New Tales - Little Ellise

“Every body loves her, you know?” The old woman sat on the stoop of a townhouse. She wore a thick dress and a long shawl, with scarves of blue and green on her head. Her crooked nose had one large wart. “Your mother is very busy. That is why she is late to come home every day.”

The girl at her side nodded. “Yes, Nanna.” She was a charming little maiden in black cargo jeans and a hoodie, with skin like gossamer silk, eyes like dewdrops, hair the color of walnut shell, so delicate and lovely. Her nose was in a book, reading by the fading sunlight. “I know.”

The old woman sighed. “She is so kind, so sweet-tempered. That is why she works day and night. She cannot say no to anyone.”

“Yes, Nanna.” A car drove past and the girl looked up, then back down to her book. “I know.”

Her Nanna's eyes narrowed, and the old woman smirked. “Did you know that you were born of a barley-corn, in a flower pot? She kissed the closed bud and it opened as a tulip, with you in its center. It's true, I helped your mother bring you into this world.”

“Yes, Nanna.” The girl did not look up from her book as a trolley went past, its bell jingling. “I know.”

“Ellise.” The girl looked up at the old woman, who smiled back. “I understand if you do not listen to me. But I ask one thing.” The old woman pressed a finger to the girl's nose. “You must treasure your name always. Don't end up like your mother. She was so kind, so sweet-tempered, that she married the first young man to propose. And now that her ex-husband no longer loves her, she must work day and night to feed and clothe you.”

“Yes, Nanna.” The girl nodded. “I know.”

The old woman raised an eyebrow. “Oh, you know do you? Well in that case, spare your eyes a little from that book. Sing for me, please.” The girl nodded and did as she was bade.

Ellise could sing with so sweet a voice that the like nobody ever had heard. Whenever she sang, the sun seemed brighter, the air cleaner. Birds came down to listen at the eaves, children stopped playing in the street, and grown men cried as they walked past.

That night, while the family slept, a woman with scarlet hair and wearing a mold yellow robe walked past the townhouse. She walked by again a minute later. On her third pass she crept to the door, jiggled the handle, and pulled a crowbar from her sparkling red purse.

When the door was open, the woman gestured behind her. A boy slouched closer, wearing a sickly green polo blazer and spotted yellow pants. His face was misshapen and deformed, his hair was falling out, and he couldn't stand in one place without leaning against something.

They entered the home. The woman grabbed everything of value as they stole through the house. The boy opened a silk sack wide for the items, which he carried over his shoulder. They came shortly to the room of Ellise, who slept in a white dress fit for a wedding.

The woman looked down on the sleeping girl. “Oh my dear. She is lovely.”

“Uh. Uhhhhh huh. Uh-huh,” was all the boy could say.

“Don't speak so loud!” The woman tapped her double chin several times, and then nodded. “Take her out on the river and put her on the Yacht and thence she cannot escape. We will get all your friends together for a party!”

When Ellise awoke the next morning, she was tied up and in a weather-worn, slimy green dingy with the words The Yacht painted on the side. A rope tied the vessel to an old piling in the middle of the river. She didn't cry when she looked about her and saw where she was, surrounded by water and no possible way by which she could get to land.

Two figures approached her, coming out of the morning mist. The woman in the yellow robe with her arms crossed and a gap-toothed grin, and the boy using a long pole to push a small raft of wooden planks roped together.

The woman in the yellow robe bowed most politely, at the same time that she pointed to the boy. “Here you behold my son; he is to be your husband, and you will take his name, and you both can live together delightfully!”

“Uh huh. Uh huh. Hi,” was all the bridegroom could find to say.

“Say something intelligent!” The woman sighed and looked back to Ellise. “We are of noble heritage, and you will not find a higher name. Now please wait patiently, as we are busy preparing the wedding hall and a grand feast.” She smacked the boy at her side. “Back to the dock!” And back they went, leaving the girl all alone.

She sighed and pulled her hands out from behind her. “Can't even tie a good knot.” Ellise rubbed her wrists, looked around, and sighed. “Wish I had a good book to read.”

Some time later, young children, swimming about like fishies, swam closer to the boat. They were laughing and playing, splashing each other with water, but when they pulled themselves against the side of the boat they stared in and were silent. There lounged Ellise, hands behind her head, singing.

Finally she stopped and stared at them. They stared back.

“What are you doing way out here?” asked one of the swimmers.

“Not much,” replied Ellise. “Singing to pass the time.”

“Don't you have any oars?” asked the children, their eyes searching the boat.

Ellise shook her head. “Forgot them. Could you go find me some?”

The swimmers all blinked at her. “That would be stealing,” one of them said eventually. “Why don't you swim for shore?”

“And get my nightgown all wet?” Ellise shrugged. “I'll stay in this boat.”

The children all looked at each other. They grinned and let go of the boat as one to slip back below the water. When they came back up, they were pulling at the rope where it attached to the piling.

They pulled loose the rope and waved. “Bon voyage! Good journey! Send us a postcard!” The Yacht and Ellise, slowly and gently, floated down the river.

