Mrs. Dufton had said the clock was an antique, but Cassandra knew the old woman just wanted to dress up the tiny maid’s room. Not that Cassandra was a maid; the Duftons hadn’t been able to afford a live-in maid in decades. No, Cassandra was renting the maid’s room and helping the Duftons finance their son’s unfortunate capentry business. The Duftons had been so desperate for a tennant they did not even mind Mittens.
(Well, Cassandra knew they actually minded very much, but they did a good show of smiling and showing her where the cutlery was when she went to butcher Mittens’s meal.)
Cassandra sat on her bed and waited, watching the clock and studying how the hands moved, and what must be going on with all the little gears inside, and how the grain of the wood went, and no, it really wasn’t nearly as old as Mrs. Dufton had said. Mittens raddled about in his cage, chewing the bones left over from the chicken she’d given him yesterday. Yellow eyes glared evilly at her.
“Hello, Mittens,” Cassandra said quietly. “You’ll be on your best behavior for Mama, right?”
Mittens grunted and scratched his warty bald head with a browning claw. Cassandra should really cleans those… and sharpen them too: any longer and he’d be able to pick the lock again.
She returned her attention to the clock. It was a few minutes fast, she thought. Yes, something about it was a bit off. Her mother would be arriving right on the hour, as her mother always did, and the clock already read a minute past noon.
Sure enough, two minutes later the doorbell rang. Yes, the clock was about three and half minutes fast…
Cassandra listened to Mrs. Dufton greet her mother as she double checked herself in the narrow mirror on the back of her door. Her hair had been teased perfectly into place and she had managed not to smear her lipstick in the past half she’d had it on. She turned to the side and smoothed the back of her skirt. Then she lifted and lowered her arm twice to make sure her blouse sleeve would keep the bite on her wrist properly covered.
Cassandra noiselessly opened and closed the door and walked as gracefully as she could to greet her mother. The older woman was stil in the foyer with Mrs. Dufton, slowly handing over her handbag and and hat and parasol for Mrs. Dufton to hide away somewhere. Both their backs were to Cassandra and she watched them silently, reading their body lanaguage the way only she could.
Mrs. Dufton thought it was awfully strange for a modern woman to carry a parasol, but oh wasn’t this pocket book nice, and her wedding ring too, Cassie must come from a nice family after all. Meanwhile, Cassandra’s mother was sizing up Mrs. Dufton’s olive complexion– lucky woman probably didn’t have to worry about things like freckles and moles, although she hoped that she wasn’t feeding Cassandra whatever was causing those lovehandles.
“Good afternoon, Mama,” Cassandra said finally.
Cassandra’s mother did not react beyond turning around. Mrs. Dufton jumped and then laughed nervously.
“Afternoon, Cassie,” the plump woman greeted. “I swear, Mrs. Lombard– your daughter walks like a cat!”
“Indeed,” Mrs. Lombard agreed. Cassandra tried not to wince. She could see– no, feel– her mother’s mind crumbling with disappointment. Her daughter could never do anything all the way. She could glide through rooms silently and gracefully, but she never had any presence, she was always and afterthought, she could never–
Cassandra turned to Mrs. Dufton so she wouldn’t have to look at it anymore. “Shall we eat on the patio?” she asked. “It’s a lovely day, and I’m sure mother will love the garden.”
Mrs. Lombard was sufficiently pleased with the little closed in patio the Duftons had at the back of the house. It was shaded enough to not bother her skin, yet it let in a pleasant breeze and Mrs. Dufton’s overflowing garden surrounded them. It was untidy, but pretty enough.
Mrs. Dufton settled them down with a pitcher of lemonade and a plate of cookies before rushing off to finish lunch and hunt down the rest of her family. When her hurried footsteps had disappeared down the hall, Mrs. Lombard reached over and gripped Cassandra’s hand.
“She does know, right?” she asked, thin lips pinching together.
“Of course she does, Mama,” Cassandra answered, eyeing the birthmark on her mother’s thumb, the one that mirrored Cassandra’s own. It was faded by make up. “I mean, I didn’t outright tell her, but as soon as I explained about Mittens she knew…”
Mrs. Lombard narrowed her eyes but relaxed her grip on Cassandra’s hand.
“You should tell her. That way, she knows you know.”
“Yes, Mama,” Cassandra muttered, not raising her eyes.
“Good girl. I’m proud of you,” Mrs. Lombard said and poored them both glasses of lemonade.
They spent the next few minutes in silence. Cassandra could never quite riddle out this part of her mother. The woman was proud of her daughter, but also… it was a pride tinted with something like fear-disgrace-disgust.
Mrs. Dufton returned her her husaband and son. The two men were each carrying a pot of soup and a plate of sandwhiches. Mrs. Dufton served them all and the family chatted amiably while the Lombards watched.
“So where’s Mr. Lombard?” Mr. Dufton asked after they’d exhausted all the new town gossip for that weekend.
“In town, visiting his brother,” Mrs. Lombard answered with polite stiffness. “He’ll stop by in a bit.”
Mr. Dufton asked some more about the family, but Mrs. Lombard would only offer vague, clipped answers. Cassandra stayed quiet until the Duftons son, Jeremy, happened to say:
“I think I’ll build something for the gremlin, a little house to sleep in or soemthing. How’s that sound, Cassie?”
“Oh,” said Cassandra, taken off guard though she should have expected it. “That’d be lovely. I’m sure Mittens will appreciate it.”
Mrs. Lombard snorted. “Little demon is more likely to destroy it,” she said. “Best not to bother.”
Jeremy’s face fell. Cassandra winced. She hated when her mother did things like that. She wanted to be friendly with the people she lived with.
“Did you know,” she said, acting on a sudden impulse, “I think Mr. Walker is having an affair?”
The most gossipy family in town errupted into excited chatter. Mrs. Lombard nearly dropped her spoon. She fixed her daughter with a fierce, reprimanding look. How dare Cassandra know these things?
This was why Mrs. Lombards pride in her daughter was not pure. Cassandra would have to except it.
Sunday, April 3, 2011
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
Wherein HAHA WHAT HELL MAN, TWO MONTHS LATER
Immediately, a warm backdraft of old cooking and furniture polish washed over them, and Maddy squeezed her daughter’s shoulder in a gentle reminder to be polite. She knew Theresa had made a face at the smell.
“Yes, yes, what’sit I can help with?”
The man in the doorway would have been taller than Maddy had he not been hunched at the waist, shoving his headful of steelwool hair outwards like the prow of a ship. His face was prominently-boned - though not exactly bony - in a way that would have looked regal, had he been dressed more neatly. The up-tilt of his chin gave the impression of one familiar with respect.
He blinked when he saw Maddy. Then again, owlishly, when he saw Theresa fawning over one of his pet moles.
“Good morning, Bernard.” Maddy half-curtsied and smiled mildly.
Bernard appeared to flounder for a moment, eyelids fluttering and squinting, but Maddy continued smiling and pretended to not notice. “Hope we aren’t interrupting anything?”
The man cleared his throat fiercely, twice, and began straightening a tie that was not there. “Oh. No, ah. Maddy! Yes. Good morning!”
He had tried a variety of tones and volumes and seemed dissatisfied with each in turn. Though, in all fairness to the man's composure, he seemed mostly preoccupied with Theresa’s squeaking hostage.
“Isn’t it, though? We’ll take up as little of it as possible, then, Bernard. I’m needing some more advice about my home.”
“Oh! Your house. Yes. You’ve had troubles with that.” The man hesitated, looking from her to Theresa to the mole and drumming his fingers against the doorjamb. For a moment, Maddy braced herself for more insistent questions, but instead he asked “Tea?”
“Sounds wonderful.”
He led her into the sitting room - very well-kept, for a bachelor’s, though the classic armchairs and table clashed wincingly with the sleek new sofa. Theresa had already slunk inside and was making nimble work of cornering yet another mole. The pitiful thing scuttled in dim, feeble panic, apparently having caught wind of a grabby predator near, but the beaming Theresa snared it with adoring ease. Maddy chided her daughter half-heartedly while Bernard looked on, clearly uncomfortable.
“Careful, there, with Agamemnon,” he warned hesitantly, lowering himself into a squat armchair. He gestured for Maddy to follow suit on the sofa. “He’s been a uh, a bit of a crab lately. A bit nibbly.”
Theresa had been giggling quietly and grinning her ill-fitted grin, but both were dropped like hot plates as she turned to look at Bernard. She tried for a polite smile and fumbled it horribly. Instead, Theresa simply nodded, all while blithely avoiding the boiling snaps and snarls of her furious captive.
Bernard nodded back. He was smirking good-naturedly. Settling down into his familiar armchair appeared to have a grounding effect on him, had given him a better sense of things. The almost-regal man cleared his throat once before sitting back and tossing one knee over the other.
“Marvelous. Marvelous.” Bernard propped his elbows against the armrests and began folding and rolling his hands, peering pensively at Maddy from behind them. “Well then, if I may ask a question or two regarding your question or two?”
“Of course.”
Maddy waited long enough for the man to distractedly scrub his stubble and open his mouth, before interrupting him with a smiling “Tea?”
Bernard’s face crumpled. His hands began to nearly wring themselves, instead. “Yes! Tea. That’s what I dragged you in here for to begin with, wasn’t it?”
Maddy watched from the corner of her eye as her host fussed away to the kitchen, muttering something charming and apologetic over his shoulder. She waited until he had cleared earshot before sighing quietly.
This... this will become delicate. It was vital that Maddy watch her step. Bernard’s mind was a devilishly well-polished trap for any inconsistence of story, or hiccup of logic - or outright lie, of course. Forty years as an attorney makes for exquisite polish. Bernard had a sort of intimidated respect for Maddy, and so was quick to assist her whenever he was able, but Maddy knew for a fact that the man’s perceptiveness would not be overruled by his obliging nature.
If only the polish had gone the way of the courtroom attire. Maddy thought, but grimaced and shook the silly thought away. Concentration. That was the name of the game, now. She had formed a general plan of attack while making breakfast, then mentally smoothed and folded and unfolded it on the drive over. Now was the time to steel herself, and execute.
“Cookies, Maddy?” Bernard shouted. Maddy tensed at the sound, then relaxed, and frowned; her head had lately become more and more unruly. More given to drifting.
If you act that way while talking, he'll sniff you out in a heartbeat. Sharpen up. Maddy thought, trying to bully herself into attentiveness. The warm weather was to blame, she decided.
“Maddy?” He sounded muffled, like he was wading chin-deep through boxes. “I said, would you like some cookies, as well?”
“Please.”
“What’sat?”
“Ah, yes, please!”
The man reappeared soon after, saddled with a crowded tea tray and chortling warmly. “No need to shout, you know!”
Maddy grinned at the joke.
Once the tea and surprisingly nice cookies - macadamia, Maddy noted, pleased - had been properly fretted over by the host, Bernard again settled into himself. The difference in presence, compared to what he had greeted Maddy and Theresa with, was striking.
“Wonderful! Well then, young Maddy.” Bernard swept his knuckly hand grandly, giving her the floor. “If you feel so inclined.”
