If They Hear You...
By: Gabriella Balcom
“You ate the pie,” Akara accused.
“No, I didn’t,” her husband, Davath, protested.
“You’ve taken extras before, and this is no different.”
“Yes, I have in the past, but I swear it wasn’t me this time.”
“I don’t believe you.” Akara glared at him. “Before, I just wondered if you were the culprit, but now I’m sure of it. You may not want me to fuss at you, but the story you made up is crazy. You should’ve come up with something more believable.”
“What I told you isn’t crazy at all. I know you’re not originally from this village, but everyone knows about the Mrenh kongveal and what they do.”
“The very idea is ludicrous. There’s no such thing as little people, and certainly not magical ones. I know that and so do you.”
“Shhh. Keep your voice down.”
“Why?”
“They can be terribly mischievous, and they’re not known for being forgiving. If they hear what you’ve saying about them…”
The next morning, Akara woke to her hair tied in multiple knots. Many holes were in her favorite shirt, although none had been there the day before. Her shoes were full of curdled milk, and her needles and thread were missing.
Davath grinned, and a snicker escaped his lips. His wife glared at him, and he wisely said nothing and wiped all expression off his face.
It took Akara a long time to get her hair untied, but she finally did. Afterward, she rinsed out her shoes, put them in the sun to dry, and switched over to doing the laundry, cleaning, and cooking. While doing her baking, she had the strange sensation she was being watched. She glanced around herself and sighed. She baked extra cakes and left one out with a humble apology.
The next day, her missing sewing supplies lay on the kitchen table. Her shirt was beside them, now neatly mended.
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