The elves in the orchard
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With my heart pounding in my throat, I walked into the damp orchard under the light of the full moon.
The trees cast spectral shadows that seemed to move out of the corner of my eye. I clutched the flashlight tightly, held my breath and sharpened my hearing.
At first, only nighttime silence reigned, broken by the occasional howl of a coyote in the distance. But as I made my way through the fruit trees, I thought I heard ethereal murmurs, like children's voices carried on the breeze.
I stopped dead in my tracks when I spotted a small silhouette running through the bushes. The flashlight trembled in my hand as I focused it in that direction.
For an instant, a hooded figurine materialized before me, its face hidden in the shadows.
Then, a high-pitched, childish laugh burst in my ears, as if coming from everywhere at once. Terrified, I dropped the flashlight and ran without looking back, vowing never to set foot in that accursed orchard again.
The spectral laughter chased me until I reached the safety of the house.
Since then, I have learned never to tempt the restless spirits of the past.
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