That would have been nice. Regardless, Maddy bit the bullet. “It’s not very cut-and-dry, sad to say. Along the lines of the usual. Last month, you lent us that -- to put over the hearth, you said --”
“Horseshoe, yes.” His hands were again rolling and folding over one another. “Very good to set up, in structures with rebellious natures. Only manmade ones, however. Hauntings and the like. I've read, in my leisure, that they fixate upon it, for some reason - the shape, I think. The curve appeals to them, as it's not exactly common to see in buildings."
If he hadn't been up to snuff as an attorney, Maddy thought, he would've made a very fine professor.
" - and so once they've done that, if you flip the little thing around, well!" He gave a bubbly chuckle before biting into a cookie. "I imagine it's a bit like what we feel, when playing Pin-the-Tail-on-the-Donkey. Blinded and spun!"
Bernard continued chuckling for a moment, appreciating his clever analogy, before catching himself up to the discussion on-hand. He frowned. "But it sounds like that's no help to you?"
“Oh, no, it helps," Maddy said quickly, placing her cup down. The tea was a bit strong. “It certainly helps. But it seems that - most the time - I have to pair it with a little something else, at least if I want to get anywhere.”
“Something else?”
“Just, you know...” She waved vaguely, casting about for a typical homeowner's response. Whatever that might be. Bernard’s eyes widened as they fixed upon Maddy's hand, and she hesitated before going on. “Bargaining, bullying...”
“... bludgeoning?” Bernard smirked. Maddy was jarred before realizing that her knuckles were a parkinglot oilspill of bruises.
The man guffawed, loudly and good-naturedly, at the sheepish look on the face of his guest. Between the laughter and the wide, appreciative smirk, the skin of his face threatened to split over his broad skull. “You told me, back the other time, that it’s - what was it you said.. a wonderful opportunity to test your patience, Maddy? What happened there?”
“Yes... well.” Maddy toyed with the rim of her teacup, a rueful smile creeping up her chin. “No one passes every test.”
"Too true, too true." Bernard agreed, relenting. His mirth had dried up into contented humming. “Though, it’s always been... challenging, for a house, hasn’t it? You say you inherited it?”
“Mmm, yes. My great great uncle was an architect. Designed it himself.”
“Is that right!" The man grinned. "And how did your great great aunt feel about that?”
Maddy raised an eyebrow in mock disdain, but a twitch of the lips gave her away. “He meant well, you know. Saw it as a sort of... security effort, I think. A lock's only useful 'til it's broken, was his logic." Which was very true, very sound logic. But his solution seemed grossly lacking in such. "Said he was going to sell the idea to a dying pharaoh, one day - set himself up for life.”
“Then, does it work? Is it effective?”
“There's no telling. We've never needed it.” Maddy paused with a cookie halfway to her mouth. “Which might be a 'yes'? Now that I think of it, we don’t go down to the cellar often - it may be a good idea to check for skeletons --”
Bernard spluttered tea on himself.
“Overall security, though, is not the issue. At least not really. I'd like to find a way to keep the house fixed to a certain layout, until its shifting around would actually be to our benefit." She took another sip of tea, to cover her held breath. Breach it easy. Steady. "Though possibly, it's useless to begin with... We’ve been getting pests, lately, in and out...
Bernard's mouth twisted in squeamish sympathy. “Pests?”
“Yes, you know. Rats.”
“Rats again?”
“Rats do seem to love us. The masochists." Maddy grimaced, apparently irritated at the thought. In realty a bit of macadamia had lodged between two of her molars. "And a raccoon in the attic, I think. I heard it cackling the other night.”
“Hmmm." The rolling and folding of Bernard's hands slowed. His lips pursed. "So you’re looking to discipline the house, while at the same time improve security.”
“Something like that, yes.” Maddy adopted a lazy pace in sugaring her second cup of tea. All the while, she watched Bernard from the edge of her vision; his change in behavior, this sudden deliberateness, gave her a tickle of unease. “'Insulation' might be the better word.”
He said nothing. Again, Bernard began to scrub his stubble.
Humid, viscous instinct suddenly flared to life in Maddy's stomach, and screamed run! seconds before the entire atmosphere of the room shifted.
Bernard's voice was level when he asked "What happened to your arm, Madeline?" but his face was running full-mast with alarm and whirling thought. Maddy had missed a spot, covering her pink skin with makeup.
Cheap snake oil. Maddy seethed at herself. "Bernard, you --"
He exploded out of his chair, spine straightening boldly but retreating backwards from the sofa. "No rat did that to you, Madeline! What i--"
There was a spasm of sound as the teatray was rattled and Maddy appeared directly in front of Bernard, hand clapped over his mouth and face silently furious.
"Be quiet."
The two froze. For the most part, at least; Bernard's chest was gradually picking up speed in its swelling and falling, panic eating away at his lungs. Having his mouth forced shut was unlikely to be helpful.
Maddy could care less at the moment. She was straining her ears and staring hard at nothing. You're somewhere upstairs, aren't you, sunshine? You didn't hear all that. You're not sitting in the hall. Right, sweetie?
Sandpaper moments grated past, one after another. Then a rumble of feet and a glimmer of laughter came floating down from the ceiling, and Maddy nearly sagged with relief.
But there was absolutely no time for that. Maddy had a very intelligent, very alarmed man to deal with for now. She had gambled, and she had lost, and now she had to explain. The question in his eyes - How's Theresa involved in this? - was the most twisting one he could have possibly asked. It was also the only one that really mattered. Maddy's mouth felt sour.
She kept Bernard muffled, for the moment, and began.
"Theresa... Theresa is very good at finding things. You know this, already." Bernard was glaring searchingly, waiting for Maddy to go on, or for the information to pool together with something else in his mind. Satisfied that the man would listen, Maddy removed her hand. "Last night, when she was asleep, I think she found something by accident."
"Something dan--"
"You keep your voice down."
"... something dangerous, clearly." Bernard licked his lips, shooting another jittery glance at the newly-healed skin. Then licked his lips again. "And if - whatever it was, this rat of yours - if it had gotten loose in the town?"
Maddy looked at him squarely, levelly, stonily. She might have been carved out of raw confidence. But her voice had dropped when she said "That wouldn't have happened, Bernard."
“It’s...!" He muffled himself and took several slow, soothing breaths, through his nose. He paced away from Maddy and brought his bony hands to his temples. “You’re letting things in, and...!”
"This situation will correct itself, Bernard." Maddy fought the urge to step closer to him. He just might have bolted, then. "She's come into herself younger than most do, usually, but it's not unheard of. It's not dangerous. I will get her a tutor, very soon. It will be fine, Bernard."
"Fine," he laughed, quietly but harshly. "'Fine,' she says. The chewtoy says."
"Bernard --"
"It was fine this time. Luck could account for that," he nearly sneered. Then turned abruptly pleading. "Maddy, surely you can see this is absurd. Even you can't fight off everything, and if she... if she were to find something worse--"
"I only need something temporary, Bernard," she barreled over him. "Anything temporary. Just insulation. Just until I can find her a fitting tutor."
“This... this is a community, Madeline. A safe, healthy community. You’ve your biases and I’ve mine, but none should come into play when it’s time for safety." He licked his lips anxiously, eyeing her. "Do you understand? When it's time for... for separating the wheat from the chaff, as it were --"
“‘Separating the wheat from the chaff’ applies to wheat - and - chaff.” Maddy’s eyes had never been what one would call kind, but as she spoke they frothed over with a vulpine gleam. Shrewd voracity leered out from them like animals from caves. “Not. People.”
He heaved a weary sigh, and looked at her pityingly. His face was unreadable to her, at first. Then instinct - that clever old friend - squirmed warningly inside of Maddy, and realization came thundering down like a bombshell freighttrain, and her face brightened with acute horror.
"Maddy..."
"Don't you put it into words." Her voice was a cold sizzle. "Don't you put it in the open air, not while I'm breathing it."
"There are safer places for her, M --"
Bernard was cut off by his own yelp, staggering backwards against the wall. Maddy had lunged, and though her hands were limp and harmless, they were collaring Bernard's neck.
"I am not sending my child away, Bernard." A simple fact. Deadly soft, and simple. "Nor will anyone take her from me."
She looked hard at him, but Bernard said nothing. Fear and anger but also pity and remorse looked back at Maddy.
"Nor will you say a word of this. To anyone - anyone - who might arrange for such."
Maddy felt no joy in threatening people. Certainly not against a friendly man like Bernard. But at the moment, she would not have thought twice about holding a knife to the world's throat.
Her hands relaxed further and slid outwards, slowly. They settled on Bernard's shoulders.
"... do you understand?"
He said nothing, only continued to eye Maddy closely. She felt the urge to apologize - for nearly knocking over his teatray, at the least - but refused to risk undermining herself. Risk cheapening her conviction from mere seconds ago. Then, she would have to threaten him all over.
"I have nothing that would help you, Maddy." Bernard's voice was hoarse, when he finally spoke, and was that a trace of regret? "But I won't go to the authorities, either."
There - that was twice, today, that she had nearly sagged in relief.
"... but if I feel this town is in danger, Madeline..."
Her attention snapped back. She thought for a moment, and then nodded. It was as fair a compromise as she could hope for.
"Can you point me in the right direction, then. A tutor for her."
"I can't." He brought his huge fossil hands upwards and removed her from his shoulders. "Good luck, Maddy." Then, with little ceremony, he turned and tottered stiffly towards his kitchen. She took this as her dismissal.
After a moment, Maddy had gathered herself enough to call her daughter down, and lead her back outside. The last thing she wanted form the day was Theresa to see or smell someone with alcohol, even if they managed only to spill it on themselves from shaking so badly.
(( I really like the word "macadamia." Apparently.
Also, what the hell is the thing with the rats, man
Also DON'T MATCH 2800 WORDS OH MY GOD WHY DID I TYPE THAT MUCH ))
“Yes, yes, what’sit I can help with?”
The man in the doorway would have been taller than Maddy had he not been hunched at the waist, shoving his headful of steelwool hair outwards like the prow of a ship. His face was prominently-boned - though not exactly bony - in a way that would have looked regal, had he been dressed more neatly. The up-tilt of his chin gave the impression of one familiar with respect.
He blinked when he saw Maddy. Then again, owlishly, when he saw Theresa fawning over one of his pet moles.
“Good morning, Bernard.” Maddy half-curtsied and smiled mildly.
Bernard appeared to flounder for a moment, eyelids fluttering and squinting, but Maddy continued smiling and pretended to not notice. “Hope we aren’t interrupting anything?”
The man cleared his throat fiercely, twice, and began straightening a tie that was not there. “Oh. No, ah. Maddy! Yes. Good morning!”
He had tried a variety of tones and volumes and seemed dissatisfied with each in turn. Though, in all fairness to the man's composure, he seemed mostly preoccupied with Theresa’s squeaking hostage.
“Isn’t it, though? We’ll take up as little of it as possible, then, Bernard. I’m needing some more advice about my home.”
“Oh! Your house. Yes. You’ve had troubles with that.” The man hesitated, looking from her to Theresa to the mole and drumming his fingers against the doorjamb. For a moment, Maddy braced herself for more insistent questions, but instead he asked “Tea?”
“Sounds wonderful.”
