again. Looking back, I feel like either one would've been detrimental to me. If Ash was right, it meant everything I knew before was a lie and would've led me down a rabbit hole that would only lead to rock bottom if you know what I mean. If Pop was right, then just like that night years before, he would've opened the window and exposed the both of us and this time, we would've been screwed.

As it happened, the former would be proven true when Ash pulled up the blinds and revealed to me a couple of police cruisers speeding by the house. "See, nothing to be afraid of. Now can we get back to our game because I can't just let you keep a leg up on me." I numbly watched the cruisers speed by the house.

Nothing to be afraid of...

Just cops...

("... They take little boys away and give 'em to other monsters and they don't ever get to see their mommas or Pops again...")

Just cops...

"I'll say this much, I feel bad for the poor bastard they're after."

I broke from the window and turned to him, asking, "What do you mean?"

"Well, usually when they're flying down the road like that, somebody's about to get popped."

"Popped?" He made a face at me like I'd just told him that the moon was made of cheese.

"Seriously? Dude, what rock have you lived under all your life?" I just looked pathetically at the floor. "Okay, look, those sounds are called "Police sirens". They're used when cops," he pointed to the window again, "Are either chasing somebody or pulling somebody over, or to get through traffic. Point is, they use them when someone's in trouble. When they find the bastard they're looking for, they arrest them, a.k.a. "Popping them."

I looked out the window again. In the distance down the other side of the street, I could faintly see the taillights of the last cruiser growing smaller and smaller, the siren getting fainter and fainter.

When they're after somebody...

Just the cops...

("... When you see the red and blue lights, that's the Blue Elves comin'...")

It means somebody's about to get popped...

Nothing to be afraid of...

("... They take little boys away and give 'em to other monsters and they don't ever get to see their mommas or Pops again...")

Just the cops...

I wondered then what Pop was so afraid of all of my life. If it were "Just the cops", like Ash was telling me, then why was Pop so worried about me being taken away? Why was he telling me about these monsters, the "Blue Elves"?

"When you say "After somebody", who do you mean?" He shrugged his shoulders.

"I don't know man, bad people. You know, rapists, drug dealers, stuff like that."

"Who?" He let out an exasperated sigh.

"Seriously? God, I was kidding when I asked what rock you'd been living under."

"Look, I'm... I'm sorry, okay? I was never told about any of this stuff. My Pop always just told me to stay away from the Blue Elves." His eyes shot out their sockets at me.

"The what?"

"Th-The... The..." I trailed off. Somehow I knew what I was going to say was utterly moronic. "Blue Elves"? Seriously?

"Nothing bro, forget about it." I sat back down beside him on the floor and un-paused the game. I ended up getting my ass kicked pretty hard after that, but I couldn't have cared less, about 2K or basketball in general for that matter. No, my mind was trapped in a shift between what'd just happened, what happened 8 years before, and everything that led up to that point.

It wasn't long after that, after getting bored mopping the floor with me at the game, that we decided to turn in for the night. Well, he did -- I was wide awake yet again.

Just the cops, nothing to be afraid of...

("... Take little boys away from their Mommas and Pops...")

Nothing to be afraid of...

Just... Cops...

I ended up leaving early the next morning after scarfing down two of his blueberry PopTarts and headed home. That whole time, one thing, and one thing only was on my mind, find Pop and ask him why he'd been lying to me all these years. Thankfully, despite it being winter and, just my dumbass luck, not having brought a jacket with me the night before, I had the whole 1.5 mile walk to contemplate both just what to say to the old man and how to say it. Had I not, I likely would've gone off on him as soon as I saw him.

Could you really blame me if I had, though?

Anyway, when I got home, I found him in the garage, fiddling with something in his small little workshop area. "H-Hey Pop?" I asked, taking a deep breath. He looked up at me.

"Well hey there, you have fun at your friend's?" He winked with a sly grin and added, "You two stay outta trouble?" before chuckling. "Nah, I'm just yankin' yer chain, what's up, son?"

"Pop, I wanna ask you about the cops." I seized up immediately when I said this. I half expected to not even be able to finish that sentence before he would lay into me. As it turned out, when I opened my eyes, he was just starting at me.

"What about 'em?"

"Well, you remember what you always said about the Blue Elves and the lights?" He nodded. "Well, last night, at Ash's house, I saw those lights again, just like I did back when I was a kid and he said those were just cops."

His eyebrows raised. "Y'all saw what?"

"W-We saw the lights, Pop, but--"

"Damn it, Robby, what have I told you about stayin' inside after dark!"

