Dubravka Ugresic
HOUSEHOLD SPRITES Illustrated by Dusan Petricic Translated from the Croatian by Ellen Elias-Bursac
DEAR READERS, Have you been stumbling lately? Over the same doorsill in your apartment? Does the cupboard door knock you on the head for no reason? Or perhaps you can’t find something that was in front of your nose but a moment ago? Have things been rustling, creaking or tapping in your house? Have you found your room in a mess when you were sure you’d tidied it before you left? This apartment is getting too crowded, you mutter huffily. Yes? If so your house may have been possessed by household sprites. Most cultures have beliefs of an ancestral protector who watches over the home. The Romans called this household deity genius loci: it usually assumes the guise of a snake. The snake guardian lives under the doorsill or by the fire. In the beliefs of many cultures household sprites reside in the hearth. Talasons are believed to be benevolent spirits that are built into the walls of homes. Builders used to measure someone’s shadow on the sly and then brick it into the foundation of the house they were building. Hence the belief that Talasons come from shadows. The Talason is invisible (some believe it can only be seen by a dog or by someone born on Tuesday or Saturday). It is called Pergalio in Greek, Domovoy in Russian, Kobold in German, Didko in Czech, Shkrat or Shkratec in Slovenian, Malik or Macich in Croatian and Good Fellow or Borrower in English. Household sprites are often helpful. When a sprite makes itself at home it will do favors for its host now and then if the host family feeds and cares for it, but it may also become dangerous if handled poorly. Such little creatures have been described at times as wizened old men covered with white or brown shaggy hair wearing the face of the master of the house, sometimes missing their nose, other times their feet. All have in common that they love to wear red, usually little red caps. Their power resides in the cap. Some claim that the household sprite may be purchased at a pharmacy and kept in a flask; others suspect that it hatches out of an egg, though only an egg laid by a rooster or a crowing hen. Whoever wishes to hatch such a sprite must carry the egg snugly under the arm for seven to forty days. Of all mythical creatures we know the least about household sprites. Today people consider si4
rens, witches, vampires, fairies, unicorns, household sprites, and countless other intriguing creatures as mere figments of the human imagination, and no longer pay them much attention. As I see it, houses have changed, the style of living and the lives people lead all have changed, so figments of imagination must be keeping pace with the times. I live downtown in a five-story building. I never draw a hog’s head over my doorway to protect me from evil fairies, and I haven’t hammered in a nail or hung a horseshoe or a daisy wreath on the door. I haven’t scattered flax around the floor, and I don’t keep a knife under my pillow as people did in the olden days, but I am always sure to have a strand of red thread or wool in my pocket, one sock under the bed and a bell on the wall. I pour a little milk into a dish before going to bed and leave it out overnight; I stash a tasty piece of candy in some obscure spot and always leave the honey jar uncovered. For the household sprites. And they appreciate it. Whenever I move I always leave old slippers or shoes in my old apartment so that good household sprites may accompany me if they chose to. I have collected my stories on household sprites by observing the tenants in my building. This is far from a comprehensive list of existing household sprites. By the way, with luck you may see them. They are best seen at night, at midnight to be precise, as long as everything that you are wearing is on backwards.
5
THE DARBSONG
is a spiteful imp who can put a person to sleep in the blink of an eye. He appears very rarely but can be quite dangerous, as in a case of Mrs. Plith. She was an agile and vigorous housewife, unusually fond of cooking. And good at it, too. Her jelly doughnuts will never be forgotten. By me. Imagine: Mr. Plith was frying doughnuts one day when a naughty little Darbsong ran his invisible finger along her eyelids. Mrs.Plith slept and dreamed she was frying doughnuts, apron and all, while standing there by the stove. Meanwhile the kitchen was filling with thicker and thicker smoke, and she kept sleeping and sleeping, dreaming and dreaming. The firemen arrived, switched off the stove, and doused Mrs. Plith with water. The incident was repeated when Mrs. Plith was making stuffed breast of veal and a third time when she was making Boston baked beans. All in all, Mrs. Plith has given up cooking. The poor woman now dines in a neighborhood restaurant. Twice she has sat down at the table and fallen asleep. She dreams that she’s ordered a wiener schnitzel with a side of potatoes, then she pays and leaves the restaurant. 6
THE DOODLEY is a mischievous but emotional household sprite, as the story of Suzy Silliput tells us. It is not so bad if you come across a heap of shredded paper but if paper ribbons are curling in every corner and long paper strips come creeping, if you come across fanciful holes cut in brand new books you haven’t read yet, or if your apartment is buried under a snow of many colored paper circles – and to make things worse you have had to buy three pairs of scissors because they keep getting misplaced – then things may be getting out of hand. “Things are getting out of hand” were Suzy Silliput’s exact words as she gave notice to her landlord and summoned the movers. The truck loaded with Suzy’s household belongings was ready to leave when Suzy remembered that she’d forgotten her potted petunia on the kitchen windowsill. When she went back up to the empty apartment Suzy was stunned. In the air hung a marvelous white paper lantern. The paper had been delicately cut like the finest of old lace. Suzy gazed in awe at the lantern, and then put out her hand. The lantern sank onto her palm. On the window sill next to the potted petunia lay three pairs of misplaced scissors. Suzy nodded and left the apartment, smiling absentmindedly with lantern in hand.
8
THE DOOR CREACKER
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