He led her into the sitting room - very well-kept, for a bachelor’s, though the classic armchairs and table clashed wincingly with the sleek new sofa. Theresa had already slunk inside and was making nimble work of cornering yet another mole. The pitiful thing scuttled in dim, feeble panic, apparently having caught wind of a grabby predator near, but the beaming Theresa snared it with adoring ease. Maddy chided her daughter half-heartedly while Bernard looked on, clearly uncomfortable.
“Careful, there, with Agamemnon,” he warned hesitantly, lowering himself into a squat armchair. He gestured for Maddy to follow suit on the sofa. “He’s been a uh, a bit of a crab lately. A bit nibbly.”
Theresa had been giggling quietly and grinning her ill-fitted grin, but both were dropped like hot plates as she turned to look at Bernard. She tried for a polite smile and fumbled it horribly. Instead, Theresa simply nodded, all while blithely avoiding the boiling snaps and snarls of her furious captive.
Bernard nodded back. He was smirking good-naturedly. Settling down into his familiar armchair appeared to have a grounding effect on him, had given him a better sense of things. The almost-regal man cleared his throat once before sitting back and tossing one knee over the other.
“Marvelous. Marvelous.” Bernard propped his elbows against the armrests and began folding and rolling his hands, peering pensively at Maddy from behind them. “Well then, if I may ask a question or two regarding your question or two?”
“Of course.”
Maddy waited long enough for the man to distractedly scrub his stubble and open his mouth, before interrupting him with a smiling “Tea?”
Bernard’s face crumpled. His hands began to nearly wring themselves, instead. “Yes! Tea. That’s what I dragged you in here for to begin with, wasn’t it?”
Maddy watched from the corner of her eye as her host fussed away to the kitchen, muttering something charming and apologetic over his shoulder. She waited until he had cleared earshot before sighing quietly.
This... this will become delicate. It was vital that Maddy watch her step. Bernard’s mind was a devilishly well-polished trap for any inconsistence of story, or hiccup of logic - or outright lie, of course. Forty years as an attorney makes for exquisite polish. Bernard had a sort of intimidated respect for Maddy, and so was quick to assist her whenever he was able, but Maddy knew for a fact that the man’s perceptiveness would not be overruled by his obliging nature.
If only the polish had gone the way of the courtroom attire. Maddy thought, but grimaced and shook the silly thought away. Concentration. That was the name of the game, now. She had formed a general plan of attack while making breakfast, then mentally smoothed and folded and unfolded it on the drive over. Now was the time to steel herself, and execute.
“Cookies, Maddy?” Bernard shouted. Maddy tensed at the sound, then relaxed, and frowned; her head had lately become more and more unruly. More given to drifting.
If you act that way while talking, he'll sniff you out in a heartbeat. Sharpen up. Maddy thought, trying to bully herself into attentiveness. The warm weather was to blame, she decided.
“Maddy?” He sounded muffled, like he was wading chin-deep through boxes. “I said, would you like some cookies, as well?”
“Please.”
“What’sat?”
“Ah, yes, please!”
The man reappeared soon after, saddled with a crowded tea tray and chortling warmly. “No need to shout, you know!”
Maddy grinned at the joke.
Once the tea and surprisingly nice cookies - macadamia, Maddy noted, pleased - had been properly fretted over by the host, Bernard again settled into himself. The difference in presence, compared to what he had greeted Maddy and Theresa with, was striking.
“Wonderful! Well then, young Maddy.” Bernard swept his knuckly hand grandly, giving her the floor. “If you feel so inclined.”
That would have been nice. Regardless, Maddy bit the bullet. “It’s not very cut-and-dry, sad to say. Along the lines of the usual. Last month, you lent us that -- to put over the hearth, you said --”
“Horseshoe, yes.” His hands were again rolling and folding over one another. “Very good to set up, in structures with rebellious natures. Only manmade ones, however. Hauntings and the like. I've read, in my leisure, that they fixate upon it, for some reason - the shape, I think. The curve appeals to them, as it's not exactly common to see in buildings."
If he hadn't been up to snuff as an attorney, Maddy thought, he would've made a very fine professor.
" - and so once they've done that, if you flip the little thing around, well!" He gave a bubbly chuckle before biting into a cookie. "I imagine it's a bit like what we feel, when playing Pin-the-Tail-on-the-Donkey. Blinded and spun!"
Bernard continued chuckling for a moment, appreciating his clever analogy, before catching himself up to the discussion on-hand. He frowned. "But it sounds like that's no help to you?"
“Oh, no, it helps," Maddy said quickly, placing her cup down. The tea was a bit strong. “It certainly helps. But it seems that - most the time - I have to pair it with a little something else, at least if I want to get anywhere.”
“Something else?”
“Just, you know...” She waved vaguely, casting about for a typical homeowner's response. Whatever that might be. Bernard’s eyes widened as they fixed upon Maddy's hand, and she hesitated before going on. “Bargaining, bullying...”
“... bludgeoning?” Bernard smirked. Maddy was jarred before realizing that her knuckles were a parkinglot oilspill of bruises.
The man guffawed, loudly and good-naturedly, at the sheepish look on the face of his guest. Between the laughter and the wide, appreciative smirk, the skin of his face threatened to split over his broad skull. “You told me, back the other time, that it’s - what was it you said.. a wonderful opportunity to test your patience, Maddy? What happened there?”
“Yes... well.” Maddy toyed with the rim of her teacup, a rueful smile creeping up her chin. “No one passes every test.”
"Too true, too true." Bernard agreed, relenting. His mirth had dried up into contented humming. “Though, it’s always been... challenging, for a house, hasn’t it? You say you inherited it?”
“Mmm, yes. My great great uncle was an architect. Designed it himself.”
“Is that right!" The man grinned. "And how did your great great aunt feel about that?”
Maddy raised an eyebrow in mock disdain, but a twitch of the lips gave her away. “He meant well, you know. Saw it as a sort of... security effort, I think. A lock's only useful 'til it's broken, was his logic." Which was very true, very sound logic. But his solution seemed grossly lacking in such. "Said he was going to sell the idea to a dying pharaoh, one day - set himself up for life.”
“Then, does it work? Is it effective?”
“There's no telling. We've never needed it.” Maddy paused with a cookie halfway to her mouth. “Which might be a 'yes'? Now that I think of it, we don’t go down to the cellar often - it may be a good idea to check for skeletons --”
Bernard spluttered tea on himself.
“Overall security, though, is not the issue. At least not really. I'd like to find a way to keep the house fixed to a certain layout, until its shifting around would actually be to our benefit." She took another sip of tea, to cover her held breath. Breach it easy. Steady. "Though possibly, it's useless to begin with... We’ve been getting pests, lately, in and out...
Bernard's mouth twisted in squeamish sympathy. “Pests?”
“Yes, you know. Rats.”
“Rats again?”
“Rats do seem to love us. The masochists." Maddy grimaced, apparently irritated at the thought. In realty a bit of macadamia had lodged between two of her molars. "And a raccoon in the attic, I think. I heard it cackling the other night.”
“Hmmm." The rolling and folding of Bernard's hands slowed. His lips pursed. "So you’re looking to discipline the house, while at the same time improve security.”
“Something like that, yes.” Maddy adopted a lazy pace in sugaring her second cup of tea. All the while, she watched Bernard from the edge of her vision; his change in behavior, this sudden deliberateness, gave her a tickle of unease. “'Insulation' might be the better word.”
He said nothing. Again, Bernard began to scrub his stubble.
Humid, viscous instinct suddenly flared to life in Maddy's stomach, and screamed run! seconds before the entire atmosphere of the room shifted.
Bernard's voice was level when he asked "What happened to your arm, Madeline?" but his face was running full-mast with alarm and whirling thought. Maddy had missed a spot, covering her pink skin with makeup.
Cheap snake oil. Maddy seethed at herself. "Bernard, you --"
He exploded out of his chair, spine straightening boldly but retreating backwards from the sofa. "No rat did that to you, Madeline! What i--"
There was a spasm of sound as the teatray was rattled and Maddy appeared directly in front of Bernard, hand clapped over his mouth and face silently furious.
"Be quiet."
The two froze. For the most part, at least; Bernard's chest was gradually picking up speed in its swelling and falling, panic eating away at his lungs. Having his mouth forced shut was unlikely to be helpful.
Maddy could care less at the moment. She was straining her ears and staring hard at nothing. You're somewhere upstairs, aren't you, sunshine? You didn't hear all that. You're not sitting in the hall. Right, sweetie?
Sandpaper moments grated past, one after another. Then a rumble of feet and a glimmer of laughter came floating down from the ceiling, and Maddy nearly sagged with relief.
But there was absolutely no time for that. Maddy had a very intelligent, very alarmed man to deal with for now. She had gambled, and she had lost, and now she had to explain. The question in his eyes - How's Theresa involved in this? - was the most twisting one he could have possibly asked. It was also the only one that really mattered. Maddy's mouth felt sour.
She kept Bernard muffled, for the moment, and began.
"Theresa... Theresa is very good at finding things. You know this, already." Bernard was glaring searchingly, waiting for Maddy to go on, or for the information to pool together with something else in his mind. Satisfied that the man would listen, Maddy removed her hand. "Last night, when she was asleep, I think she found something by accident."
"Something dan--"
"You keep your voice down."
"... something dangerous, clearly." Bernard licked his lips, shooting another jittery glance at the newly-healed skin. Then licked his lips again. "And if - whatever it was, this rat of yours - if it had gotten loose in the town?"
Maddy looked at him squarely, levelly, stonily. She might have been carved out of raw confidence. But her voice had dropped when she said "That wouldn't have happened, Bernard."
“It’s...!" He muffled himself and took several slow, soothing breaths, through his nose. He paced away from Maddy and brought his bony hands to his temples. “You’re letting things in, and...!”
"This situation will correct itself, Bernard." Maddy fought the urge to step closer to him. He just might have bolted, then. "She's come into herself younger than most do, usually, but it's not unheard of. It's not dangerous. I will get her a tutor, very soon. It will be fine, Bernard."
"Fine," he laughed, quietly but harshly. "'Fine,' she says. The chewtoy says."
"Bernard --"
"It was fine this time. Luck could account for that," he nearly sneered. Then turned abruptly pleading. "Maddy, surely you can see this is absurd. Even you can't fight off everything, and if she... if she were to find something worse--"
"I only need something temporary, Bernard," she barreled over him. "Anything temporary. Just insulation. Just until I can find her a fitting tutor."
“This... this is a community, Madeline. A safe, healthy community. You’ve your biases and I’ve mine, but none should come into play when it’s time for safety." He licked his lips anxiously, eyeing her. "Do you understand? When it's time for... for separating the wheat from the chaff, as it were --"
“‘Separating the wheat from the chaff’ applies to wheat - and - chaff.” Maddy’s eyes had never been what one would call kind, but as she spoke they frothed over with a vulpine gleam. Shrewd voracity leered out from them like animals from caves. “Not. People.”
He heaved a weary sigh, and looked at her pityingly. His face was unreadable to her, at first. Then instinct - that clever old friend - squirmed warningly inside of Maddy, and realization came thundering down like a bombshell freighttrain, and her face brightened with acute horror.
"Maddy..."