"No, Pop, you don't understand, we weren't--"

"After all this time, God, why can't you just do as you're damn told?!" He threw down the tools he was working with. The tools hit the ground with a loud clatter, forcing my heart to skip quite a few beats.

"B-But Pop..."

"No, don't even try it. Just get your ass in the house. I need to not look at you for a while before I do or say somethin' I end up regrettin'." I opened my mouth like I was about to try defending my case but a quick glare from the old man quickly shut me right the hell up and I scurried inside as hurriedly as I could.

For the next 2 or 3 hours, I laid on my bed, confused as all hell and wondering just what my father was keeping from me. Why was he so afraid of cops? Ash said they only took bad people away, right? My Pop wasn't a bad person...

Right?

Nothing to be afraid of...

It was a few hours later when I heard the door to my room open and footsteps coming toward my bed. I felt Pop sit down on my bed. My back was facing him as I stared at the wall. "Hey champ." he said in a low, apologetic sort of tone. I made no movement. "You feel like talkin'?"

I didn't move. He sighed and said, "Yeah, I uh... I guess I can't really blame you there." Another moment passed in complete silence before he went on, "Listen, I... I wanna apologize for bein' such a jerk earlier. In fact, I wanna apologize for always bein' such a jerk like I've been all this time."

I felt his hand pat my back gingerly. "I want you to understand that I love you and want you to be safe and happy. You know that, right?" I didn't respond. He sighed again and continued, "Robby, there's things I haven't told you and there's a damn good reason why. Your friend was right, yes, the cops do use flashing lights like I've told you about. But they weren't what I'd been warnin' you about all this time."

My eyes widened at the wall. My body stiffened. "Not entirely, anyways."

"What do you mean?" I asked, unable to keep the silence anymore.

"Oh, so now he speaks." Pop joked with a dry chuckle. He sighed before saying, "Like I said, there's things I haven't told you, Rob, because I wasn't sure you'd really understand. For that, I am sorry, and I'm sorry it's caused me to be a right arse with you sometimes." He paused before adding, "Look here for a moment, will ya?"

I shuffled onto my back and looked at him. He held up a book in his right hand. It looked like one of my school binders. "This is everything I have ever found about the Blue Elves. I started lookin' into 'em after what happened the night your mama died."

"Wait, what?!" I exclaimed. He looked at me startled for a second before putting his face into his palm, muttering "Jesus Christ, son, I'm sorry."

"Pop, what are you talking about?" He looked back up at me with the saddest expression I'd ever seen on his face before.

"It was just shortly after you turned about one or two, started walkin' and everything. Your momma and I were takin' you to your first Christmas parade." His mournful face gave way just slightly to part a dry, empty smile across his lips. "God, I remember you just smilin' an' gigglin' your little head off. You loved them lights." His smile fell again and he continued, "You saw a couple that you liked and so you started walkin' off while your Momma and I were takin' a picture."

He paused again, this time to choke down a sob that was fighting to be released. drawing a breath, he began again, "Two seconds. We looked away for two seconds and found you gone. You'd headed off toward them flashin' red and blue lights and your Momma just about had a heart attack when I luckily managed to spot you in the crowd. You were just stumblin' your way through. It was a miracle, honestly that you weren't trampled with as many people that were there."

The whole time he spoke, my body was a statue, completely hollow and lifeless. Numb.

"You were halfway across to the other side of where we were by the time I found you and your momma took off after you. I remember the red and blue lights got brighter n' brighter the closer you got to it. Your momma made it to you before I could and grabbed you up, but wasn't able to catch sight of 'em in time before I saw a group of two or three of 'em bowl her over and start tearin' away at her. She was screaming, clutchin' onto you for dear life. I ran as fast I could over to her and I managed to throw 'em off her.

"They started gettin' at me, too." He rolled up his shirt to reveal a multitude of slash marks across his lower back. I'd never seen them before, and I had, I'd never have guessed they were from a violent conflict like this. "I was able to run 'em off..." he continued, looking deader and deader on the face with each passing word, "The ambulance came as quick as they could, but your Momma was hurt way too badly by that point. They never found 'em, either, the Blue Elves, that is, if they even believed me when I told them about them."

"Wh-Where did they go?" I asked.

"I don't know. Of everything I was able to learn about 'em, what little there was to learn about 'em, that's something I've never been able to find." He handed me the binder. I opened it and started flipping through. "It ain't much," he said, "But right there is everything I could find."

"How did you come across all of this?"

"After the night your momma died, I started looking for them. I wanted to see where they were and what they were, so I started reachin' out to anyone that was willin' to listen and might know a little something. So far, that's all it there."

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