My grandmother tried to gouge out my eyes when I was a baby. At age fourteen, I started experimenting with witch jars.

My grandmother was a caring woman. She never forgave herself for the curse she handed down to me. I was too young to understand how she felt when she died, but I think she knew I loved her. I never blamed her for anything that happened to me. I didn't even blame her for having children. I believe the Erlking would have forced her to have them anyhow if it hadn't been out of her own free will.
I bore witness to her passing. I was the last person she saw before she died. In hindsight, I'm grateful for that, but I regret it at the same time. I know the Erlking wouldn't have killed her if I hadn't been around. He did it to prove a point and even though I hate to say it, he succeeded. After Grandma's death, I felt myself painfully aware of just how helpless I was against him. There was nobody who could protect me and thinking differently had cost someone their life. The only place where he couldn't follow me appeared to be my home.
For a long time, I thought that was due to all the protective charms we had lying around. When I was fourteen, I therefore had the idea to make a witch jar of my own, a really small one I could always carry around with me. My witch jar was filled with all the same ingredients as the others back at home. I slid it into my jacket before leaving the house. I of course told my mom and dad before leaving. I didn't want to stray far from the house, I just wanted to leave its safety to test my theory and so I did.
He spoke up the second I set foot out the door. I actually had not talked back to him much after Grandma's death. I would give curt replies, say the odd full sentence or two from time to time, but never more than that. I hated him with all my might but I didn't dare infuriate him again. I'd like to say I did what little talking just to appease him, but truth be told, I wasn't very lively at the time. I think I hardly spoke at all. It's difficult to explain the mood I was in. I was scared for my mom and dad, afraid they would suffer the same fate if I were to act against him.
They were the only two people I had left to talk to, by the way. As for school, I was satisfied with my classmates ignoring me. There was a group of kids who would slight me every chance they'd get, and I would spend most of my breaks hiding from them outside in some deserted corner of the schoolyard or in toilet stalls. All in all, I had nowhere to draw the energy to rebel against any of it. I didn't try to change things for the better. I was exhausted, both from life in general and from the Erlking's influence. "I'll be good," I'd told him. I had meant it. Obedience, voluntary or not, was the only type of behavior he tolerated.
"What's that in your pocket?" he asked the instant I marched out the door with the jar on me. I didn't answer. The cold autumn breeze hit me with a chill and I pulled my jacket tighter around my shoulders. Something was off about his voice though. I wasn't sure of it at first, but it sounded a little quieter than usual.
"Jody," he said in an almost strict tone. "What's that in your pocket?"
I could hear him just fine but it came out noticeably muffled. If that was the effect of the charm, it was a bit disappointing, although better than nothing of course.
"Do I have to repeat myself again, Jody?" he inquired sharply.
"Witch jar," I muttered as I sat down on the porch and pulled my knees up to my chest.
He kept quiet for a little while. I had expected him to mock me, but when he spoke up again, his voice was rather gentle. "You know that won't be getting you anywhere, right?"
I nodded against the fabric of my jeans. He sighed. "I miss the times when you used to talk to me more often," he confessed. "Sure, all you'd really do is cuss me out but at least I got to hear your voice." He didn't sound angry. At first I found that relieving, but there was a thoughtfulness in his tone that unsettled me.
"What's that mean?"
"It means," he began, "we can either go back to that or you'll need to find other ways to entertain me."
"I'm sure you'll come up with something," I replied listlessly. "You're creative."
"I will, don't worry. In the meantime, put that jar back inside. It's not so much hindering me as it is annoying."
"It makes your voice easier to listen to," I argued.
"Oh, please. What are you, five? Put the toy back up in the attic with your dolls or whatever."
"If it's that useless, why shouldn't I keep it?" I continued my lukewarm defense.
"You know what? Keep it. Have fun with it." He sighed. "Can't argue with stupid."