"Don't you put it into words." Her voice was a cold sizzle. "Don't you put it in the open air, not while I'm breathing it."
"There are safer places for her, M --"
Bernard was cut off by his own yelp, staggering backwards against the wall. Maddy had lunged, and though her hands were limp and harmless, they were collaring Bernard's neck.
"I am not sending my child away, Bernard." A simple fact. Deadly soft, and simple. "Nor will anyone take her from me."
She looked hard at him, but Bernard said nothing. Fear and anger but also pity and remorse looked back at Maddy.
"Nor will you say a word of this. To anyone - anyone - who might arrange for such."
Maddy felt no joy in threatening people. Certainly not against a friendly man like Bernard. But at the moment, she would not have thought twice about holding a knife to the world's throat.
Her hands relaxed further and slid outwards, slowly. They settled on Bernard's shoulders.
"... do you understand?"
He said nothing, only continued to eye Maddy closely. She felt the urge to apologize - for nearly knocking over his teatray, at the least - but refused to risk undermining herself. Risk cheapening her conviction from mere seconds ago. Then, she would have to threaten him all over.
"I have nothing that would help you, Maddy." Bernard's voice was hoarse, when he finally spoke, and was that a trace of regret? "But I won't go to the authorities, either."
There - that was twice, today, that she had nearly sagged in relief.
"... but if I feel this town is in danger, Madeline..."
Her attention snapped back. She thought for a moment, and then nodded. It was as fair a compromise as she could hope for.
"Can you point me in the right direction, then. A tutor for her."
"I can't." He brought his huge fossil hands upwards and removed her from his shoulders. "Good luck, Maddy." Then, with little ceremony, he turned and tottered stiffly towards his kitchen. She took this as her dismissal.
After a moment, Maddy had gathered herself enough to call her daughter down, and lead her back outside. The last thing she wanted form the day was Theresa to see or smell someone with alcohol, even if they managed only to spill it on themselves from shaking so badly.
(( I really like the word "macadamia." Apparently.
Also, what the hell is the thing with the rats, man
Also DON'T MATCH 2800 WORDS OH MY GOD WHY DID I TYPE THAT MUCH ))
Saturday, June 26, 2010
Wait, shouldn't House be capitalized too?
After eating, Theresa disappeared from the kitchen while Maddy cleaned up. When the girl reappeared, she was dressed in a blouse and corduroy skirt and dragging her school satchel behind her.
“There are things in my room,” Theresa stated, flopping down onto a kitchen chair.
Maddy smiled tightly. “What sort of things, sweetie?”
Theresa shrugged and traced the dark woody loops of the table top with her fingers. “Just some junk. And the, um. Ax?”
“Yes dear,” Maddy confirmed and turned back to drying dishes. When she finished up with the last plate, she turned back around to see her daughter staring pointedly at her. Theresa preferred to wait for knowledge to come to her rather than asking too many questions, but the events of the night had obviously brought out her more quizzical side. Maddy could almost see the questions forming in her daughters mouth. The sight made her giggle. Theresa pouted.
Maddy grinned and set about putting now clean dishes back in their places, praying they’d stay there. “The house probably just dumped some stuff from the attic in your room. You know how it is.”
There was a pause and then Theresa said, “I should leave soon.”
“Oh, baby,” Maddy said, sitting across the table from her. “I don’t think you should go to school today. You had a rough night.”
Theresa shrugged. “Okay. Can I have another glass of orange juice, then?” She had never been that fond of school anyway.
“After I’d just cleaned up!” Maddy scolded good naturedly and went about finding the glasses all over again.
Maddy left Theresa doodling in one of her father’s old sketch books and took a proper shower. Her hair was almost completely flat now, so she swept it back in a simple knot at the base of her neck. She slipped into a faded blue dress, hoping the color would help tone-down her pinkish skin. Everything she tried with her meager supply of make up seemed to make her questionable complexion worse, and the house seemed to have misplaced her jewelry box again, so she returned to the kitchen with a naked neck and a tick in her eye.
“Hey sunshine,” she greeted, smoothing Theresa’s hair with her fingers. She peeked over the girl’s shoulder at her drawing. It was what Theresa always drew– a smiling sun, a family of rabbits, some flowers with uneven petals, and a tree with a little owl in it. Theresa’s brow furrowed with concentration as she sketched out individual feathers in the open wings. “Another one for the refrigerator?” Maddy asked.
“No,” answered Theresa. “It’s in the upstairs bathroom.”
“Hm?” said Maddy.
“The refrigerator,” Theresa explained, starting on a friend for the owl.
“What?” Maddy whirled around to stare at the empty corner the refrigerator had once occupied. The Ax sat unassumingly on the slightly discolored patch of floor.
“THAT. IS NOT. FUNNY,” Maddy screeched, aiming several well-meaning kicks at the wall. The house groaned around them, and Theresa continued working on the second owl, nonplussed.
“Theresa, sweetie,” Maddy asked sweetly, although glaring like a tiger with a toothache at the wall. “Where is the refrigerator now?”
Theresa blinked up at her. “Still in the bathroom. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, sunshine.” Maddy leaned over and patted the countertop in what she hoped was a friendly way. Damaging the house wouldn’t help. “I’m just going to put the Ax away, and we’ll see where the refrigerator is then.” She stroked the countertop. “Isn’t that right?”
Ignoring the giggles from her daughter, Maddy hefted the Ax over her shoulder and carried it into the closet where a linen closet usually was. It was in place, and she dropped the Ax onto an empty shelf. “And see that you stay there,” she hissed. Closing the closet back up, she spied Theresa’s room down the hall. Sauntering over to it, she reached up and flipped the horseshoe hanging above it.
“How do you like that, hm?” she said to it. Nothing happened, but when she returned to the kitchen, the refrigerator was back in place.
The thing that bothered Maddy most about the house was that one could never actually see it moving and shifting about. It felt a bit like she was going mad, even though she knew that was part of the house’s charm. She wasn’t sure if the house simply couldn’t move if it were being watched or if it was somehow doing this on purpose.
“Sweetheart, I need you to come with me to run some errands, okay?” Maddy said, checking around the refrigerator to make sure it was in working order. “Go put your stuff away and I’ll go warm up the car.”
Theresa gathered up her drawing supplies and wandered out of the kitchen without more than a nod of consent. Maddy opened the refrigerator door. Behind an unopened bottle of salad dressing, the Ax glinted up at her. She slammed the door and put a lot of self-constraint into not screaming.
In the car, Theresa rolled down her window and peered out at the little town, her dark hair whipping around her face. Most of the houses were the same: narrow and pointy with steep roofs and deep porches. They sat right up on the edge of the road, or the side walk if you lived on a wealthier street, but most had decently sided backyards with ancient trees looming over the houses. There was almost no traffic.
Maddy drove through downtown without stopping. It was only a few blocks long, with stops and restaurants and government buildings all packed together and people on sidewalks waving at each other and birds squeaking at each other on power lines. It was when they were starting into the dingier side of town that Theresa observed, “We’re going to see the man with all the cats.”
Maddy chuckled. “They’re not cats.”
“But we’re going to see him, right?”
“Yes, sunshine, about the house.”
“What’s wrong with the house?”
Maddy tightened her grip on the steering wheel. “It’s… it’s mischievous. It misplaces things on purpose.”
Theresa cocked her head. “I thought you just lost things a lot.”
Maddy wanted to laugh and smack her head against the dashboard all at the same time. Instead, she glanced over at Theresa for a moment and smiled. “Remember how you couldn’t find your room this morning, sunshine?”
“Oh.” Theresa turned back to her window. As they moved further from downtown, the houses became further apart and set further back from the road. They also became boxier and less well kept. Maddy stopped the car in front of a particularly rundown one and pulled right into the front yard, which was mostly packed dirt anyway.
Maddy stepped out of the car and observed the house. It had once been painted light yellow, but the sun had baked most of the paint off, and what was left looked grimy. Only one shutter was left on any of the visible windows, and it was crooked. A hole in the roof was covered with a black tarp.
“Kitty!” Theresa chirped and bent down to gather something furry up into her arms.
Maddy shook her head. “I told you, sweetie, it’s not a cat.”
Resting a hand on Theresa’s shoulder, Maddy led her up to the front door and knocked. Theresa cradled and poked at the thing in her arms until a man answered the door.
(The best thing about this is that I don't actually have to know what I'm talking about because someone else is stuck with the next part!)
“There are things in my room,” Theresa stated, flopping down onto a kitchen chair.
Maddy smiled tightly. “What sort of things, sweetie?”
Theresa shrugged and traced the dark woody loops of the table top with her fingers. “Just some junk. And the, um. Ax?”
“Yes dear,” Maddy confirmed and turned back to drying dishes. When she finished up with the last plate, she turned back around to see her daughter staring pointedly at her. Theresa preferred to wait for knowledge to come to her rather than asking too many questions, but the events of the night had obviously brought out her more quizzical side. Maddy could almost see the questions forming in her daughters mouth. The sight made her giggle. Theresa pouted.
Maddy grinned and set about putting now clean dishes back in their places, praying they’d stay there. “The house probably just dumped some stuff from the attic in your room. You know how it is.”
There was a pause and then Theresa said, “I should leave soon.”
“Oh, baby,” Maddy said, sitting across the table from her. “I don’t think you should go to school today. You had a rough night.”
Theresa shrugged. “Okay. Can I have another glass of orange juice, then?” She had never been that fond of school anyway.
“After I’d just cleaned up!” Maddy scolded good naturedly and went about finding the glasses all over again.
Maddy left Theresa doodling in one of her father’s old sketch books and took a proper shower. Her hair was almost completely flat now, so she swept it back in a simple knot at the base of her neck. She slipped into a faded blue dress, hoping the color would help tone-down her pinkish skin. Everything she tried with her meager supply of make up seemed to make her questionable complexion worse, and the house seemed to have misplaced her jewelry box again, so she returned to the kitchen with a naked neck and a tick in her eye.
“Hey sunshine,” she greeted, smoothing Theresa’s hair with her fingers. She peeked over the girl’s shoulder at her drawing. It was what Theresa always drew– a smiling sun, a family of rabbits, some flowers with uneven petals, and a tree with a little owl in it. Theresa’s brow furrowed with concentration as she sketched out individual feathers in the open wings. “Another one for the refrigerator?” Maddy asked.
“No,” answered Theresa. “It’s in the upstairs bathroom.”
“Hm?” said Maddy.
“The refrigerator,” Theresa explained, starting on a friend for the owl.
“What?” Maddy whirled around to stare at the empty corner the refrigerator had once occupied. The Ax sat unassumingly on the slightly discolored patch of floor.
“THAT. IS NOT. FUNNY,” Maddy screeched, aiming several well-meaning kicks at the wall. The house groaned around them, and Theresa continued working on the second owl, nonplussed.
“Theresa, sweetie,” Maddy asked sweetly, although glaring like a tiger with a toothache at the wall. “Where is the refrigerator now?”
Theresa blinked up at her. “Still in the bathroom. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, sunshine.” Maddy leaned over and patted the countertop in what she hoped was a friendly way. Damaging the house wouldn’t help. “I’m just going to put the Ax away, and we’ll see where the refrigerator is then.” She stroked the countertop. “Isn’t that right?”
