Night People

Sara's bedroom was on the second story of the house. Tonight it was her father who took her to bed, and she scrambled up the stairs in front of him, wearing a SpongeBob nightshirt and a pair of white fuzzy slippers.

Once inside her door, she climbed into her bed and sat on top of the quilt with her legs folded under her. Her father dimmed the lamp on top of the bookshelf, then knelt to look through the books.

"Your mother finished Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, didn't she?" he asked. "So what'll it be this time? Shall we start Frederick's Fables?" He turned his head to smile at Sara, but she could tell that he was tired already.

Still Sara frowned. "You're not going to tell me one of yours?"

"I'm sorry... I did an awful lot of work around the house today. Papa needs to go to bed early tonight." Sara's father stood up, moved to the bed and sat down on it, leaving a noticeable depression in the small mattress with his weight. He scooted closer to put his arm around Sara's shoulders and asked, "Can you tell me a story instead?"

"Well..." Sara put her fist under her chin in thought. "I don't think I'm very good at it yet. But there is something." Suddenly she was sitting with her back straight, rocking back and forth eagerly. Her face was very serious and her eyes glimmered. "There's this place..."

Sara's father smiled and nodded attentively.

"... And you can only get there at night. The grass is dark, and it feels like damp velvet when you walk on it. There are flowers that grow in bunches and glow yellow, and little lizards with fins who come out to play in puddles after the rain. And there are things like shadows everywhere, but they're solid, and they move all on their own, gliding through the air. They change shape as they move, and they can become just about any animal you could think of. Sometimes there are big flocks of them all together."

Sara stopped rocking and gave her father a solemn nod. "The people who live there are called the Night People. They sleep during the day and wake up after the sun sets. They can see like cats, but they have different eyes, big dark ones, and pointed teeth. And they have colored patterns on their skin, like tattoos, which they put there to keep bad spirits away. They live in houses like ours, but they have things like lawnmowers made of something silvery that make no noise when they move.

"And one night a girl found her way in through her window, and she met a Night Person who was also a girl her age. And the Night Person was scared because she thought the girl was a bad spirit, and the girl was scared because she thought the Night Person would eat her, but when they found out that they were both scared they just started to laugh. And then..."

Sara had begun to speak faster, and her father became slightly alarmed. He patted her shoulder and said, "Maybe we should stop, just for tonight? We both need to settle down and get some sleep. You can tell me the rest later. Is that all right?"

Sara thought. She didn't know how much of her story had gotten through to her father, and a little part of her was wondering how much she should have told him. She had always liked knowing things, and she loved to share them just as much. But she had to keep some secrets. "Did you like the story?" she asked carefully.

Her father got to his feet and leaned forward to hug her. "Yes, I did. Very much."

Sara could be satisfied with that. She moved back and tunneled under the covers, lying back to watch as her father switched off the lamp, paused in the brightness spilling from the doorway to blow her a kiss, then closed the door behind him, leaving Sara in the dark with the sound of her father's footsteps fading away into the hall.

She was alone now. She sat up swiftly and looked out her window. Minutes stretched into years as she watched the sky outside over the rooftops on the other side of the street. The deep orange of sunset faded to purple, then to blue. Little white pinpricks of stars appeared.

And then the change happened. Sara wouldn't know how to describe it very well; it felt a bit like being on a merry-go-round, a feeling that made your head spin and your stomach turn over. The silhouettes of the houses and trees shifted, blurring for a moment before becoming solid again in new shapes.

As soon as the change had stopped, Sara leaped out of bed, then ran to the window and lifted it. Outside the air was cool and moist. Sara put her head through the window and breathed deeply. There it was - the strange, sharp scent of the patches of flowers that shone with a warm yellow light on the lawn below. Little clouds of insects buzzed around them, catching the light of the flowers in their wings and turning it into a glittering haze.

Sara ducked back inside and went to the bookshelf to fetch something from it, then slipped out the window completely and landed on the roof of the garage. She was glad that she had remembered to wear her slippers to bed; they had firm rubber soles, and gave her an excellent foothold as she crept across the garage and down the flower trellis that hung off the back of the house she had come out on.

The sidewalk was empty as Sara walked down it with her book held to her chest. A cloud of the shadow things were floating past, and Sara was surprised when one of the shadows swooped low and hovered over her. She imagined it must be curious, and put out one arm. It reached out, like a tendril of smoke, wrapped around her wrist, snaked down and tickled her skin briefly before rising to join the rest again.

At last Sara reached the house she was looking for, a one-story. She walked around to a window on the side and rapped on it. A sleepy-looking head loomed into view, then smiled, flashing pointed white teeth from an equally white face.

The window lifted and the girl inside put her arm out to pull Sara into her room. The markings on her skin were pink, orange and deep green, and in little curlicues. "Mum and Dad won't be up for at least an hour," she whispered. "Can you tell me more of the one about the mermaid?"

Sara smiled. Of the ones her father told, that was one of her favorites. "I've got another idea tonight." She held up the book - Frederick's Fables. "What if I read you this?"