3. Hollow
Early in the morning, someone knocked at Eric’s door.
“Yes?” he called without opening his eyes.
“It's Albert.”
“Yes, Uncle Albert, has anything happened?”
“I thought maybe you would help me?”
With a sigh, Eric opened his eyes. The room was dark. He held out his hand to the bedside table where he had left his watch, grabbed it, and brought it to his face. Sleepy eyes barely caught the hour, 6:30 A.M.
“This is insane,” he muttered.
“So, can I count on your help?” Albert asked from behind the door.
Eric sighed. “Yes, sure, Uncle Albert, I’ll come down in a minute.”
He forced himself to fall out of bed. 6:30 A.M. What kind of people are they? Do they not sleep? To make himself wake up fully, Eric opened the curtains, allowing the sunrays to creep into the room. He rubbed his eyes and looked out of the window. The sun’s shining face was rising above the horizon, spreading its long rays all over the serene sky and spacious land. The verdant hills and calm fields were abundant with the greenest trees and blooming flowers of the fall, and the ribbon of the bluish river was making its way through the meadows with myriads of flowers. Not far from the house where Eric was staying, there was a dense forest so green that it seemed to be painted. Such greenery in autumn? Eric thought, looking at the endless trees that were stretching to the precipices and mountains wrapped in cotton-white clouds.
Eric looked at the colorful houses on the other bank of the river. From afar, they looked like toys, and he felt an instant desire to find out who lived there. Their inhabitants couldn’t be humans. No, these houses were not designed for ordinary people. Fabulous creatures had to live there; they were the ones who had colored houses, decorated with foliage and flowers, whose roofs were covered with straw, and a bundle of thin, almost transparent smoke came out of their chimneys. A city boy who lived in an apartment building, couldn’t imagine what it was like waking up every day with the first rays of the sun, breathing fresh air and watching how the birds flitted over the gorges, and the cattle grazed on the green hills.
Eric opened the window and let the wind touch his face, greedily inhaling the fresh air. “I’ve come to Rivendell,” he admitted with a smile, and hurried to the bathroom. Ten minutes later Eric went downstairs, where Riona and Eleanora were laying the table.
“Good morning,” Riona said. “Did you sleep well?”
“Good morning.” Eleanora put a bowl of fruits on the table.
“Hi everybody. Do you always get up so early?”
“It’s a sin to sleep long in Hollow. Sit down, dear, have breakfast. I’m afraid Albert will give you a hard time today.”
Eric sat next to Henry, who was eating pancakes with jam. He breakfasted in silence, thinking about home and Hollow, drawing parallels between the lives here and there. He was sent to Hollow as a punishment, but with every second spent there, he liked the town more and more.
After breakfast, Albert showed Eric the barn and the apple orchard.
“It’s necessary to chop some wood, pull out the weeds, pick the apples, and paint the fence. Which of these can you do?”
Eric pondered them over. He didn’t want to say nothing, but he’d never chopped wood, painted a fence, or collected apples. Pulling the weeds seemed the easiest, but he had no wish to do that.
“I’ll chop wood.”
Albert looked at him with suspicion, then shook his head. “No, you better not, you may chop off your fingers.” He looked around, wondering what chore he could give to the urban boy. In the end, Albert decided that the safest for Eric was to pick the apples from the trees. Giving him a tremendous basket, he went into the barn to fix the wheel of the cart.
Eric would gladly do nothing. He wanted to just walk around the town. The only hope was to wait until afternoon when beautiful Dinah would appear. Maybe she’d take him on a short tour.
The orchard was full of ripe apples. For the fourth time, Eric unloaded the basket in the barn. He thought there was nothing complicated about picking apples, but after a couple of hours, his body was tired and sore, arms and legs ached. Eric sat on the ground under the shade of the branches, rubbed a red apple on his jeans and took a bite. The place was quiet. Only occasionally was the silence interrupted by the rustling of the leaves when the wind tickled them, or by the calls of the blackbirds hopping on the ground, looking for food.
A noise came from near the fence as the branches moved. Albert was still in the barn, Riona was in the house, and their children were at school: someone else was making the noise. Eric walked to the fence. Now that he was closer, he heard a clatter of metal in Dinah’s garden. Hoping to catch a glimpse of her, Eric peered over the fence. It was not Dinah. A tall man with clippers was turning a large shrub into a gnome.
“Good afternoon,” said Eric. After spending several hours in silence, he needed some human communication.
The gardener turned to the fence. “Good afternoon.”
“Is that a gnome?” Eric pointed to the incomplete figure.
“Yes, it soon will be a gnome.”
“Do you live here?” Eric asked, hoping to question the gardener about Dinah.
“You mean Hollow, or this house?”
“The house.”