Ignoring the giggles from her daughter, Maddy hefted the Ax over her shoulder and carried it into the closet where a linen closet usually was. It was in place, and she dropped the Ax onto an empty shelf. “And see that you stay there,” she hissed. Closing the closet back up, she spied Theresa’s room down the hall. Sauntering over to it, she reached up and flipped the horseshoe hanging above it.
“How do you like that, hm?” she said to it. Nothing happened, but when she returned to the kitchen, the refrigerator was back in place.
The thing that bothered Maddy most about the house was that one could never actually see it moving and shifting about. It felt a bit like she was going mad, even though she knew that was part of the house’s charm. She wasn’t sure if the house simply couldn’t move if it were being watched or if it was somehow doing this on purpose.
“Sweetheart, I need you to come with me to run some errands, okay?” Maddy said, checking around the refrigerator to make sure it was in working order. “Go put your stuff away and I’ll go warm up the car.”
Theresa gathered up her drawing supplies and wandered out of the kitchen without more than a nod of consent. Maddy opened the refrigerator door. Behind an unopened bottle of salad dressing, the Ax glinted up at her. She slammed the door and put a lot of self-constraint into not screaming.
In the car, Theresa rolled down her window and peered out at the little town, her dark hair whipping around her face. Most of the houses were the same: narrow and pointy with steep roofs and deep porches. They sat right up on the edge of the road, or the side walk if you lived on a wealthier street, but most had decently sided backyards with ancient trees looming over the houses. There was almost no traffic.
Maddy drove through downtown without stopping. It was only a few blocks long, with stops and restaurants and government buildings all packed together and people on sidewalks waving at each other and birds squeaking at each other on power lines. It was when they were starting into the dingier side of town that Theresa observed, “We’re going to see the man with all the cats.”
Maddy chuckled. “They’re not cats.”
“But we’re going to see him, right?”
“Yes, sunshine, about the house.”
“What’s wrong with the house?”
Maddy tightened her grip on the steering wheel. “It’s… it’s mischievous. It misplaces things on purpose.”
Theresa cocked her head. “I thought you just lost things a lot.”
Maddy wanted to laugh and smack her head against the dashboard all at the same time. Instead, she glanced over at Theresa for a moment and smiled. “Remember how you couldn’t find your room this morning, sunshine?”
“Oh.” Theresa turned back to her window. As they moved further from downtown, the houses became further apart and set further back from the road. They also became boxier and less well kept. Maddy stopped the car in front of a particularly rundown one and pulled right into the front yard, which was mostly packed dirt anyway.
Maddy stepped out of the car and observed the house. It had once been painted light yellow, but the sun had baked most of the paint off, and what was left looked grimy. Only one shutter was left on any of the visible windows, and it was crooked. A hole in the roof was covered with a black tarp.
“Kitty!” Theresa chirped and bent down to gather something furry up into her arms.
Maddy shook her head. “I told you, sweetie, it’s not a cat.”
Resting a hand on Theresa’s shoulder, Maddy led her up to the front door and knocked. Theresa cradled and poked at the thing in her arms until a man answered the door.
(The best thing about this is that I don't actually have to know what I'm talking about because someone else is stuck with the next part!)
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
Wherein more Things are inexplicably Capitalized
There was, of course, no response.
Maddy felt a great deal more at her ease than she had earlier, and because of this felt more given to reasoning with the house rather than beating it with her bare fists. Though both methods proved effective, she preferred the one that kept her hands in working order. And so her easier mood was doubly useful.
Maddy sighed, theatrically.
“Well, if you don’t mind a corpse sitting around - crumbling away, smelling you up like barnyard - then I suppose we can manage just fine, too.”
She closed the door again. And waited a moment or two. And then twisted the knob and nudged it open and tried not to smile when she found herself in Theresa’s room.
Keeping a straight face was not too tall an order once Maddy remembered the body, however. Her lips twitched in anger, and in disgust, but also simple exasperation. It was such an ugly thing. And so unneededly big. The manticore made an exceptionally tragic centerpiece for her daughter's room. She had to confess that she preferred its current look to its livelier one, however, if by only a slim margin.
Maddy came forward, confidently, sharp-footed to avoid the broken mirror, and crouched down on her heels just short of the hulking body. To gloat.
“Crawl into my daughter’s head... hm?”
It really was quite ugly. Very clearly powerful, and keen, and perhaps appealing in the way that giddiness from deadly heights can be, but hideous. Maddy had seen a gnarled rainbow spectrum of ugliness. And though the manticore was far from settling on the rottenest end, it was no treat to see or think about, either.
“See where it’s gotten you, now. And what for? Hm?”
And however much Maddy enjoyed indulging in the idle rhetoric of the victor, her line of questions was a solid one. A sharp and thin and hardy one. One that stung, like pianowire. She had been half-asking and then half-ignoring herself in between moments, since that night, since seeing the frittered cuffs of her daughter’s pajamas.
Nothing specific - just blunt and uneasy questions. They hung heavy and dead in a cold, meatlocker part of her. The exact how of this all would be difficult to find, certainly. But the why was nothing short of troubling. There were easier meals, she thought. There had to have been. Why such effort? There had to have been easier meals. Much easier, much quicker meals.
Less tasty meals? Maddy sat quiet at that. It was a terrible thought, but mercifully unlikely. Her little girl was very Talented but so were children, right here in-town even, and there was no wyrm or Wendigo or Sirens dragging them from their beds.
What if it had been Theresa, herself? Stumbling across something, and bringing it along for the ride by mistake?
After long minutes of this Maddy grit her teeth decided to get to work. Sitting and stewing in herself this way, sulking - it did no good. One thing at a time, and that one thing at the moment was cleaning.
“For what it’s worth, I don’t like that you came here to die, either.” Maddy propped an elbow on her knee and cupped her palm against her cheek. “My daughter needs her sleep. And the mirror and the dresser will take fixing.”
Still drifting in thought, she scraped a distracted thumbnail along the butt of the Ax. There was not a trace of gore nor drop of blood along the entirety of the blade, despite Maddy’s negligence in cleaning it.
“I suppose I could toss you in the garden.” Her face was pensive as she weighed the option aloud. “Rain’s been lean. And those heirloom tomatoes are very particular, I can’t have them taking to wilt.”
There was the curious state of the manticore’s innards to consider - namely, that they were identical to those of a pawn shop - but Maddy could find a way around that. Surely most of the body would prove suitable. The flesh was still flesh, and would break down like any such. She began to shift her weight to stand.
Then remembered the tail. Maddy groaned, and sat back again.
“Oh, you big lunk. Venom did you no favor when you were living, now, did it?” She gave an impatient puff through her nose. “It’s not doing me any with you dead.”
It was fitting, Maddy had to admit. But she was still allowed to be a little sullen for the moment.
I’d likely have to clean up the blood by hand, then, anyway. Even in lopping off the tail and using the rest, there was no guarantee that it was clean of venom. Too much risk seeing as I could just use compost.
Decided, Maddy rose, making a face at the bottlecap popping of her knees.
It was always a good idea to make absolutely certain that a mess was absolutely dead before it was Cleaned, but that typically involved the sticky picnic of decapitation, and Maddy had only just gotten out of the bath. Besides, the body had long stopped bleeding. Somewhere between the chess piece and the mangled blender she must have pulled out the thing’s heart, or whatever had been filling the role.
“Well, then.”
The woman cleared her throat and hefted the handle, pausing to savor the sudden arc of anticipation that jangled her nerves like weddingbells and the thrum of tension that coiled like a spoiled cat inside the heartshaped bowl of her hips, only to let the Ax fall with a very unsatisfying thuk into the thing’s spine. Maddy did her best to not look disappointed. Instead, she arched to stretch her back, chidingly reminding herself that she was no longer young enough to hunker down like a leapfrog. “Go on, get to it.”
There was nothing for a long moment. Then slowly, almost shyly, little dollops and smears of blood began to pull away from the room. From the walls, from the bed, from the ceiling, from the chewedup butchersmock drapes. The dried crusts melted back into warm liquid that they were familiar with being and pulled and slid and dripped down and away like rain on a window, and puddled together on the hardwood floor, and then trickled along the grooves of the boards towards the corpse.
Maddy nodded, satisfied, and turned to leave the room.
“It’d benefit you to put the Ax back somewhere, when It’s done, that’s easy at-hand.” Had the floorboards changed? They had been cedar, as Maddy recalled, squinting down at her feet. They now appeared to be redwood. It was a rather pleasant change. “Think if another such nasty thing scurried in here and I couldn’t find It - you’d be smashed to firewood, and with no more charming mistress to tidy you up. Hm?”
She paused with her hand on the doorknob, as if waiting patiently for a response, but there was none other than the drag and slither of dead blood and skin. Which was precisely what Maddy had hoped to hear.
The door clicked behind her and she sighed, back in the hallway. It was much brighter out. How long had she spent woolgathering over the corpse?
It’s probably about six, by now. She frowned. Time seemed to be sneaking up on her lately. She decided to start on breakfast, and eased past the guest bedroom where her daughter was still asleep.
And it was precisely at that moment that a riot and pots and pans fell from the kitchen cupboard, and Theresa hissed “Jeeez!” as quietly as she could. Maddy was surprised for a split moment, but then laughed silently and stole towards the kitchen.
The fondness that Theresa held for cinnamon toast was a bewildering one. There were days that she begged Maddy to prepare it for lunch and dinner, even, and after a few weeks of mostly porridge, she now seemed intent upon trying her own hand. There were only about half of the correct ingredients on the counter and none of the correct utensils.
Maddy crossed her arms and propped herself against the doorway.
“Goodness. They warned me about gremlin-proofing the kitchen, but I paid not a bit of mind.”
At the sound of her mother’s voice Theresa twisted around, innocently, and cut loose the most winning smile in her rather limited arsenal: a full-bodied one, that involved pushing upwards on her toes and sticking out her chin as if those few additional inches of height were all that made her visible. “I’m too cute to be a gremlin.”
Maddy had to agree. Somber as she may have seemed to strangers, Theresa was quite a chipper girl. And it was good to see her acting that way again, acting like Theresa, rather than the scared little thing that had crawled into Maddy’s lap the night before.
“A very clumsy mouse, then. Who’s usually still asleep around this time. Exactly what do you think you’re doing?
“I woke up in the guestroom, and I was gonna go back to bed, but I couldn’t find my room.” Theresa frowned, looking briefly troubled before shrugging a shoulder. “It was weird. Usually it’s pretty easy.” The note of confusion yanked hard at Maddy, despite the rush of gratitude that she then felt towards her home. “So I decided to make breakfast.”
“Make breakfast?”
“Yes! I wanted cinnamon toast.”
“I see that. And you know how to make it?”
“Um... well, I watched you make it a lot of times. So maybe I would... like... remember piece by piece, as I was going along?”
Maddy said nothing. She simply smiled and raised her eyebrows.
The girl tolerated it for only a moment before scowling. It seemed a much more natural fit than the smile. “Hey dooon’t, you’re giving me the look!”
“What look?” Maddy was grinning now.
“The look where, you know, you’re all ho hum, is that right? even though I, I’ve, you know, I’ve got all the ingredients, all ready and laid out --”
“Except for the bread.”
