The Bizarre Act of the Jellyfish Girl

 

It was on the night of October 12 of 1935, that Elsa Ludgate caused the bursting of the lantern in front of the grocery store where she worked, with the mere touch of her hand. The event, which caused immediate shock, was described by those who witnessed it as something of the strangest things they would ever see. In the calm of the night, the 22-year-old, wearing a striped sweater and a black skirt over long cotton stockings of the same colour and boots, hurriedly left the place where she worked.as an assistant, taking large and awkward steps, with her right hand firmly clinging to her chest and an expression of deep pain on her face... until she stumbled and, in an attempt to avoid it, held onto the illumination object for a moment, just a moment before it overloaded for no apparent reason and burst.

People, puzzled by what happened, could only see how the fine figure of that young girl vanished unconsciously on the sidewalk, while a cloud of smoke emerged from the exploded light bulb. In a matter of seconds, they ran to surround her, worried about her condition and making endless theories of what had just happened, although without any of them having the slightest idea of the reality. None, except Monsieur Reno, owner of the store and Elsa's employer, who, less than two minutes later, rushed out with a blanket in his hands and yelled at the people to move away, to reach the unconscious young woman.

Between questions and the claim of a poor fellow who tried to check Elsa's pulse by touching her neck, but who instead received a fierce electric shock that made his arm numb, Monsieur Reno wrapped Elsa with the blanket and carried her, taking her back to his business and ending the workday. No explanation, and nothing beyond “She's fine! Leave her alone!" on the part of the good-natured, but curmudgeonly boss, happened. Well, despite his knowledge of what had just happened and the curiosity of the people, partly genuine concern and partly morbid, he could not speak (and honestly, neither explain) about the strange condition of Elsa Ludgate - or, as she called it, the "evil of jellyfish".

Neither she herself understood the what, how or why of it; and throughout her life it had been reviewed by a considerable number of doctors and experts, none of whom could explain it either. The closest thing to an explanation that was ever given to it was the theory that she had been conceived during an electrical storm - justifying with this that particular characteristic of her person, consisting of the presence of an electrical touch, which stood out especially during moments of great emotion or tension. However, as vague or absurd as the logic behind this explanation might be, it was discredited by the second strange characteristic of the girl, which was the absence of a human heart.

How this second aspect was even possible was beyond anyone's comprehension; and although there were countless individuals who wanted to take their case to science, this was never possible, with Elsa's family choosing better to change city and name. But for her it was always clear that there should be a relationship between both aspects of her person, especially due to the fact that her ability (or defect) to generate large electrical discharges occurred precisely in those acceleration situations - and that, for a normal person, surely would have involve a lot of activity of that organ. She learned this the hard way ...

Multiple were the children who cried when feeling her touch at the time of playing; and dozens of small animals that squeaked or become temporarily panicked after her attempts at stroking - although the worst of all these "incidents" was undoubtedly her first kiss, which occurred at the age of ten. Frequently annoyed by the butcher's son, the two-year-older boy took her by surprise one Sunday in the town square, trying to steal her a kiss... only to be thrown ten feet away when he barely felt the lips of the surprised and disgusted Elsa, whose impression of what happened was only worse when people pointed at her and attacked. From the age of three on, she had heard dozens or hundreds of people call her a "phenomenon," and although the term became familiar to her, it did not stop affecting her, soon turning her into a young woman mostly withdrawn from others and with an overly complex perception of herself.

All this, together with the social and political situations in the first decades of 20th century in Europe, make her grown in an environment almost gypsy, moving from side to side with quite frequency… until when, at age sixteen, she finally decided stop creating problems for her family and ran away from home, giving herself a life practically itinerant and almost outlaw.

During the following years she subsisted in various jobs that did not lead to much emotion, nor contact with other people. From shop assistant to street mime, Elsa lived in twelve different cities in less than four years, always under the rule of leaving before anyone found out more about her. Outside of her first name and age, she never revealed her hometown; and she always chose to divert the conversation whenever someone wanted to find out more about her.