“I don’t live in this house; my place is on the other side of the river. I work here, take care of the bushes and make figures.” The gardener wiped the sweat from his forehead with his sleeve. “You can see my figures in many other gardens.”
“I see.” Eric reached out his hand. “I'm Eric. I’m staying with the O’Brians.”
The gardener shook his hand. “Mr. Frederick O'Leary. How long are you staying in Hollow?”
“Till the end of the winter.”
“Yeees,” Mr. O'Leary said. “The winter is beautiful in Hollow. So is the autumn. And all other days are also beautiful here.”
“If you’re a gardener, tell me, how can there be such greenery in autumn?”
“It is always like this in Hollow. The leaves will turn yellow all at once. Just as suddenly it will start snowing, and just in one day the snow will melt away. Don’t be surprised. Hollow can be unexplainable and illogical. Have you gone to the forest?”
Eric shook his head.
“Compared to the forest, the greenery in autumn will seem less strange to you.”
“Do you know if Dinah is at home?”
“Dinah is at school, and Dickens is working at the Boat Builders.”
“How long have you known them?”
“Since they were born. I came to Hollow when I was quite young. My grandfather had left me a house here, but because of bureaucracy and bad people, I didn’t get it. I rented a small room on the West Bank and have been living in Hollow for over thirty years. Dinah and Dickens were born here, so they grew up before my eyes, as well as Eleanora and many young people whom, I believe, you already know or will meet anon.”
Eric wanted to talk about Dinah, but didn’t dare ask questions about her to someone whom he had met for the first time. Fortunately, the gardener himself spoke about the young residents of the house.
“So, when did you say you arrived in Hollow?” he asked.
“Just yesterday evening.”
“I believe you have already talked to Dickens, haven't you?”
“I saw him, but spoke only with Dinah.”
“Take my advice, young man, avoid him. Dickens is not the most affable guy, not everyone gets along with him. I am just giving you advice. You’re a newcomer. You better stay away from him.”
Eric shrugged. “I don’t need new problems, the old ones are enough.”
The gardener looked up. “It is almost afternoon. I must go. I promised the McKennits I'd cut the bushes in their garden.”
Eric dared not detain Mr. O'Leary any longer and returned to the apples. Soon the long-awaited hour came, and Dinah appeared in front of the O’Brians’ house, looking even more beautiful than ye
sterday. Not wasting a second, Eric hurried to her.
She greeted him with a radiant smile.
“So glad to see you,” he said. “I’m begging you, let’s go away from here. I can no longer look at apples.”
During their long walk Dinah told Eric about Hollow and its beauties. Passing along the river, they reached an arched bridge with sculptures of castles, strongholds, and animals. The patterns were cut so masterfully that, despite the antiquity of the bridge, they were still discernible. In some places, the stone was smashed and shattered, and parts were missing, like the heads of deer, the roof of the castle, and the towers of the stronghold. Even a less skilled eye could see that this wasn’t the result of the ravages of time, but had been caused by human interference.
Eric wanted to walk across the bridge, but Dinah stopped him. She advised him not to cross the bridge today, but to leave it until tomorrow or sometime during the week. She led him to the center of the town, which was the busiest part of Hollow with its long rows of stores and noisy thoroughfares. There were houses, shops, and workshops on both sides of the streets, with a tall and tattered belfry among them. In the center of the square stood a large bronze fountain, with man-sized figurines. On the right was a smithy, where the sounds of the sledgehammer’s mighty blows were coming out. A short distance from the smithy was the glassblower’s shop. Dinah told Eric that it belonged to her father, who was a skilled craftsman, and who had fifteen workers and dozens of students. For some time she talked only about her father, whose fame had gone beyond the town, and many people came to Hollow only for the sake of buying his glass figurines. The inscription ‘McCormack’s Glass’ was nailed over the door of the shop; colored glass bells were hanging from the second-floor balconies, chiming with the wind’s slightest touch.
The town’s center was crowded. Until then, Eric hadn’t thought that so many people lived in Hollow. The residents of the town were crossing the square, with everyone minding their business, carrying a cart full of wheat, or walking down the street, holding a horse by the bridle. An old woman crossed a railroad, maintaining calmness even when she was nearly hit by a small, colored tram. A little girl ran after a pack of puppies, passing right in front of Eric and almost getting under his feet; a man in a black suit and a top hat came out of a building, with books in his hands and, stumbling against the baker, nearly dropped them to the ground. Eric and Dinah passed near the market, where it was the noisiest and most crowded. People bartered, dropped the prices, and sometimes quarreled.
Walking down the cobbled lane, Eric and Dinah reached a small store. “Pickering & Son. The Old Curiosity Shop,” was written on the sign above the door.
“What’s behind this door?” Eric asked.
“This is a store that sells antiques.”
“Let's go inside.”
“Better not, there is just a bunch of boring junk.”
