Crispen had brought me home around sunrise, though the sun hadn't risen. The grey engulfed the sky and kept any sunlight from peeking through. The rain was relentless and fell hard on our shingled roof, making it hard for me to catch any sleep.

I remained awake, my empty notebook in my lap, the silent coin next to me. I had a feeling that something was going to happen today so I thought it would be best to wear my luckiest socks; a pair of light blue crew socks with a peach print, more suited to young children than to a girl on the cusp of womanhood.

It was too early to start my morning routine,  so I sat and wondered. And wondering was a very dangerous thing. Especially when you had a feeling you couldn't place. The coin hadn't shown me its tiny nightscape in two days and counting and my novel- I hadn't any idea when the words had been stolen. I felt a pang of guilt for not knowing the when for my beloved Stormholden. I had been a poor, unattentive author as of late.

I laid back on my bed and sighed, listening to the intense pitter patter of the rain overhead. Crispen had said this rain hadn't been the work of the Zipkinn and for that I was grateful. At the rate at which this rain fell, the poor darlings would have been running their bodies into exhaust.

My alarm clock ticked. And then it tocked. And finally it repeated, and in ten minutes, I gave in, put on a sweater, and went downstairs. It was cool and dark in the house. And the eyes were still there. They found me as soon as I stepped into the hallway.

Only this time, I didn't mind them as much. They hadn't been the creature that rode in on a storm, that had made everyone all full of gloom and glum. They hadn't perverted Genesis and stood outside my home.

There was nothing appealing in the fridge, so I went to the coffee maker to get a pot going. My mother would be up soon-- she was one of those rare morning birds who always got the worm-- but today, the coffee that dripped through the filter was for me. I wanted the bitter smell to calm me. I needed to sip on calm.

I sat at the kitchen table, where I had sat across from Crispen that morning a train had visited a backyard and sighed. There was nothing for me to do down here other then to wait and wonder. And added to that were the eyes that watched me closely; their owners waiting and wondering in the darkness. Stemming from nerves I couldn’t keep from twitching with alarm, I spoke to those eyes.

"What are you waiting for?" I yelled accidentally, my voice filling the downstairs.

I clasped a hand over my mouth and waited for shuffling upstairs. Yes, my mother was an early bird, but she was only so left to her own devices. She was a terrifying creature when she hadn't had the required amount of sleep.Nothing but silence came from upstairs.

"Thank goodness," I mumbled, smelling the hazelnut flavored coffee. It was robust and warm. I was excited to have a cup.

"The girl thinks we're waiting," a tiny voice whispered. It seemed to come from the living room.

"The girl thinks we're waiting, definitely," another voice answered, it too seemed to come from the living room.

"Wrong," a third voice chimed in, though this voice I had trouble placing.

I got up and headed to the living room where I was sure two of the three voices had come from. There, sitting on the couch were two creatures, knee high plump little things, one red and one blue, wearing necklaces of eyeballs around their necks.

They had tiny hands, human-like, but each of their palms had its own pair of eyes.

"So you're the ones who've watched me?"

They looked at me surprised, all their eyes growing in size in perfect sync. I sat in my mother's recliner across from them, my nerves lessened by having something else to occupy my mind. Even if it were petite creatures of one hundred eyes.

"The girl sees us," the red one whispered to the blue one.

In response the blue one shook its oval head, the necklaces of eyeballs shaking with it.

"The girl sees us, definitely," it sputtered back.

The creatures wore no shoes and only had on ripped pairs of tweed shorts that showcased their knobbly bowed legs. They hopped off the couch and scurried into the kitchen, clutching each others arms as they did so.

"Hey!" I said, following the pair with curiosity. The red one stood on top of the blue one reaching for the pot of freshly brewed coffee. They swayed in an invisible wind, and twice almost toppled over. Coffee splashed against the tiled floor.

I sighed, grabbing a roll of paper towels and heading over to clean up their mess. "If you wanted coffee, you could have just asked."

"The girl sees us still," the red one said, pouring coffee down it's throat. The blue one shook underneath its red counterpart, spilling more coffee upon the ground.

"The girl sees us, still, definitely," it added, waiting for the red one to pour coffee down its open mouth. The red one complied. I sighed. Magical creatures were turning out to be quite troublesome.

The red one hopped off its friend, an emptied coffee pot in its hand, and the pair hurried up the stairs. I followed hoping to free our house's only coffee pot from their clutches and brew another pot. Remember, I was still in need of my calm, and these two eye ball wearing creatures were only adding to that need.

The rescue commenced as I hurried up the stairs after them.

They were nowhere in the hallway when I approached but a thin sliver of light did cascade out of my skewed bedroom door. I never left my door open like that; it only made my mother's job easier when she decided it was time to eavesdrop. The eyes had never gone into my room before. I had thought it had been protected. I guess I was wrong.