This naturally led her to build a reputation as an isolated, unsocial or even rebellious person. However, she was none of this. Not even rebellious. She actually drove herself by her own, making her truly unique and undeniably lonely - an aspect to which, for better or worse, she had grown accustomed over the years. She replaced interpersonal interactions with books, especially of strange or terrifying creatures with whom she managed to identify more than with people; and the inevitable longings for love or passion were projected through the melancholic jazz songs with which she was captivated on the most isolated nights.

 

Of course, it was not until his arrival in the small town of Les Moulins, located in eastern France, that she had the greatest opportunity to enjoy books and jazz music, working in Monsieur Reno's grocery store.

Arriving on a winter night with nothing more than a couple of coins, a bag with her few belongings and garments that would serve more as rags than clothes, the young girl had offered her help in tending the place for a few days in exchange for food. Monsieur Reno, fighter in the atrocious Great War (and in which he lost his wife and son), could not help but feel a strong empathy for the young woman, soon accepting her as the first (and only) assistant in his shop grocery store, also allowing her to stay in the attic of his home.

The pair of winter days soon turned into a couple of weeks and then for months, Elsa not being in position to refuse shelter, hot food and some pay. Likewise, the absence of questions from Monsieur Reno, who was himself a man of few words, regarding any aspect of his past, was well received by the young woman. So, neither she nor he had a problem extending the couple of months, to the almost two years that he would spend there, serving customers or helping in a general way in the grocery store, even turning for the first time since her adolescence, a functional member of a society.

Of course, no one in the town of Les Moulins knew anything about her past, much less her condition (with the exception of Monsieur Reno). To them, Elsa was nothing more than the girl of few words who worked in the grocery store of a man also known for the same trait. But Elsa was not less kind or attentive for that. On the contrary, she used to receive clients with a good attitude, usually hearing them tell her various anecdotes to which she responded with short and cordial phrases. Even when the anecdotes included invitations in the first or second person to meet her with a local boy and she had to refuse, she rejected them as gently as possible.

For Elsa Ludgate, in all her strange being and despite her complex self-perception, could be described as the most unconventional and certainly the loveliest creature anyone could come across. In her fine figure, her skin pale as the moon, black hair that fell to her neck, covering half of her forehead with a small fringe, and in her deep black eyes, expressive of what her mouth did not say, there was something that, although separately might not distinguish her from other young women, on the whole made her undeniably beautiful and captivating of lonely hearts.

Thus, much could be said about the enigmatic and perhaps mystical Elsa Ludgate, also known as "The Jellyfish Girl"; and I, your narrator, could even explain a little more than those anecdotes, now lost, that sought to further explore the unusualness of her person and her act. But since I have decided to make this story, the one that I came to know personally, a more literary and, at the same time, intimate, and less historical account, I will let the events to follow amaze you, I hope, with the due justice that such a particular character deserves... although I well know that there are no words, or sufficient explanations to equate her, or the impression she generated on me and other individuals who got to know her at that precise moment.

Here then, the story of the Jellyfish Girl ...

 

 

 

The night before the lamp incident, Elsa Ludgate had slept erratically. It was true that her sleeping habits weren't the best. She used to stay up late, when the clock struck the two or three in the morning and the city was silent, reading, listening to some songs by Edith Piaf or Ella Fitzgerald, or painting (a habit which she found relaxing, even if she never showed her works to no anyone). She also enjoyed just sitting by the window and observing the moon and the cloudy sky over those buildings that were no more than three floors tall, and in whose bricked streets the lights of the moon and dim lanterns were reflected, usually distorted by restless nocturnal cats, that formed a scene worthy of a Van Gogh painting.

Yet that night had been unusual. Perhaps it was due to the cold autumn wind, or the reading of her most recent literary acquisition, The Creature of the Forest by MR Brody, whose theme of a mysterious being that lurked a peasant village seeking to adapt to human life, but being instead rejected violently by its villagers, might make her remember her inherent loneliness and fall into a certain melancholy. But Elsa felt a deep and overwhelming sense of isolation; and with this she went to bed, finding it difficult to fall asleep and even more to keep it, finding herself restless and changing position over and over again... until, sometime after finally falling asleep, she was shaken by a surprising and incessant sting in her chest, similar to that of a needle being stabbed, promptly causing her to jump out of her bed and land on the floor, then backward in a crawl until her back collides with the wall!