Dinah took his hand and dragged him away from the shop. She had noticed two of the witches of Hollow coming towards them. Holding baskets covered with checkered handkerchiefs, they were walking to the Old Curiosity Shop, and had almost reached the door when Dickens McCormack blocked their way. Medea stopped so abruptly that Electra bumped into her sister.
“Why have you come here?” Dickens muttered.
“None of your business,” Medea retorted. “Let us pass.”
“Pass where, witch? Your den is on the other bank.”
Medea was ready to tear him to pieces, but Electra stopped her. “Let’s go away from here,” she whispered in her sister's ear.
“Let us pass!” Medea demanded again.
“I told you to never come here,” Dickens said.
“Leave the girls,” said the man with the books.
Two women who were passing by, took Dickens’s side.
“He’s right,” said one of them. “They are not welcome on the East Bank.”
“You don’t belong here,” said the second. “Go away!”
“Witches!” they heard from behind.
Electra and Medea hastened away. Turning to the voices, Eric saw Dickens arguing with two girls, one of whom was dark-haired, the other red-haired. When people began calling them names, the girls turned around and disappeared behind the buildings. Eric noticed that one of them, the black-haired girl, was limping.
“Who were those girls?” he asked Dinah. She didn’t answer. Eric looked at Dickens coming towards them. “Who were those girls?” he asked.
In silence, Dickens continued walking.
“I asked you a question. Why did you send them away?”
Dickens turned to him. “None of your business, moron. No need to stick your nose everywhere.”
Dickens continued on his way, but Eric caught up with him, and grabbing his collar, pulled him back. Dickens pushed him in the chest, and Eric responded with a harder blow. Dickens almost lost his balance, then pounced on Eric. A fight would have started if the same man with the books didn’t hurry to them. A few more people ran up and split the fighters.
“Enough!” the man shouted.
Dickens threw an angry glance around and walked away. Flabbergasted, Dinah stared at Eric.
“Why did you do that?”
“Your brother is crazy. Why did he attack those girls?”
“They deserve it.”
Eric stared at her beautiful face. “What do you mean they deserve it?”
“You have recently come to Hollow, you don’t know a lot about our town.”
“I am all ears.”
“They are witches.”
Eric would have laughed if Dinah hadn’t spoken so seriously. “Witches?”
“Let's talk about them another time; we were going to the stone alley.”
“No, no, come on now. What do you mean by witches? I didn’t see a broom in their hands, or whatever it is that witches carry with them.”
“And yet they are witches.” Dinah began to walk slowly, allowing Eric to catch up with her.
“And do you have a lot of witches in the town?” Eric asked with irony while they strolled along the alley.
“I know you think I am lying or making things up, but it’s not so. Stay away from them. They live on the West Bank, near the forest. Don’t ever go there.”
“Otherwise?”
“Anything can happen.”
“Like what?”
“Listen, Eric, just trust me, don’t go there. No one knows what lives in that part of the forest. It’s not like here; there are voices, whispers.” She looked fixedly at him. “It is dangerous there.”
Eric chuckled.
“You either think I am lying or talking nonsense. I have no reason to lie to you. As for the nonsense, you’ll have to decide for yourself. I’m only asking you not to go there, at least now, while you have only seen so little and don’t know Hollow.”
Eric found nothing else to say. He liked Dinah very much, but he was beginning to doubt her common sense. Not wishing to talk about witches and other evils, he changed the subject of the conversation. Dinah began talking sensibly again and turned back into the beautiful creature that made his heart beat faster.
4. Enchanted Garden
Soon the weather changed, just as the gardener had foretold. One morning, looking out of the window, Eric doubted he was still in Hollow. Everything was different. All the greenery was repainted, the foliage had obtained a yellow-orange color, and the grass was covered with fallen leaves. The changes, however, were not only visible. Something else had changed—the mood of the town—as if Hollow had saddened and bowed her head. Even the trees were sorrowful, obeying the nature and losing their foliage. The flow of the river differed from the cheerful babble it used to be, as the fallen leaves glided freely across the water like boats without ferrymen.
One evening, Dinah showed Eric an unusual garden next to the river, assuring him he hadn’t seen a place more beautiful. Walking down the cobbled path, they reached a low metal gate with an unlocked padlock hanging on it. Dinah pushed the gate
and entered the garden with almond trees, Siberian pea shrubs, and lush lilac bushes. The ground was paved with blooming flowers. It seemed they were whispering to each other, but whenever Eric strained his ears, all the whispers instantly silenced. Walking by the bushes of lavender and buttercups, he tipped the flowers, and the petals answered his touch. As he reached out his hand to the blooms, they stretched in response. Without touching them, Eric raised his hand up, and the flowers followed him. At first he thought it was the wind playing tricks, but after doing the same thing several times, he was convinced that the petals were indeed reaching out to his fingers. Eric laughed with disbelief.
