Eastercon Flash Fiction

The Hidden Children

I don't like my room. Mum and Dad say it's as good as my old one and even better. But I hate it.

At night I can hear them whispering to each other. I can't make out the words. It's not English that's the problem. It's nonsense talk. Baby talk.

I was dropping off to sleep last night when one of them whispered in my ear. "I don't like you. We don't like you." Breath tickled my ear, but there was no one there. I couldn't tell whether it was a girl or a boy's voice. It was just a whispery noise. Almost like the wind.

"Are you ghosts?" I whispered back. I felt like I might wet myself.

There was a scatter of laughter that seemed to whip around the room like a whirlwind. "No," the whisper said. "Guess again."

I didn't know what to guess.

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I had an imaginary friend when I was little. Slappy Duck had 100 legs and was always a baby and only ate chocolate. She disappeared when I was six. I don't know where she went. I guess I didn't need her anymore. I never thought about where she went.

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"Are you fairies?" "Guess again." The titter of those voices was terrible. I didn't want to say it. "How many legs do you have?" I said. "You've got it," the voice said. "We've missed you." I opened my mouth to scream, but no sound came.