She shrugged her hands tight against her chest, trying to get rid of that imaginary needle and sobbed for a few seconds, before fully regaining her breath and, with it, the absence of that horrible pain.

─Is everything okay? ─she heard Monsieur Reno ask from the stairs.

─Yes… ─Elsa replied, barely regaining her voice and breath─. Yes, don't worry.

─Alright… ─Monsieur Reno said no more.

What had just happened, Elsa couldn't understand. She had never felt such a sting, and all she could think of, was that this was nothing more than a reaction to some bad dream she had just had. In her shudder, she forgot what this was about – and didn't care much either, more concerned about the event itself and what it might imply for her condition. During the last years she had trained to avoid the emergence of new incidents; and the life she led, devoid of strong emotions, gave her the right conditions for it, in such a way that she did not have an "incident" for more than six months. Besides, she had had the brilliant idea of ​​how to deal with them whenever they appeared. Every time she felt uneasy about something, or suspected that she was about to make an electric shock, she held a light bulb... and it illuminated it until the moment that its touch stopped being electrifying.

Therefore, immediately after his strange attack, she rushed to take one of the light bulbs that she kept in a cardboard box under her bed and held it with the tips of her index fingers and thumb. In just an instant, the lightbulb brightened and exploded in front of her. She barely managed to look away before the glass fell on her.

─No, no… please, no ─she said to herself, taking another light bulb.

It lit up at the mere feel of her touch, but didn't explode, fading after a couple of seconds. Elsa took a third bulb and ran the same experiment, trying to make sure the second had not merely blown out. It was not the case. Her touch had calmed down again and Elsa sighed in relief.

She got up carefully, making sure not to step on the glass on the broken bulb, and scooped them up with a broom and a piece of cardboard. She put the box of light bulbs away again and his gaze was distracted by his reflection in the mirror. Her hair had puffed up like a ball on her head after the sting attack.

─Oh, well... ─she said ─. What was that? ─she wondered, sitting on her bed and rubbing her chest, restless and fearful.

Like various things regarding his person, she couldn't understand it; and chose to attribute it merely to a nightmare that she could not remember, product of a fascinating but depressing read. At the very least, that was what she wanted (and struggled to) think. If not, and instead it was something typical of her strange condition, then she would be facing the problem that she tried to control and it terrified her.

 

*****

 

Morning came, and Elsa felt her head and eyes heavy from last night's bad sleep. Her main action was again to test the state of her touch with two different bulbs. This time none lit up – which gave her some calm. It would be just another Tuesday, she thought. Little did she imagine that it would be the day that her life would be turned to the legend that some of us still know today.

She put on one of her records – Django Reinhart's All the Things You Are accompanied her as she prepared for the day. She dressed: a black dress, cotton stockings of the same colour and black boots, as well as a black and white striped sweater that she would wear when the temperature dropped. She managed that tousled hair with great effort, until it gave her the subtle, presentable look that distinguished her. Finally, a bit of lipstick in a soft shade of red. She lacked a heart, and yet her image was capable of stealing several. Her attraction was an implicit one, not explosive, but captivating like a full moon night over a lonely meadow, capable of bringing calm and, at the same time, the desire for adventure just by observing her.

Thinking about what had happened the night before, she rubbed her chest once more. There was no puncture, but her concern that it would return was still present, so she decided to carry a light bulb with her in her dress bag, in case she felt uneasy.

She had a piece of bread and a glass of milk for breakfast; and served a plate of this to the orange cat who used to hang around Monsieur Reno's house. She called him "Keaton".

Almost at the instant she left the small plate at the front door, the cat appeared; and Elsa, kneeling, admired him with a smile. Naturally, she couldn't touch it. Even when she wasn't nervous or accelerated, she preferred not to risk injuring someone with a sudden electric shock.

Keaton's fur was more tousled than usual, which intrigued the girl.

─You had a difficult night too, huh? ─she said.

The cat looked up at her and meowed.

─I understand you… ─Elsa answered─. Stay out of trouble, will you?

The cat meowed once more and concentrated on its food again.