Ellise drifted past towns and villages, singing all the while. Triple-wing airplanes flew past, buzzing low over the river. The air smelled of spring, and new flowers grew along the river bank.

An old salty dog of the sea was piloting his way upstream in a tugboat. Two other men were with him, a middle-aged man with bags under his eyes, and a young man with fair hair. They passed close to Ellise. The old man slowed his tug to drift backward alongside her.

The old man laughed and beamed back at his younger companions. “Oh, what a charming little maid! See how freely she sails! Now that's the way to do it!”

“Uh. Uhhhhh huh. Uh-huh,” was all the other two could say. The middle-aged man nodded. The young man's face was a bright red. The old man sighed and sped the boat up again.

Ellise continued staring up at the sky. The day was warm and bright, a lazy spring day. Some time later she stopped singing and sat up in her boat to stretch and look around.

The river had gotten narrower, with cobblestone streets on both sides, and the occasional arching bridge. Ellise passed below one, but the bottom was too high for her hands to reach. On the other side though, thick blue ropes were strung across this section of the river. Men and women wearing leotards in every color of the rainbow walked upon them, some with thin balancing poles, all with some kind of facial hair.

A man all in black, with a bushy black mustache and a soft round hat upon his head, flipped down to hang upside-down from his rope. He laid hold of Ellise's thin waist with his long arms and pulled her up and away. The Yacht floated on. Ellise wasn't frightened of the man, but she stared after the little Yacht that had borne her and would now float on without her.

With his ankles wrapped around the rope, the man carried Ellise above the water to the shore. He set her down, pulled himself back up on the rope, and helped Ellise onto the cobblestone street. Nearby was a large wagon, with the cramped lettering for 'The Psychic Circus of Mustachioed Acrobatics and Exquisite Delights' on the side.

Ellise stared at the wagon, and then at the man. “You're a circus?”

The man nodded, sniffed, and pulled out a thin cigarette. Then he smiled at the girl and pointed to the wagon. “May I offer you some food? We have honey, plenty of honey, far too much honey.”

Ellise nodded. The man took her to the side of the wagon. There he reached inside a compartment on the side and pulled out a jar of the purest golden honey. There were several hundred more jars inside the compartment. Ellise accepted the jar and opened it. As she licked a dab from her finger, the man took a drag on his cigarette and stared at Ellise.

“You are quite charming, although not at all like us. Perhaps that is why I find you so charming?”

The other circus members arrived then. The menfolk stared at Ellise, their beards grinning at her. “Join us! Join our circus and run away from your dull life!”

The womenfolk crossed their arms, their beards twitching with frowns. “She has skinny arms, with no muscle,” said they. “And where is her mustache? Her face looks very wretched without one. I bet she has no psychic powers either. Moreover, can she perform even one exquisite delight?”

The man in black shushed them all. He turned back to Ellise with a wave of his hand. “You have run away from your home, we can all tell this. And you wish not to go back? Agh, to spare your poor mother, I see. You should live with the circus. We will give you a new stage name and you will be paid well as a performer of exquisite delights.”

Ellise blinked at the man. She laughed, gave him a small curtsy, and walked away into the city without a backward glance.

All that long summer Ellise lived quite alone in the large city. To protect herself from the rain she slept in a green box which said Lettuce on the side. For food she gathered the sweet breads and muffins left on tables at outdoor cafes, dipping them in the never-ending jar of honey. She drank the fresh water that stood glittering on the same tables. But in the autumn people stopped eating at outdoor cafes.

As winter crept closer, so did the cold. Frequent snows dumped upon the streets and buildings, leaving the city a white slushy mess. Ellise left her Lettuce box every day wearing the rags of her nightgown and hugging a tattered blanket around herself. One day she knocked at a door, and when a middle-aged woman emerged to blink at her, Ellise prayed for a morsel to eat.

“Poor little thing!” said the mousy woman. “Come into my warm room and eat some of my corn.”

This mousy woman lived in a little apartment, warm and comfortable among the city slums. She had one whole room stored full of canned corn, and besides it a nice little kitchen and larder. The two talked for a full hour, Ellise eating a can of corn by hand, the woman rocking in her chair.

The woman sighed. “Perhaps you would like to pass the winter in my house; but then you must keep my rooms clean and sing to amuse me, for that is what I like more than any thing.” Ellise nodded and did as she was bade.

One day the mousy woman turned to Ellise. “My apartment manager usually pays me a visit, at most once a-week. He lives in a house on the other side of the city with many fine rooms, and he wears costly furs.” The woman grinned and nodded at Ellise. “If you could get him as your caretaker and take his last name, you would be well provided for. But you must not fail to sing him the prettiest and most touching songs.”

And when the apartment manager arrived that day, he stared at Ellise. “Uh. Uhhhhh huh. Uh-huh.” He shook his head and threw up his arms. “Well, there is nothing I can do about tenants having a guest.”

The apartment manager stayed several hours that day. And exactly one week later he was back, wearing mole-skin furs and a diamond necklace, to sit and chat for a few hours. He detested the sun and the flowers, and spoke of both with contempt. But he spoke very intelligently, with many large words. He had a name for every failed social program.

