Erlkönig was the name on the spine of the book. One of many impenetrable, thickly wrought texts from her late grandfather’s library, that she had spent weeks now digging into. She thought if she could bring herself to understand them, maybe she’d come to understand what drove grandpa Morty to do what he did. The subject no one would breach at the dinner table, absent from his obituary, from the stories told at his funeral. And so, with nowhere else to go, Pari retreated to the library in the basement, and by flashlight read the books which Morty loved so much. 

It was a melancholy task. Morty’s memory hung heavy in the air, despite, or perhaps even more because of, his final act. Every work he kept, without exception, was dense and metaphorical in nature, obscure books which Pari had never heard of in her life. It made her feel as if she had stumbled into another world, ripe with foreign meaning and emotion. An uncanny musk hung in the air and clung to the books. Pari had to go upstairs and cough periodically, just to clear her sinuses of the smell. Despite the suffocating nature of the place, Pari found comfort in it. It was a brief but welcome respite from the family.  

Erlkönig was the sixth book Pari found. She felt no closer to her grandfather after clawing her way through five of his incomprehensible books, although by now her goal had somewhat shifted. Just by being here, immersed in his world, she felt changed. Like her mind had begun to rotate, pulled into alignment by the magnetic refuse of Morty’s presence. Reading the book was a secondary goal only. She could not have anticipated how much it would engross her. 

Erlkönig was a 1904 reimagining of an operatic poem of the same name, written by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe. It follows the original’s story structure, of a father and son riding on horseback through the forest, pursued by a fae spirit only the son sees. His father denies its presence, attributing it to the mist rising over the plain. It is only once his son is dead that he acknowledges the existence of the supernatural Erl King. The 1904 edition embellished the story with context and clothed it in disarmingly beautiful prose. Pari read it in a single sitting. She was simply unable to pull herself away.  

When Pari went to sleep that night, she found her dreams filled with music. Grandiose and dramatic, the piano played baroque declarations while an impassioned baritone sang in German. She perfectly understood his words, despite having never spoken the language. He was singing the story of the Erl King.  

Pari awoke filled with dread. She rushed down the stairs, tripped over her foot, and caught herself on the railing, making a loud thud as her shoulder hit the wall. Her mother called after her as she ran into the basement, leaving one slipper behind on the kitchen tile. She pressed against the bookshelf and began pulling down volumes of an encyclopedia. Last night she put the book back in a hurry. Where? She had to find it, to read it again, to hear it speak to her again. She searched frantically for what felt like an eternity but found no sign of the thin yellow volume. Exhausted, she collapsed on a moldy armchair. Would her questions go unanswered? She was sure the book was calling to her, begging her to read it again. Why else would it have given her such beautiful, haunting music in her dream? Her lip began to quiver. Did the book not want her to have it after all? 

What? A book, wanting to be read? What in the world was Pari thinking? She was a strictly rational person, unsuperstitious, as devout an atheist as an atheist can be. The rotting air of the place must have gotten to her after all. She would go back upstairs and forget about this rash episode. Morty’s memory wouldn’t be tarnished any further by her refusal to remain in his eerie library. 

And with a soft rush of air, like the sound of a cushion being dropped from great height, Erlkönig fell gently into Pari’s lap. She stared at the thick black embossing on the spine, the beautifully diminished gold of the cover, its invitingly yellowed pages. With trembling hands, she opened the book once again.  

The book’s prose had not changed from the last time she read it, but she found it immeasurably more lovely than before. The words seemed to leap off the page and dance joyfully around her, then return with grim finality as the boy slumped dead over his father’s horse. Pari learned later that her mother had come downstairs, only to find her hunched and crying, reverently caressing the yellow surface of the book. She had shaken Pari by the shoulder but elicited no response. She must have thought I was grieving, though Pari, and almost had to laugh. That couldn’t be further from the truth. She was crying out of ecstasy. 

She was crying because she and the Erl King shared a beautiful secret. 

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THE ATLANTA RECORD 

VOL. 19, NO. 124 * 12 JUN 2024 

Local Hobby Group Found Hanged In Man’s Apartment 

Wednesday of last week, local landlord Sarah Highlander found her tenant Morty Linden, as well as five other seniors dead, hanging by their necks from the ceiling rafters in Mr. Linden’s apartment. Forensics investigation showed the six had been hanging for 24 hours at least.  

“I’ve never seen anything like it. Well, I’ve never seen any dead people before but – you know what I mean.” Said a shaken Mrs. Highlander to reporters. “An entire room, just up and hanged themselves…” (the interview paused as Highlander took a moment to collect herself.) “I know Morty made them do it. He’s- was- too weird to not be some – some psycho cult leader.” 

The “cult” which Highlander is referring to is likely Linden’s book club, made up of other seniors in the apartment building. They met on Tuesdays and read eclectic literature, of which Linden was fond. Evidence suggests the club hanged themselves during their last meeting.  

Large lettering in bright yellow paint was found on the underside of the carpet, reading “Praise The Erl King”. Authorities are investigating its meaning.  

We at the Atlanta Record would like to wish all Atlanta citizens health and peace of mind through this troubling event. We would also like to express our solidarity with the family of the deceased. Our thoughts and prayers go out to them.