Elsa left him and walked to the grocery store, located at the end of the street. Monsieur Reno used to open it every morning at six. By the time Elsa arrived, shortly before eight, her employer had already set up the bread and vegetable stand outside the premises, and was in a hurry inside, serving his various customers. The arrival of the young woman freed him of these and allowed him to concentrate on cleaning or arranging things, which he preferred to having to talk about local and nonsense issues that his clients insisted on telling him, even without having asked them. Elsa then became his unwitting audience – and she used to find out about all sorts of things. Problems, affairs and secrets that should not be revealed were told to her every morning; and through these, she knew the society of Les Moulins better than through personal interaction.

Every time she saw a person enter the business or pass in front of it, she knew who their family was, who they were related to, who had problems with, and what they were. And she knew it without being intrusive. It was enough to pay a little attention to what her clients told her and to observe the behaviour of the people. She avoided judging them as much as she avoided letting them know anything about her.

─You are very reserved, Miss Ludgate! ─she was used to be told; on that occasion was no exception─. We often wonder what mysterious story brought her to Les Moulins!

─There is nothing interesting in my story, or in me ─she replied, shrugging her shoulders, but with all kindness─. I was just looking for a place to live and here I am...

Although she used to hear this often, this morning it made her uncomfortable. Her particularity and her past history were not subjects she wanted to think about after the night before.

─Ah yes! ─replied Madame Vartan, one of the two women spoking to her─. And it is nice having you here, running Monsieur Reno's business and giving someone to talk to, for a change! You know how reserved he can be...

─Yes, I know, ─Elsa replied, with a small laugh.

─But tell us, girl ─Madame Laforet continued now─, is it that you never intend to marry? Two years here and we've never seen him with any of our guys!

Elsa blushed and looked down, shaking her head. She knew the conversation would go in that direction, starting from the update of the doctor's son's involvement with a questionable gypsy woman.

─Love is not my thing… ─she limited herself to answer.

─What are you saying! ─Madame Vartan exclaimed, puzzled─. Is someone like you not interested in love? But if it would be that easy for any boy to fall in love with you! In fact, I've heard a couple express pleasure in your person...

Elsa's rueful smile spread wider and she insisted on shaking her head. The ends of her hair bounced against her cheeks as she did this.

─Oh come on girl! Don't be so shy! ─Madame Laforet insisted─. Let us arrange a date for you with a boy. It sure does you good!

─No, you’re very nice, but no, thank you ─Elsa replied.

─But why not? ─Madame Vartan questioned.

─Just not… ─Elsa shrugged herself, avoiding looking at them.

In the midst of this awkward conversation, the sting momentarily returned to her chest. Although to a much lesser extent than last night, it didn't stop worrying her, making her run her hand over it and take a deep breath, straightening her back.

─Are you okay, my girl? ─Madame Laforet asked her.

─We haven't made her feel bad, have we? ─Madame Vartan continued─. We just wanted to help you; you know...

─No, it's not that ─Elsa replied─. It's ... something else.

The stinging disappeared and she released her breath, returning to her normal position.

─Well, if you change your mind about us making a date with some decent guy, please let us know, okay? ─Madame Vartan continued.

Elsa, not absent from her good manners, nodded and thanked. Of course, she would never think of asking such a thing from them, but she appreciated the good intention.

As the pair of women left, Elsa took the light bulb out of her dress and, under the counter, touched it with the tips of her fingers, checking the state of her touch. The lightbulb didn't light up and that relieved her for a second, then wondering why the discomfort was returning at that moment.

It hadn't been the product of a lucid dream, and that made her uneasy. What could it be? It was not accelerated, nor was it annoying. Was it merely incidental? She tried to regulate her breathing with deep inhalations and exhalations for a few minutes.

─Are you okay? ─Monsieur Reno asked.

─Yes, Monsieur Reno ─the girl replied, not wanting to worry him.

─What happened last night? I heard a knock.

─I had a nightmare. It woke me up suddenly and I fell out of bed.

─A nightmare? Are you sure?

Elsa nodded to each question.

─Has it nothing to do with your… thing? ─Monsieur Reno questioned.

Elsa had found it necessary to tell him about his condition a few months after starting working for him, requiring to explain why she couldn't touch another person or being – and showing him by lighting a lightbulb.