The mousy woman smiled and preened, listening to his every word. She made sure Ellise stayed in the room too. And when she told Ellise to sing various songs, the girl did as she was bade. The apartment manager and the mousy woman listened in rapt attention, and neighbors stood outside the door to listen as well.

One day the apartment manager took the two on a walk through an unused subway tunnel. He begged them not to be frightened by the dead man at the entrance. And when they arrived, there indeed was a man slumped against the wall, with a sign that read Will Sing For My Supper. He was covered in the rags of a navy-blue uniform and had a blanket wrapped around himself.

The apartment manager grunted and shook his walking cane at the body. “There is an end of all his fine singing now! Such a poor thing has nothing in the world except his singing and when winter comes he must starve.”

Later that night Ellise crept from the mousy woman's home and found her old Lettuce box. She carried it to the man in the subway tunnel, propped it up around him, and covered him with a blanket from the mousy woman's parlor.

The man moved. He was not dead, but only lay benumbed by winter. He stared up at Ellise.

She stared back at him, and finally she spoke. “Hello.”

He nodded. His throat let out a dry whisper. “Hello to you, my kind angel.”

Ellise blinked. “What are you doing here?”

The man was so weak he could only open his eyes a few times to look at Ellise. His voice was slow. “My fellow airmen flew south for a long campaign, but I was not content with the war. So I was put on leave, and had been living here in this torpid state when the snows came and grounded me.”

Ellise nodded. “May I help you in some way?”

The man smiled through cracked lips. “Some soup broth would be wonderful.”

When she brought the soup, he took it with both hands. “A thousand thanks, you pretty girl,” said the sick airman. “I shall soon recover my strength with your care. So please smile. Please?”

Ellise nursed the airman, who was revived enough by her care to sit up and converse with her. He had flown to many places and seen many things. They talked for hours each she visited. He was as eager to hear the things Ellise had learned from books as she was to hear the many things he knew from his travels. But Ellise always went back to the mousy woman's home without saying where she had been.

When the summer came, the airman was given his pilots license back. The war was over, and had gone so poorly that his commanders were happy enough to have one good airman alive. He offered to take Ellise to live with him on the base.

She bit her lip and looked away. “No. Thank you for offering, but … no.”

“Farewell, then, good Ellise,” said the airman. “Smile for me? Please? Goodbye! Goodbye! Goodbye!”

The apartment manager had offered to take Ellise in, and the mousy woman had offered Ellise all the wool and linen she could want to make new clothes to wear. Ellise spent that summer weaving day and night.

Every evening the apartment manager came to visit, and always spoke of his wish that the summer would soon be over, that there might be an end of the heat. And when winter should come again, that would be when Ellise would go to live with him.

Ellise complained to the mousy woman, saying she would not have the tiresome apartment manager for a caretaker, or take his last name.

“Fiddle de dee!” answered the mousy woman. “Don't be refractory, or I shall hit you with my sharp hand. I am sorry to say that you eat more than I expected, and I cannot keep you. His larder and cellar are full, and you may thank your stars that you can be so well provided for.”

Ellise sat on the apartment steps in her handmade coat and leggings. She stared at the sunset, and under her breath sang a slow song.

“Hello! Hello! Hello!” said the airman, walking past. “See, you are still smiling!”

Indeed, her smile was brighter than the sun. She ran and hugged the airman. “Why are you here?”

“I have quit the Air Force,” said the airman. “And with my severance, I have bought my plane from them. Winter will soon be here and I shall fly far away to the warm countries. If you will travel with me, I will willingly take you. We will fly over mountain and valley and sea, to those beautiful lands where the sun shines more warmly than here; where ceaseless summer reigns, and bright flowers are always blooming.”

Ellise packed a bag and was gone after one word of thanks to the mousy woman. They boarded the airman's plane and flew away to the south. They flew over mountains and Ellise grew cold, but she only had to huddle down in her seat behind the airman. They flew over farms and Ellise stared out over those patterns of lush green. They flew over the sea and Ellise gazed out over an endless blue.

They flew over islands, and stopped at the first one with an airfield. The airman went to fill the tank of his plane, for they had much farther to go. Ellise decided to stretch her legs.

In a patch of blue and green flowers a young man was sitting, wearing a crown of purple daisies. His hair was golden, his skin was tan, and his arms were strong. Ellise tiptoed closer. The young man looked up and his pale blue eyes opened wide. “Uh. Uhhhhh huh. Uh-huh.” He stood, took off his crown, and set it on Ellise's head. “Queen of the Flower Fairies, what is your name?”

Ellise's face turned red. “Uh. Uhhhhh huh. Uh-huh.” She looked down at the flowers. “Ellise.”

“You shall not be called Ellise any longer,” said the young man. “For that is not a pretty name, and you are so very beautiful. Henceforth the world shall call you.”

Ellise interrupted him, “No, thank you. I treasure my name.”

The airman walked up behind her, and Ellise took his hand. “Farewell! Farewell! Farewell!” cried out the airman and Ellise to the young man as they walked away into the sunshine.