As I reached a hand out to open my door, I saw another knee length creature sitting on a table underneath the hallway's only window. A vase holding flowers had been there during the day, but this lilac shaded creature had proceeded to knock it off, the harsh scent of roses, stabbing the air, the water soaking the crocheted rug that lay on the floor.

This eyeball creature had chains of gold, not silver, that held eyes of black, red and green. It wore more eyes, maybe 150 or so, including an extra set of them embedded in its fleshy palms. It had hair atop its head, long black locks segmented into thick braids that ran along its back, decorated with delicate ribbons that held tiny gold bells.

"Are you their leader?" I asked, watching the creature tilt its head, the eyes around its neck opening and closing as it did so. All at once, they looked like they were blinking in disbelief.

"Wrong," it said, and then I heard the other two, their voices coming from my bedroom.

"The girl thinks she knows," one said, its footfalls scurrying across my bedroom floor.

I looked into my room for just a moment and caught a glimpse of the troublesome pair, stacking all my stuffed animals in precarious towers beside the bay window.

"The girl thinks she knows, still," the other one replied.

It had been the blue one and it was this creature that moved over to my bed, hopped on top of it, and threw each of my pillows onto the floor. The red one stopped making his stuffed animal towers- my poor turtle at one of the tower's apexes, threatening to topple over.

He came over to my strewn about pillows and began to stack them. I shook my head, not knowing how to handle this trio and returned myself to the purple one. It said less than the others but it had a calmer demeanor about it that I found refreshing.

"So you've been watching me?" I asked.

The violet one looked away from me with its big opalescent eyes and stared at the vase of knocked over flowers. It hopped off the table, the tiny bells in its hair jingling as it did so, and began eating the petals of the roses. It only stopped once to glance my way and answer, "Wrong."

Soft chuckles came from my room. The other buggers were laughing at my expense. Why was it that plain or magical, I had been Peneloper Auttsley, the butt of all jokes?

As I leaned against the wall, staring at the lightening grey, I had an epiphany of sorts. If I asked the wrong questions to the purple creature, than maybe I could find out answers. It was a sad day to realize I was barely more cunning than three creatures who wore eyeballs, ate flowers, and loved to stack things.

"So you weren't watching me." I sighed, the violent creature chomping delightfully on a few stems. " Were you helping me?"

"Wrong," it said, in between chomps.

The creature had a very small mouth that housed very small and very rounded teeth. At least it didn't have the incisors to tear through meat. Hopefully, that meant that I'd be safe.

More chuckles came from my bedroom. Though these were further away. The other two creatures had made their way into my bathroom, and stood one on top of the other, stacking the few things I had by my sink.

"Why can I see you now?"

"Wrong," the purple one said and after filling its round belly with flowers, it scurried past me to join its companions in my bedroom.

I followed suit, almost tripping over stacks of pillows and stuffed animals. My floor was scattered with the tiny towers of a carpet city. I wish they could have organized things in a more helpful manner.

"Were you sent here?" I asked,
sitting on my bed, a freely swinging leg knocking over the leaning tower that held my stuffed turtle. The creatures stopped and stared at me, a feeling a guilt rising in my belly.

I knew these creatures were pests, evasive and invasive, but still, I felt bad at having knocked over their hard work, as absurd as I may have found it. They only looked miserable for a few seconds before their faces relaxed and they ran over to re-stack the fallen tower.

The violet one was beside my bay window and it just stared at me with a smile. Silence passed between us. No 'wrong.' Perhaps this was how it said I was right.

"Were you sent here to keep an eye on me?" (The irony in this sentence is not lost on me).

The violet one's smile just grew bigger.

"The girl is getting it," the red one said, a content look feeding its fat face, my turtle, once again, the crowning glory of a stuffed animal tower.

"The girl is getting it, definitely," the blue one said, rifling through my drawers, throwing clothes about my floor. It looked as though he was searching for something else to stack but clothes made for lousy towers and I think the creature knew this. He must have stacked many things in it's lifetime.

"Were you sent to protect me from something?"

The smile faded from the violet creature's face.

"Wrong," it said, a stern voice housed in that word this time.

Maybe they too were annoyed with me and my inability to get it. The two other creatures stumbled upon my sock drawer and content with the rolled up pairs of socks, began to stack them.

"Were you sent to protect me from someone?"

Maybe they were strict adherers to wording. The violet one smiled, one that was long and thin, and that grew until it cut it's face in half. Then the creature disappeared with a pop!

"The girl got it," the red one said and then, pop! It disappeared, a pair of paisley patterned summer socks falling to the floor.

"The girl got it, definitely," the blue one responded and then it, too, popped and disappeared, the tower of socks left incomplete on my floor.

I was left alone in my room, tiny towers surrounding me, wondering who had sent those creatures to protect me. They didn't seem the most reliable creatures but they definitely were some of the weirdest I'd encountered thus far.

Odd guardians for the odd duck. How fitting.

My alarm clock went off, 6 a.m. sharp, taking me out of my own head. I threw a heavy hand on it's stopper and went to the bathroom. It was time for me to get ready for a new school week.