“-- most of the ingredients, and stuff, and the pan’s all ready to go --”
“That’s a skillet, sunshine.”
Theresa was down but not out. She bit her mouth in desperate thought, looking from the unlit gas stove to Maddy to the too-heavy bag of sugar to Maddy to the pans just beyond her reach, to Maddy. Her lips became a thin line of resignation. The girl then gathered herself and, with all the dignity and sobriety of an overworked undertaker, offered: “Okay. You can help.”
Maddy lost it, then, spluttering a laugh that did nothing to rattle her daughter’s stony expression.
“Sounds swell, baby. You just let me get the pan, turn on the stove, lay out and butter the bread, spread the sugar and the cinnamon, put it in the oven, and take it out when it’s done, and you can do the rest.”
“... but that... isn’t that everything?”
“You get to eat it.” She tousled Theresa's hair on her way to the stove, smiling at the squawk of protest. “Now scram.”
( “Heartshaped bones of her hips” is stolen straight from Tom Waits and I am NOT GIVING IT BACK SO TOM YOU CAN GO SCREW YOUR MAGNIFICENT SELF.)
Maddy felt a great deal more at her ease than she had earlier, and because of this felt more given to reasoning with the house rather than beating it with her bare fists. Though both methods proved effective, she preferred the one that kept her hands in working order. And so her easier mood was doubly useful.
Maddy sighed, theatrically.
“Well, if you don’t mind a corpse sitting around - crumbling away, smelling you up like barnyard - then I suppose we can manage just fine, too.”
She closed the door again. And waited a moment or two. And then twisted the knob and nudged it open and tried not to smile when she found herself in Theresa’s room.
Keeping a straight face was not too tall an order once Maddy remembered the body, however. Her lips twitched in anger, and in disgust, but also simple exasperation. It was such an ugly thing. And so unneededly big. The manticore made an exceptionally tragic centerpiece for her daughter's room. She had to confess that she preferred its current look to its livelier one, however, if by only a slim margin.
Maddy came forward, confidently, sharp-footed to avoid the broken mirror, and crouched down on her heels just short of the hulking body. To gloat.
“Crawl into my daughter’s head... hm?”
It really was quite ugly. Very clearly powerful, and keen, and perhaps appealing in the way that giddiness from deadly heights can be, but hideous. Maddy had seen a gnarled rainbow spectrum of ugliness. And though the manticore was far from settling on the rottenest end, it was no treat to see or think about, either.
“See where it’s gotten you, now. And what for? Hm?”
And however much Maddy enjoyed indulging in the idle rhetoric of the victor, her line of questions was a solid one. A sharp and thin and hardy one. One that stung, like pianowire. She had been half-asking and then half-ignoring herself in between moments, since that night, since seeing the frittered cuffs of her daughter’s pajamas.
Nothing specific - just blunt and uneasy questions. They hung heavy and dead in a cold, meatlocker part of her. The exact how of this all would be difficult to find, certainly. But the why was nothing short of troubling. There were easier meals, she thought. There had to have been. Why such effort? There had to have been easier meals. Much easier, much quicker meals.
Less tasty meals? Maddy sat quiet at that. It was a terrible thought, but mercifully unlikely. Her little girl was very Talented but so were children, right here in-town even, and there was no wyrm or Wendigo or Sirens dragging them from their beds.
What if it had been Theresa, herself? Stumbling across something, and bringing it along for the ride by mistake?
After long minutes of this Maddy grit her teeth decided to get to work. Sitting and stewing in herself this way, sulking - it did no good. One thing at a time, and that one thing at the moment was cleaning.
“For what it’s worth, I don’t like that you came here to die, either.” Maddy propped an elbow on her knee and cupped her palm against her cheek. “My daughter needs her sleep. And the mirror and the dresser will take fixing.”
Still drifting in thought, she scraped a distracted thumbnail along the butt of the Ax. There was not a trace of gore nor drop of blood along the entirety of the blade, despite Maddy’s negligence in cleaning it.
“I suppose I could toss you in the garden.” Her face was pensive as she weighed the option aloud. “Rain’s been lean. And those heirloom tomatoes are very particular, I can’t have them taking to wilt.”
There was the curious state of the manticore’s innards to consider - namely, that they were identical to those of a pawn shop - but Maddy could find a way around that. Surely most of the body would prove suitable. The flesh was still flesh, and would break down like any such. She began to shift her weight to stand.
Then remembered the tail. Maddy groaned, and sat back again.
“Oh, you big lunk. Venom did you no favor when you were living, now, did it?” She gave an impatient puff through her nose. “It’s not doing me any with you dead.”
It was fitting, Maddy had to admit. But she was still allowed to be a little sullen for the moment.
I’d likely have to clean up the blood by hand, then, anyway. Even in lopping off the tail and using the rest, there was no guarantee that it was clean of venom. Too much risk seeing as I could just use compost.
Decided, Maddy rose, making a face at the bottlecap popping of her knees.
It was always a good idea to make absolutely certain that a mess was absolutely dead before it was Cleaned, but that typically involved the sticky picnic of decapitation, and Maddy had only just gotten out of the bath. Besides, the body had long stopped bleeding. Somewhere between the chess piece and the mangled blender she must have pulled out the thing’s heart, or whatever had been filling the role.
“Well, then.”
The woman cleared her throat and hefted the handle, pausing to savor the sudden arc of anticipation that jangled her nerves like weddingbells and the thrum of tension that coiled like a spoiled cat inside the heartshaped bowl of her hips, only to let the Ax fall with a very unsatisfying thuk into the thing’s spine. Maddy did her best to not look disappointed. Instead, she arched to stretch her back, chidingly reminding herself that she was no longer young enough to hunker down like a leapfrog. “Go on, get to it.”
There was nothing for a long moment. Then slowly, almost shyly, little dollops and smears of blood began to pull away from the room. From the walls, from the bed, from the ceiling, from the chewedup butchersmock drapes. The dried crusts melted back into warm liquid that they were familiar with being and pulled and slid and dripped down and away like rain on a window, and puddled together on the hardwood floor, and then trickled along the grooves of the boards towards the corpse.
Maddy nodded, satisfied, and turned to leave the room.
“It’d benefit you to put the Ax back somewhere, when It’s done, that’s easy at-hand.” Had the floorboards changed? They had been cedar, as Maddy recalled, squinting down at her feet. They now appeared to be redwood. It was a rather pleasant change. “Think if another such nasty thing scurried in here and I couldn’t find It - you’d be smashed to firewood, and with no more charming mistress to tidy you up. Hm?”
She paused with her hand on the doorknob, as if waiting patiently for a response, but there was none other than the drag and slither of dead blood and skin. Which was precisely what Maddy had hoped to hear.
The door clicked behind her and she sighed, back in the hallway. It was much brighter out. How long had she spent woolgathering over the corpse?
It’s probably about six, by now. She frowned. Time seemed to be sneaking up on her lately. She decided to start on breakfast, and eased past the guest bedroom where her daughter was still asleep.
And it was precisely at that moment that a riot and pots and pans fell from the kitchen cupboard, and Theresa hissed “Jeeez!” as quietly as she could. Maddy was surprised for a split moment, but then laughed silently and stole towards the kitchen.
The fondness that Theresa held for cinnamon toast was a bewildering one. There were days that she begged Maddy to prepare it for lunch and dinner, even, and after a few weeks of mostly porridge, she now seemed intent upon trying her own hand. There were only about half of the correct ingredients on the counter and none of the correct utensils.
Maddy crossed her arms and propped herself against the doorway.
“Goodness. They warned me about gremlin-proofing the kitchen, but I paid not a bit of mind.”
At the sound of her mother’s voice Theresa twisted around, innocently, and cut loose the most winning smile in her rather limited arsenal: a full-bodied one, that involved pushing upwards on her toes and sticking out her chin as if those few additional inches of height were all that made her visible. “I’m too cute to be a gremlin.”
Maddy had to agree. Somber as she may have seemed to strangers, Theresa was quite a chipper girl. And it was good to see her acting that way again, acting like Theresa, rather than the scared little thing that had crawled into Maddy’s lap the night before.
“A very clumsy mouse, then. Who’s usually still asleep around this time. Exactly what do you think you’re doing?
“I woke up in the guestroom, and I was gonna go back to bed, but I couldn’t find my room.” Theresa frowned, looking briefly troubled before shrugging a shoulder. “It was weird. Usually it’s pretty easy.” The note of confusion yanked hard at Maddy, despite the rush of gratitude that she then felt towards her home. “So I decided to make breakfast.”
“Make breakfast?”
“Yes! I wanted cinnamon toast.”
“I see that. And you know how to make it?”
“Um... well, I watched you make it a lot of times. So maybe I would... like... remember piece by piece, as I was going along?”
Maddy said nothing. She simply smiled and raised her eyebrows.
The girl tolerated it for only a moment before scowling. It seemed a much more natural fit than the smile. “Hey dooon’t, you’re giving me the look!”
“What look?” Maddy was grinning now.
“The look where, you know, you’re all ho hum, is that right? even though I, I’ve, you know, I’ve got all the ingredients, all ready and laid out --”
“Except for the bread.”
“-- most of the ingredients, and stuff, and the pan’s all ready to go --”
“That’s a skillet, sunshine.”
Theresa was down but not out. She bit her mouth in desperate thought, looking from the unlit gas stove to Maddy to the too-heavy bag of sugar to Maddy to the pans just beyond her reach, to Maddy. Her lips became a thin line of resignation. The girl then gathered herself and, with all the dignity and sobriety of an overworked undertaker, offered: “Okay. You can help.”
Maddy lost it, then, spluttering a laugh that did nothing to rattle her daughter’s stony expression.
“Sounds swell, baby. You just let me get the pan, turn on the stove, lay out and butter the bread, spread the sugar and the cinnamon, put it in the oven, and take it out when it’s done, and you can do the rest.”
“... but that... isn’t that everything?”
“You get to eat it.” She tousled Theresa's hair on her way to the stove, smiling at the squawk of protest. “Now scram.”
( “Heartshaped bones of her hips” is stolen straight from Tom Waits and I am NOT GIVING IT BACK SO TOM YOU CAN GO SCREW YOUR MAGNIFICENT SELF.)
Monday, June 21, 2010
Because Kylie's a Prat
(updated with the end + changed a little of the beginning bit)
Maddy soaked for a bit longer, listening for signs of Theresa’s unrest. The house was still for once, probably as a result of the beating she’d given it, and there was no sound of a restless little girl. And just when Maddy began to think she’d healed all she could for the night, a bell rang somewhere deeper in the house.
Maddy silently cursed the house for leaving the doorbell of all things in place and gripped the sides of the tub with her now pink and tender hands. Grunting, she heaved herself out of the tub and fumbled for her bathrobe, which she habitually left hanging on a hook that liked to rotate from the back of the bathroom door (where it was now) to the wall next to the sink.
The scratchy fabric on her new baby flesh made her wince. The doorbell rang again. Huffing, she shuffled out of the bathroom, passed through the parlor room with a smile at the curled up lump of quilt and Theresa on her chair, and out into the antechamber, softly closing the parlor door behind her.