I did keep it on me, just like I had told him. Just the day after that however, I found out what it actually could do. I had school that day, and the second the bell rang to announce that break time had started, I stood up from my chair and headed straight out the door. I was the first one to leave the room and the reason for that sat just one seat behind me. Her name was Becky. She was neither particularly smart, nor athletic or pretty, but she did have a talent for making the lives of people she didn't like as hard as possible. The schoolyard was her hunting grounds. You get my point.
She had spent the class throwing tiny bits of crumpled up paper at me, a promise that I had her full attention that day and that she would see to me soon enough. The last time she'd been in that mood, she had stalked me all the way over to the toilet stall which I had eventually locked myself into. She and her little boyfriend as well as another girl that always followed her around had waited for me outside, spitting words I don't care to repeat to me the whole time. They had only left when the bell rang and I actually ended up being late to class because I didn't want to go back out right after them in fear of running into them in the hallway.
Needless to say, I was expecting something of that sort to follow. I wasn't too scared, more worried I guess. I didn't want to spend nearly half an hour trapped in one of those tiny, smelly stalls again. I made my way down the stairs and out into the yard, hoping I'd been fast enough for her not to have seen where I'd gone. The air was cold and fresh and a deep breath was all it took for me to calm down. I felt a bit safer underneath the trees.
"Don't you want to do anything about this?" the Erlking asked me. I jumped at the sound of his voice. "They've been getting pretty aggressive."
"They'd never go through with any of it," I replied. "They just want to scare me. They like seeing a crybaby lose her ****, is all."
"Language," he reminded me sternly. "And I wouldn't be so sure. You used to say the same thing about me after all."
"I doubt they'll go to the lengths you did to prove me wrong."
That shut him up for a few minutes. I leaned against one of the smaller trees and waited, hoping I'd hear the bell ring all the way over there. I curled up and began to cry a little. That didn't really mean all that much as I used to cry quite a lot during that time. This may sound odd, but it basically came on demand back in the day, I didn't even have to be particularly sad. There's many reasons to cry, and sometimes when you're feeling lonely and start thinking about your life for longer than you should, it simply happens; just like that.
Normally, the Erlking would say something to me if he saw me. What it would be depended on the situation entirely. I can name more than one occasion where he was the one responsible for it. Those times he would either mock me or tell me to get it together and stop. He rarely apologized. Other times, when it was because of someone or something else, he would actually make an effort to comfort me. He would speak softly to me, in that warm and gentle tone he had used so often back when I was younger.
That day, my crying was interrupted too, but not by him. It was Becky. I didn't even recognize her voice at first, but when I raised my head, I saw her and her two friends approach me. I didn't bother getting up. She came to a halt in front of me.
"Hey there," she said. She didn't sound angry or anything. The way she spoke to me is hard to describe. Do you know all those coming of age movies with bullies and how they talk in there? It wasn't like that. In fact, I don't think anyone ever talks like that. What I'm saying is Becky sounded casual, almost empty or a little bored even. "Why are you crying?"
I didn't respond. I was hugging my knees and kept my face down so they couldn't see me. She didn't say much else after that. I kept ignoring her until she suddenly kicked me in the side. I didn't budge. It hadn't hurt as much as it had surprised me, but I didn't want to let on either. This she took as an invitation apparently. She gave me another kick, harder this time. I winced. "Stop it," I muttered.
She didn't respond. Instead, she kicked me once more, forceful this time. I wanted to get up, but the boy who was with her was faster. He grabbed me by the hair and pulled on it so hard I let out a whimper. It was like they were testing the waters with what they could do or not, and since I hadn't made any moves to defend myself, they went further and further. At least I was standing upright by then. I tried to back off but the other girl punched me in the stomach. I hadn't expected her to be as strong as she was. Her fist sent me staggering against Becky and she shoved me back against the tree trunk. The back of my head painfully bounced off of it and I saw stars for a second or two.
Suddenly, I heard the Alder King's voice again. He sounded frantic and concerned. "I won't let them hurt you! Throw the jar away and I can help!"
