Elicia Hughes

[An hour or so after bed, Elicia hears something creak. It's harmless and probably something like a tree scratching something, or a mouse finding its way. But it sparks a barrage of images within this small child's brain that would probably make a therapist shake their heads. Things like floating objects and scary figures and things under her bed oh god. Acute paranoia tonight, this one. So she speaks in a really low whisper as though she's on a secret mission, hidden up to her ears in blanket. Must be a nice windy winter night.]

Um....

Are ghosts real? They aren't, right? But—But I guess good ghosts are okay! Do those count? Are they real either?

[Her eyes dart from one side of the room to the other, and she's totally expecting something scary to happen on one side or the other. Any minute now. No, no, be brave, there's nothing going on. Nothing at aaaaall. ;~;

Gulp.]

Oh! New Feathers are here, too... huh...

I'm Elicia, and I'm six years o—

[rustle rustle]

Meep!

[...And back under the sheets. Yup.]