The wide window in the front door was made out of old glass that blurred the world outside, but even so Maddy could tell the person insistently ringing was the man who lived next door, Mr. Lombard. No one else would dare wear such a gaudy shade of violet.
Maddy undid the chain and unlocked the door, opening it a jar to peer outside. It wasn’t quite dawn yet, but the horizon was a deep blue that suggested the sun was considering raising any moment now, and that provided just enough light to make out the scowl on the elderly man’s face.
“Hello, Stan,” Maddy greeted, and he boggled at her. It occurred to Maddy that she was most likely still a delightful shade of salmon pink and she had never bothered to fix her hair.
Mr. Lombard got over himself quickly and snapped, “What on earth happened?”
“Oh, you know,” Maddy said pleasantly with a strained smile. “The house has been acting up again. I’ll call someone soon.”
Mr. Lombard tapped his foot with its fancy black shoes and sneered. “Then what was all that screaming and smashing about? You people are so inconsiderate.”
Maddy bit her lip. “Stan, I apologize, but–”
“Just because you can’t control your child– don’t look at me like that, I heard the kid screaming! If you can’t handle a simple temper tantrum, either get a nanny who can or get out of this neighborhood and that god forsaken house.”
Maddy narrowed her eyes, straightened her back, and made a point of peering down at the age-shrunken man. “Theresa is wonderfully well-mannered, thank you very much,” she said tightly. “And I would ask you to keep your nose out of other people’s business.”
Mr. Lombard’s scowl deepened as he backed away, hobbling with his cane with the wooden falcon’s head at the top that made horrendous noises when he crossed intersections at unsafe times, and the porch creaked beneath him. “I try to show some neighborly concern for you, thinking that maybe your child needed help, and you just sniff at me.” He shook his finger at her as if she were a naughty pet. “No manners! No respect for anyone!”
Maddy thought that he must not have been very concerned at all if he had bothered to get dressed and groomed before coming over, and she told him as much.
He fumed back at her, the wrinkled flaps of skin on his neck quivering. “You’re losing it Madeline,” he cautioned. “The flooded attic, a rat infestation, that summer with all the bees– and now this! You’re falling apart, you and that house.”
“Good morning, Stan,” Maddy answered curtly and closed the door. She watched through the blurred window as he stomped across the porch and down the stairs. Rubbing her temples, she turned back to the parlor, easing open the door and accessing the situation.
Theresa had made herself comfortable in the seat of the armchair in a position only a child could sleep in, with her knees pulled up to her chin and her head twisted up so her cheek was pressed against the arm of the chair. The quilt was draped over her and she seemed perfectly content, her eyelids rippling with dreams and little puff noises coming from her parted lips, but Maddy worried about her baby’s neck and back and knees, and so she carefully gathered Theresa up in her arms, quilt and all. She nearly tripped over the nearly empty tea cup Theresa had left on the floor and walked through the door that should have led into the hall, but instead found herself in the study.
Maddy tsked. She really didn’t have time for this. “Can’t you cooperate just this once?” she said to the wall over the little chest of writing supplies.
Crossing the room, she shifted Theresa around a bit in her arms, cooing motherly things, to turn the brass doorknob to the closet door. Opening it, she found a spare bedroom. This would have to do. She had been aiming to take Theresa to Maddy’s own bedroom to sleep, since although (or perhaps because) she only ever pretended to sleep in it, the bed was quite comfortable. But a bed was a bed was not a chair, so she settled the little child down into it, kissing her forehead as she pulling the thin blanket up to her collarbone and piling the quilt on top of that. Chases were that Theresa would kick them off in her sleep soon enough, but Maddy didn’t want to risk her catching a chill.
Maddy stood and watched her child sleep until he sun finally did decide to peek out between neighboring houses and trees and Theresa deftly flipped onto her belly and threw both the blanket and the quilt from herself in one movement. Maddy chuckled quietly to herself and remembered the mess she’d left downstairs (or maybe it was upstairs now too) and quietly excused herself from the room. It was still in the closet of the study, but the study was now where it was supposed to be, and so she made her way back to the bathroom and the Ax without incident.
“A manticore, really,” she scolded nothing in particular as she threw the Ax over her shoulder, ignoring the protests of her too sensitive skin.
“Now, where’s that room got to?”
(BAAALL'S IN YOOUUURRR COOOUUUURRRRRT)
Maddy soaked for a bit longer, listening for signs of Theresa’s unrest. The house was still for once, probably as a result of the beating she’d given it, and there was no sound of a restless little girl. And just when Maddy began to think she’d healed all she could for the night, a bell rang somewhere deeper in the house.
Maddy silently cursed the house for leaving the doorbell of all things in place and gripped the sides of the tub with her now pink and tender hands. Grunting, she heaved herself out of the tub and fumbled for her bathrobe, which she habitually left hanging on a hook that liked to rotate from the back of the bathroom door (where it was now) to the wall next to the sink.
The scratchy fabric on her new baby flesh made her wince. The doorbell rang again. Huffing, she shuffled out of the bathroom, passed through the parlor room with a smile at the curled up lump of quilt and Theresa on her chair, and out into the antechamber, softly closing the parlor door behind her.
The wide window in the front door was made out of old glass that blurred the world outside, but even so Maddy could tell the person insistently ringing was the man who lived next door, Mr. Lombard. No one else would dare wear such a gaudy shade of violet.
Maddy undid the chain and unlocked the door, opening it a jar to peer outside. It wasn’t quite dawn yet, but the horizon was a deep blue that suggested the sun was considering raising any moment now, and that provided just enough light to make out the scowl on the elderly man’s face.
“Hello, Stan,” Maddy greeted, and he boggled at her. It occurred to Maddy that she was most likely still a delightful shade of salmon pink and she had never bothered to fix her hair.
Mr. Lombard got over himself quickly and snapped, “What on earth happened?”
“Oh, you know,” Maddy said pleasantly with a strained smile. “The house has been acting up again. I’ll call someone soon.”
Mr. Lombard tapped his foot with its fancy black shoes and sneered. “Then what was all that screaming and smashing about? You people are so inconsiderate.”
Maddy bit her lip. “Stan, I apologize, but–”
“Just because you can’t control your child– don’t look at me like that, I heard the kid screaming! If you can’t handle a simple temper tantrum, either get a nanny who can or get out of this neighborhood and that god forsaken house.”
Maddy narrowed her eyes, straightened her back, and made a point of peering down at the age-shrunken man. “Theresa is wonderfully well-mannered, thank you very much,” she said tightly. “And I would ask you to keep your nose out of other people’s business.”
Mr. Lombard’s scowl deepened as he backed away, hobbling with his cane with the wooden falcon’s head at the top that made horrendous noises when he crossed intersections at unsafe times, and the porch creaked beneath him. “I try to show some neighborly concern for you, thinking that maybe your child needed help, and you just sniff at me.” He shook his finger at her as if she were a naughty pet. “No manners! No respect for anyone!”
Maddy thought that he must not have been very concerned at all if he had bothered to get dressed and groomed before coming over, and she told him as much.
He fumed back at her, the wrinkled flaps of skin on his neck quivering. “You’re losing it Madeline,” he cautioned. “The flooded attic, a rat infestation, that summer with all the bees– and now this! You’re falling apart, you and that house.”
“Good morning, Stan,” Maddy answered curtly and closed the door. She watched through the blurred window as he stomped across the porch and down the stairs. Rubbing her temples, she turned back to the parlor, easing open the door and accessing the situation.
Theresa had made herself comfortable in the seat of the armchair in a position only a child could sleep in, with her knees pulled up to her chin and her head twisted up so her cheek was pressed against the arm of the chair. The quilt was draped over her and she seemed perfectly content, her eyelids rippling with dreams and little puff noises coming from her parted lips, but Maddy worried about her baby’s neck and back and knees, and so she carefully gathered Theresa up in her arms, quilt and all. She nearly tripped over the nearly empty tea cup Theresa had left on the floor and walked through the door that should have led into the hall, but instead found herself in the study.
Maddy tsked. She really didn’t have time for this. “Can’t you cooperate just this once?” she said to the wall over the little chest of writing supplies.
Crossing the room, she shifted Theresa around a bit in her arms, cooing motherly things, to turn the brass doorknob to the closet door. Opening it, she found a spare bedroom. This would have to do. She had been aiming to take Theresa to Maddy’s own bedroom to sleep, since although (or perhaps because) she only ever pretended to sleep in it, the bed was quite comfortable. But a bed was a bed was not a chair, so she settled the little child down into it, kissing her forehead as she pulling the thin blanket up to her collarbone and piling the quilt on top of that. Chases were that Theresa would kick them off in her sleep soon enough, but Maddy didn’t want to risk her catching a chill.
Maddy stood and watched her child sleep until he sun finally did decide to peek out between neighboring houses and trees and Theresa deftly flipped onto her belly and threw both the blanket and the quilt from herself in one movement. Maddy chuckled quietly to herself and remembered the mess she’d left downstairs (or maybe it was upstairs now too) and quietly excused herself from the room. It was still in the closet of the study, but the study was now where it was supposed to be, and so she made her way back to the bathroom and the Ax without incident.
“A manticore, really,” she scolded nothing in particular as she threw the Ax over her shoulder, ignoring the protests of her too sensitive skin.
“Now, where’s that room got to?”
(BAAALL'S IN YOOUUURRR COOOUUUURRRRRT)
Wherein a purchase is regretted
There was still the dizzy static of adrenaline simmering around in her, but once that died down so would everything else, and so Maddy went about her work quickly. Nausea had began to crawl up her stomach and into her throat and so she yanked open the medicinecabinet and knocked over babyrattle bottles of pills in her search for rubbing alcohol.
Feet were padding towards the hallway.
“Stay in the den, baby." Maddy cringed. She sounded like roadkill.
“Mom? Are you... I think, I think I heard...”
“’m just fine, sunshine.” She tried hard to perk up her voice while wringing the top off of the rubbing alcohol. It worked, some. “So stay in the den for right now, alright?”
There was a dense pause. Then the feet retreated. Maddy inhaled deeply from the bottle, letting the needly fumes poke holes all in and around the swelling of nausea. After a moment, the chair in the den creaked, and Maddy sighed in deep relief as SICK deflated into ill.
Now, then. Before adrenaline pulled the rug out from under her.
“You behave,” she growled acidly at the wall, tugging at the handles of the clawfoot tub. She had hardly any patience for the house on a good day, so it would do well to keep its head down at the moment. How Theresa seemed so easy with it Maddy could hardly wrap her mind around.
Oh, Theresa. Her baby girl. Not a mean bone in her body. What am I gonna do with you now, hm? What does all this mean for you?
Maddy shook the thought away, grim-faced. One thing at a time.
Once the gush was hot and going heavily enough, she began the painstaking process of inspecting damage. It was nothing less than grating. Each nerve seemed to have sprouted a hairtrigger of cruelty, and Maddy was relieved that there was no one present to witness her wincing and cringing at each tug of the ruined nightgown. After long moments of bitten-off hisses and growls that could be heard from just outside the door, Maddy was only Maddy, or at least as Maddy as she could seem at the time. The sight of such an unholy ulcer in the bathroom mirror had her feeling the need for more rubbing alcohol.
“Gracious.”