My mind was racing. What jar?, I remember thinking, but I remembered soon enough. I should have thought more on it, but I was panicking, so I did as he told me?I reached into my pocket, grabbed the jar and tossed it as far away from me as possible. The three others stopped for a short moment and stared after it before exchanging confused glances.
"What was that?" Becky asked, looking slightly amused and sounding weirdly nonchalant, as though she hadn't laid a hand on me just now. I didn't stop to answer. Instead, I tried to break through their midst, only for the boy to grab me by the arms and hold me in place. He was taller than me and far stronger, my struggling didn't get me anywhere. He looked over at Becky, apparently waiting for further instructions.
"Take her shirt off," she said. Turning to me, she added something about wanting to have me walk back inside half-naked. The thought itself was humiliating.
I began to scream and the girl moved in to punch me again, only to stop mid-motion. I fell quiet immediately. I watched as the girl's eyes rolled back into her head. Blood started to run out from both of her nostrils, and she threw her head back and started to gag. She stumbled a few steps backwards before falling down. The boy's grip on my wrists had loosened and I took this chance to get some distance between us, but I didn't run away. Instead, I looked around, half expecting to spot the man with the dark hair somewhere nearby.
I didn't find him anywhere. Instead, I saw Becky reach up to touch her nose. There was blood gushing out of it by then too. Same for the boy. Becky stared at me with wide eyes, her mouth open. It didn't take too long for them to drop after that. I was left standing in their midst, trembling like a leaf with my chest heaving, the sobs shaking my whole body.
"Are they dead?" I whispered.
"Not if you call for help for them now." The King's voice was calm and silky with not a trace of his former agitation. "Would you like to?"
"Yes," I breathed, wiping the snot from my nose and making my way over to the main building on wobbly legs, hoping to find a teacher nearby.
The three were taken away in an ambulance. I claimed I had merely found them lying there. Nobody had any reason not to believe me and it was later said that they had fallen ill or something. I never found out what exactly the Erlking had done to them, but they stayed away from school for like three months in total. When they returned, they didn't so much as look into my direction again. I must confess, I was actually a little grateful for what he had done to them, even though I couldn't imagine what moved him to want to help me at the time. More importantly though, I had found out something important about him.
I spent the next few days rummaging around in the bushes in search of the discarded witch jar. When I finally pulled it out of the thorns one day, he gave a few unenthusiastic words of praise.
"You couldn't just make a new one, could you?"
I shrugged. I hadn't thought of it, to be honest. "So the jar's not that useless, right?"
He sighed. "I didn't lie to you when I told you it wouldn't get you anywhere. Emphasis on you."
"But I'm the one carrying it," I argued.
"I can't believe I'm actually explaining this to you?well, why not. I've followed you for six years now. You and only you. I'm not human and I keep to my part of the world, which is where you'll end up too when I want you to. Your bloodline is my link to your side. The jar blocks me from getting out. So yeah, to you and your folks it's not particularly useful, but do keep it on you if it makes you feel better."
"I don't believe you," I told him truthfully. "You're just spouting crap again."
I suppressed a scream when I felt myself being swept off my feet. The air was knocked out of me as I hit the ground and I groaned, wincing as I pushed myself up again. The jar was still in my pocket.
"Point made?" he asked.
"Point made."
Just a short moment later though, another thought crossed my mind. "If I'm who you're attached to here, then why can't you follow me into my house?"
Silence.
"Why can't you follow me home?" I repeated.
"Get back to class," he told me. He sounded annoyed, and his voice had taken on that firm, commanding tone again. Not wanting to anger him, I gave up and returned inside.
All that didn't stop me from carrying the flask around with me though, even though he would poke fun at me for it on a near daily basis. He loved to remind me of how useless it was since I didn't have a single friend I would need to protect against him, but I still kept it on me. Maybe just because I didn't want to admit he had a point.
x
Part 3
Part 2
Part 1


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