Still holding his hand, Dinah led him into the middle of the garden, to the white-stoned arbor with a bricked roof. Eric noticed how, before going in, Dinah looked around. She entered the arbor and sat on the bench. Eric sat down next to her.
“Isn’t it beautiful here?”
“It is, but why is this place so different? I mean, the O’Brians’ garden and your garden, and all the places we have visited, well, it’s autumn everywhere. And here, I don't even know what season it is.”
Dinah laughed. “Here, too, it’s autumn.”
Eric wanted to argue, when a sudden wind blew from the gate. It creaked open. A mix of pollen, dust, and petals rolled down the road and scattered in the middle, releasing a soft whisper.
Eric stood up. “Did you hear that?”
“Heard what?”
“A voice.” He stared at the gate.
“No.”
Eric was looking at the cobbled road, when whispers sounded somewhere behind his back. He turned quickly, but there was no one in the garden other than Dinah and him.
“What is it?”
“I don't know, but something...”
Eric approached the bushes. He could’ve sworn he heard laughter. It was quiet, and barely audible, but he wasn’t mistaken, it was laughter. Then whispers, and then someone softly called his name. He squatted and looked through the bushes, but there were only branches and leaves, with ladybugs gliding across them.
“Eric!” he heard Dinah’s voice. “Eric, it's time to go.”
“Wait, I think I saw something.”
“Not now, Eric. We must go!”
Eric looked up at her. “What has happened? You seem worried.”
“Yes, I remembered that I had to do a very important thing. I must go home quickly.”
“Alright, let's go.”
“Hurry up!” She seized him by the hand and ran to the gate.
Closing the gate, Eric glanced back and saw them—the girls with dark and red hair. They had reached the arbor and were now watching him and Dinah run away. Out on the road, Eric pulled Dinah's hand, forcing her to stop. “You didn’t forget anything, did you?”
Dinah didn’t answer.
“Why did you run away? Were you scared of them?”
“Eric, let's go home, I have to—”
“You saw those girls and got scared, right? Why are you afraid of them?”
“They are witches, and they are dangerous.”
“But I was with you! You shouldn’t have been so scared and run away.”
Dinah smirked. “You still don't understand, Eric. You can’t deal with them; they are dangerous.”
“I saw no danger, just three girls.”
“I am telling you they are witches. I shouldn’t have brought you here. This garden is beautiful, but it’s too close to the West Bank, and the witches call it theirs. No one from the East Bank comes here. We shouldn’t have come either.”
“So, no one from the East Bank talks to these girls?”
“East Bank has no witches. They live on the other side of the river, and we don’t like it when they cross the border. Sadly, they do it once in a while. Their uncle makes things for the Old Curiosity Shop, that’s why we don’t enter that place. It’s full of bizarre things. Once they used to go to school with us, but a few years ago they were expelled.”
“For what?”
“Because the children at school were afraid of them. They were sitting together, all three of them, and were whispering, drawing something, and then something happened to one of the pupils. They either got sick or broke their arms and legs. If someone dared tell them anything, they whispered, and the next day it happened.”
“Are you serious?”
“Absolutely. They were sent into different classes, but they continued to talk. I don’t even know how they did it. One of them stayed in my class, the dark-haired one. She always made fun of me. You wouldn’t believe the things she’d do.”
“Like what?”
“She made things move without touching them. My book would fall off my desk, and as soon as I’d bend over to pick it up, a pencil would fall. I’d grab it from the floor, and the notebook would fall. All the time. I had to attach the things to my desk with a sticky tape.”
Eric cracked up and Dinah looked at him with a scowl. “Do you find it funny?”
“Of course no, sorry.” He tried to hold back his laughter. “It’s just too unbelievable.”
“Those are their smallest pranks. In the end, they got kicked out of school.”
“What are their names?”
“I don’t even want to say their names out loud.”
“Come on, Dinah, what’s so terrible about their names?”
“Because I hate them! Oh, how much I hate them! Almost everyone on the East Bank hates them. My family, our friends, neighbors, the O'Brians, too.” She fixed her eyes on Eric. “Very few people on the East Bank stand up for them. Our music teacher, Mr. Gardiner, is one of those few. You met Mr. Gardiner the day when you had a quarrel with Dickens. He pulled you apart from each other.”
“The man in the black top hat?”
“Yes, that’s him. I know he's been to their house to teach them after they were expelled. As if it’s not enough, he even publicly stands up for them.”
“Maybe they aren’t so bad?”
“Don’t talk nonsense, they are scary! Only Dickens is not afraid of them. He wouldn’t have run away like me, he would have told them what he thought right into their faces.”
“Your brother is weird. Is he feeding his ego by attacking girls?”
“I know you still don’t believe me. Stay a bit longer in Hollow, and you’ll see that I’m not lying.”