─I can't explain why ─she had said─. No one has been able to do it. It's just something that happens that I can't control at all. I assure you that I am not a freak... or maybe I am, but I have no bad intentions. On the contrary, if I mention this to you, it is because I want to avoid problems for you or me. So, if you think it is preferable that you stop working for you, I will understand.

Monsieur Reno was silent for a few seconds, and finally shook his head.

─No need ─he replied─. Just don't touch anyone, okay?

─Okay ─Elsa smiled, surprised at her employer's calm on the subject.

That had made Monsieur Reno the first person to whom she had mentioned her condition… and the only one since.

─No ─Elsa answered Monsieur Reno's question regarding her discomfort─. Well, I'm not sure... something like this has never happened to me.

─If you need to take the day off, that's fine ─Monsieur Reno raised.

─No, you don't have to ─Elsa said─. At least not for now. Thank you.

─You’ll know… ─Monsieur Reno answered finally.

Watching for the repetition of the sting, Elsa spent the entire day doing breathing exercises and checking her touch from hour to hour. Neither the discomfort nor the generating electricity with her skin were present throughout the day and, by nightfall, Elsa had almost convinced herself that it was just a problem from the night before. As the clientele dwindled, she prepared to read another of her books, while Monsieur Reno placed a music record on the turntable in the far corner behind the counter and sat down to read the newspaper, as always, with a glass of wine.

The news spoke of the tense political situation in Germany.

─Oh, boy... ─Monsieur Reno sighed─. Hear my words when I tell you that’s happening in Germany is not going to bring good things. Amazing! As if what happened twenty years ago had not been enough...

Elsa simply agreed with the opinions of her employer.

─This world is going to go to hell if it continues like this… ─Monsieur Reno closed the newspaper.

The young woman just stared at him silently, considering that disgust as a reaction to Monsieur Reno's experiences during the war. She herself was familiar with that terrible event, having her family to leave their hometown before its destruction. The few memories she had of that time, as a little girl less than two years old, were of evacuated cities and beautiful fields turned into battle sites. She seldom stopped to think about it, although she had done this more often since she had started working with Monsieur Reno, who on occasion talked about it. After all, it was perhaps the only thing the man deigned to comment in greater detail and always with disgust.

─Maybe they will come to their senses and the matter will calm down ─Elsa replied.

─Man rarely comes to his senses, ─exclaimed Monsieur Reno─. And when it does, it is usually too late. This will bring trouble. Egregious troubles that they’ll only understand once they have passed... Sorry ─he replied, empathic─. I don't want to rush you. It's just that people's stupidity bothers me.

─It’s okay ─Elsa smiled kindly─. That doesn't stress me up, nor anything.

─Well it should. People like you are the ones who’ll suffer the consequences of that the most.

Elsa was silent again, not wanting to provoke him anymore. Edith Piaf's songs were the only thing that was heard for a few minutes inside the store, which at that time had no customers... until the little bell above the door was heard knocking with the entrance of a beautiful woman and two men, one young and one older than the woman. Neither were known to Monsieur Reno, nor Elsa… which could only mean that they were foreigners – and which soon attracted the attention of the boss and the shop assistant.

─Good evening ─greeted the woman, whose figure was sensual, with tanned skin and sumptuous lips under wide eyes─. Excuse me, but people have told me that I can find sacks of flour, wheat and other staples in large quantities here. It is right?

─It is correct ─replied Monsieur Reno─. What do you need?

What was requested by the woman was a lot. Forty pounds of flour, forty of wheat, thirty of beans and forty cans of the largest variety of foods.

Monsieur Reno took note of it, then asking if they had where to take it.

─We have a van outside, thank you ─replied the woman─. And guys to carry it all, too.

Elsa looked at the woman's companions with discretion, but quite curious. Couldn't help it. Very rarely was the time someone from outside the town was seen. The largest man was tall and robust; he must have been in his mid-fifties and was wearing an elegant but worn brown suit with a beret; his hair was curly and his face good-natured, but serious, attentive to the indications of his employer. The young man would not be more than five years older than Elsa, slim and black-haired, with thick, furrowed eyebrows. He wore an old striped shirt under a slightly torn black jacket and brown pants, also worn. One could see that they were not money people, nor were they conventional. But it was the woman the most striking. In a somewhat sparkly purple dress, her appearance implied both class and some showmanship. She was searching to be presentable and her talking was friendly and cordial, but not the social type.

Monsieur Reno went to the cellar in search of what was requested and left them alone with Elsa, whose discreet gaze between her bowed head fringe was perceived by the woman.

─Do you see something you like, darling? ─she asked, with a certain joking insinuation.

─Excuse me. ─Elsa looked away.

─It's okay, dear ─the woman replied─. You can look at us. We are used to it. How much you have here, ah! ─she warned, walking through the store─. Quite well stocked for such a small-town shop… Good for you and your father.

─Monsieur Reno is not my father ─Elsa replied, with a certain laugh.

─No? Well, whatever he is to you, the store is well stocked.

─Thank you ─Elsa granted a certain smile, now looking at the two men.

The stout man was smiling kindly at him; the young man did not look at her for more than a second, diverting his attention to the place. Elsa considered this rude.

─Who is that? ─asked the stout man, hearing the music.

─It's Edith Piaf ─replied the young man with some stress.

─Who?

─A new singer…

─I like it. It’s good ─he smiled at Elsa.

Monsieur Reno returned at once, carrying two twenty-pound sacks of flour.

─Help the man, boys! ─the woman ordered them─. Come on!

The two followed her order promptly, soon helping Monsieur Reno carrying these and the next few sacks to the old truck waiting for them outside.

Elsa did not stop watching them, never ceasing her curiosity as to who these individuals were – and drawing her attention to the old and blurred logo that was displayed in the dust on the white door of the truck. With some effort, the young woman managed to read him: The Spectacle of the Bizarre by G. Vacaretti was what it said; and in her memory, that name echoed, recognizing it as a circus whose function she had attended many years ago, when she was still small and capable of feeling awe and emotion.

A tiny smile crossed her face as she thought about it… and that's when it happened. Out of the apparent nothing, the sudden sting struck her chest, making her feel pierced by a great needle that shook her again, this time with a greater force than the night before, and she bent over the counter, taking her right hand to his chest with a strong but useless pinch that did not alter her discomfort at all.

─Elsa? ─Monsieur Reno called her, at the door─. Are you okay…?

Before the young woman could even respond, the desperate lack of air made her run behind the counter and the place, in big and clumsy steps with which she made her way through the people; and, coming to the corner, with her knees wobbling, she stumbled and held onto the lantern with her left hand. Seconds after resting her slender hand on it, the object lit up at full power, distracting the instant attention of those around it… and then exploding like a small cannon.

Elsa Ludgate, having discharged what was the greatest amount of energy she would have had in an "incident", fell unconscious on the sidewalk.

─Elsa! ─exclaimed Monsieur Reno, leaving a woman mysterious to go in search of some blanket.

─What happened? ─asked the woman, without receiving any answer.

The mob gathered around the girl, outraged by what happened.

─What happened? ─they asked ─. Is she okay? Ms. Ludgate?

─Is she alive?

The young companion of the mysterious client bent down to check her pulse from her neck, but a shock that struck his hand at the mere contact sent his tumbling onto his back.

─Ah! Son of ...! ─he yelled.

─She’s still electrified! ─warned some local woman.

─Does she have a pulse? ─the sturdy man asked his young companion.

─I don't know! I couldn't touch it! ─answered the young one.

─Get off! ─Monsieur Reno shouted, pushing his way through the mob.

─Watch out, Monsieur Reno! The girl has been electrocuted! ─they warned him.

He ignored them. She covered Elsa with the blanket, taking care that his skin did not touch the girl's, and carried her back to the premises. He kicked the door and, after setting Elsa on one of the counters, closed curtains and windows, while the curious mob stood outside, intrigued and full of doubts.

The young woman would not wake up all night, but the rise and fall of her chest let her employer know that she was still alive. Her hair was ruffled again and, like the rest of her body, it was littered with ash and crystals from the destroyed bulb. The strangest thing, however, was how her pale cheeks seemed to glow.

Such detail puzzled Monsieur Reno, who could only hope that when the young woman woke up, she would explain to him what had just happened and which, he knew, would not go unnoticed by the people. Elsa Ludgate had caused the lantern to burst... and her life would never be the same after this.