It was like she had been spat out by a finicky god. Pink chinks of bone were showing on her forehead, her cheek, her clavicles, her arms, her hip, her shins. Shiny syrupy venom had clotted into a leper’s second skin, and Maddy shook her head away from her reflection before she could see more.
“A manticore." She snorted though the working half of her nose. "Good grief.”
It could have been worse, she supposed. The thing could have started asking riddles.
She bent at the waist to tug open the cabinet beneath the sink, ignoring the screeching of her overworked back, only to find empty space.
“You!”
There was the rich, pungent sound of impact: anger and force and flesh on porcelain.
“This is not!" Bang. "The time!” Bang.
When Maddy tore open the cabinet again, its hinges whimpering, the bottles and boxes were back in their familiar lazy zig-zags. She grabbed the nearest one and let the door slam.
“Not an ounce of sense...” she muttered, twisting the cap off and away. The smell of soil and undergrowth and bitter ozone spilled into the room.
“Talk to someone about you later today. Useless thing.”
She tilted the bottle over the bath, and a powdery yellow garter snake slid out and plopped into the water. It threaded around sluggishly for a moment, as if forgetting what it had set out to accomplish, before going belly-up and dissolving.
Maddy made a face. She shuffled the bottle around, to find its label:
GOODALL’S 100% GENUINE RATTLESNAKE LINAMENT
Rheumatism - Blindness - Dismemberment - Arthritis - Possession - Acne - Various Ills
CURE-ALL - HEAL-ALL - GOODALL’S
“Cheap snake oil,” Maddy tutted. She shook her head, put the bottle aside, and minced into the bath.
It stung - not quite from the heat, though there was plenty to go around, but from the simple contact - and her throat rumbled in discomfort. She continued to slide into the bath, lips twitching when the skin of her back was snagged or dragged along, until finally she was swallowed up to her jaw in the strange water.
Maddy sighed. She could feel the oil beginning to work, thankfully, but noted for her next trip to the market that one gets what one pays for.
“Manticore,” she snorted. Then slipped completely underwater.
Theresa had likely bedded herself down, again, in one of the armchairs. She fell asleep easily. Not many of the schoolteachers seemed to appreciate such a talent, but Maddy was more than grateful.
She hooked a thumb into the fresh gash on her left shoulder, and pulled.
Had Maddy laid out the quilt before leaving? She thought she had. She struggled to remember, and cursed when she did. It could get drafty in the den.
The skin of her arm caught at the wrist, but an insistent tug brought it sloughing off into one solid piece. It sat for a moment before rapidly dissolving into nothing.
Surely Theresa knew where the quilt was, though. They had kept it in the same spot for years. At least, Maddy believed so. Maybe?
Her arm was still her arm, but now strange and pink, and too sensitive and too newborn for the heat of the water. Maddy hurried to peel off the rest.
Then again, Theresa may not have bedded down at all. She may have simply nodded off in the chair. And if she had done so while finishing off her mother’s chamomile, it was likely that Maddy would have a puddle of tea to sop up once she was out of the bath.
She scrubbed the back of a hand against her forehead, feeling a patch of too-new skin there, and angled her shin to make it more easily reached. Distantly the grandaddy clock bong bong bong bonged, and Maddy nearly laughed underwater.
That’ll be two messes, for me, ready to clean. And it’s not even today yet.
(AHAAAA. Snake oil! :D ‘Cause that, like, that was a treatment! That people used! And... and it...
It... yeah.)
Feet were padding towards the hallway.
“Stay in the den, baby." Maddy cringed. She sounded like roadkill.
“Mom? Are you... I think, I think I heard...”
“’m just fine, sunshine.” She tried hard to perk up her voice while wringing the top off of the rubbing alcohol. It worked, some. “So stay in the den for right now, alright?”
There was a dense pause. Then the feet retreated. Maddy inhaled deeply from the bottle, letting the needly fumes poke holes all in and around the swelling of nausea. After a moment, the chair in the den creaked, and Maddy sighed in deep relief as SICK deflated into ill.
Now, then. Before adrenaline pulled the rug out from under her.
“You behave,” she growled acidly at the wall, tugging at the handles of the clawfoot tub. She had hardly any patience for the house on a good day, so it would do well to keep its head down at the moment. How Theresa seemed so easy with it Maddy could hardly wrap her mind around.
Oh, Theresa. Her baby girl. Not a mean bone in her body. What am I gonna do with you now, hm? What does all this mean for you?
Maddy shook the thought away, grim-faced. One thing at a time.
Once the gush was hot and going heavily enough, she began the painstaking process of inspecting damage. It was nothing less than grating. Each nerve seemed to have sprouted a hairtrigger of cruelty, and Maddy was relieved that there was no one present to witness her wincing and cringing at each tug of the ruined nightgown. After long moments of bitten-off hisses and growls that could be heard from just outside the door, Maddy was only Maddy, or at least as Maddy as she could seem at the time. The sight of such an unholy ulcer in the bathroom mirror had her feeling the need for more rubbing alcohol.
“Gracious.”
It was like she had been spat out by a finicky god. Pink chinks of bone were showing on her forehead, her cheek, her clavicles, her arms, her hip, her shins. Shiny syrupy venom had clotted into a leper’s second skin, and Maddy shook her head away from her reflection before she could see more.
“A manticore." She snorted though the working half of her nose. "Good grief.”
It could have been worse, she supposed. The thing could have started asking riddles.
She bent at the waist to tug open the cabinet beneath the sink, ignoring the screeching of her overworked back, only to find empty space.
“You!”
There was the rich, pungent sound of impact: anger and force and flesh on porcelain.
“This is not!" Bang. "The time!” Bang.
When Maddy tore open the cabinet again, its hinges whimpering, the bottles and boxes were back in their familiar lazy zig-zags. She grabbed the nearest one and let the door slam.
“Not an ounce of sense...” she muttered, twisting the cap off and away. The smell of soil and undergrowth and bitter ozone spilled into the room.
“Talk to someone about you later today. Useless thing.”
She tilted the bottle over the bath, and a powdery yellow garter snake slid out and plopped into the water. It threaded around sluggishly for a moment, as if forgetting what it had set out to accomplish, before going belly-up and dissolving.
Maddy made a face. She shuffled the bottle around, to find its label:
GOODALL’S 100% GENUINE RATTLESNAKE LINAMENT
Rheumatism - Blindness - Dismemberment - Arthritis - Possession - Acne - Various Ills
CURE-ALL - HEAL-ALL - GOODALL’S
“Cheap snake oil,” Maddy tutted. She shook her head, put the bottle aside, and minced into the bath.
It stung - not quite from the heat, though there was plenty to go around, but from the simple contact - and her throat rumbled in discomfort. She continued to slide into the bath, lips twitching when the skin of her back was snagged or dragged along, until finally she was swallowed up to her jaw in the strange water.
Maddy sighed. She could feel the oil beginning to work, thankfully, but noted for her next trip to the market that one gets what one pays for.
“Manticore,” she snorted. Then slipped completely underwater.
Theresa had likely bedded herself down, again, in one of the armchairs. She fell asleep easily. Not many of the schoolteachers seemed to appreciate such a talent, but Maddy was more than grateful.
She hooked a thumb into the fresh gash on her left shoulder, and pulled.
Had Maddy laid out the quilt before leaving? She thought she had. She struggled to remember, and cursed when she did. It could get drafty in the den.
The skin of her arm caught at the wrist, but an insistent tug brought it sloughing off into one solid piece. It sat for a moment before rapidly dissolving into nothing.
Surely Theresa knew where the quilt was, though. They had kept it in the same spot for years. At least, Maddy believed so. Maybe?
Her arm was still her arm, but now strange and pink, and too sensitive and too newborn for the heat of the water. Maddy hurried to peel off the rest.
Then again, Theresa may not have bedded down at all. She may have simply nodded off in the chair. And if she had done so while finishing off her mother’s chamomile, it was likely that Maddy would have a puddle of tea to sop up once she was out of the bath.
She scrubbed the back of a hand against her forehead, feeling a patch of too-new skin there, and angled her shin to make it more easily reached. Distantly the grandaddy clock bong bong bong bonged, and Maddy nearly laughed underwater.
That’ll be two messes, for me, ready to clean. And it’s not even today yet.
(AHAAAA. Snake oil! :D ‘Cause that, like, that was a treatment! That people used! And... and it...
It... yeah.)
Sunday, June 20, 2010
Baby likes to dance in the DAAAAAARK
Maddy found Theresa’s room at the end of the musty hallway with the rug that never seemed to stay straight. Her right hand was tight around the Ax, her muscles tense all the way up her arm and into her shoulder. The heavy wooden door was closed but not properly, as if Theresa had pulled it behind her as she walked out let go too soon, and a good kick flung it open.
It was balanced on Theresa’s bed, swinging its massive body back and forth as if inclined to pace, but the bed was too small. It noticed Maddy and grinned, showing off a row of razor teeth glistening with spittle, and hint of more teeth behind. It’s face was almost a man’s, but not quite, because there was something off about the chin and jaw, as if it was a distorted caricature and the artist had pulled the corners of the mouth too close to the ears and not bothered to level out the chin. The body was that of a lion’s, sandy red in the moonlight from the open window (the air conditioning had decided not to work that night), with a shaggy mane clinging in tufts to its neck shoulders. The tail was scaly, not quite green but not quite blue, and it’s tip was bloated and covered in tiny spikes.
The thing sat calmly in her daughter’s bed, but it’s draconian tail quivered in anticipation. Maddy’s eyes narrowed and she shifted to grasp the Ax in both hands, keeping it waist-high and aiming it toward the thing. She focused on the tail, not the horrible smile with the teeth and the putrid smell wafting toward her, and the tail, although flicking back and forth, was not leaving the confines of the bed. Theresa must not have given much thought to the rest of the house when she woke up.
Except that she had surely thought of her mother, which is why the thing watched her with the intensity of a cat after a canary as she carefully walked around the room so she stood a yard from the foot of the bed. She held the Ax level between herself and the thing.
She knew it would pounce, and she knew it would disappear when it did, but she still let out a gasp when it suddenly reappeared with its paw on her chest, pushing her down onto the floor. It stared at her for a moment with a single paw on her breast, perhaps puzzled by the rollers in her hair, but she had to act before it realized that even though it could see her, touch her, feel her, she was not what it was looking for.
Both hands were still on the Ax, but right now it was useless, and so she brought one knee up to collide with the thing’s unprotected belly. It roared and fell away, disappearing back into nothing. Maddy was back on her feet, scrambling toward the bed, but before she could get there, the tail connected with her shoulder, tearing flesh and her cotton nightgown, and sending blood splattering across her daughter’s floor. As the thing flickered out of existence again, Maddy cursed under her breath (don’t want to make the neighbors suspicious) and threw herself onto the bed, Ax toting behind her.
She stood on the small bed, much as the thing had, and waited with the Ax raised before her. Nothing happened for several minutes, except that her back began to seize up with tension and she was becoming more aware of exactly how much her shoulder stung. She was dripping blood all over the sheets (no blanket, too hot, too confining).
A thought occurred to her and, not sure it would work, she grabbed the flat sheet and threw it to the ground. When nothing happened for a while, she carefully climbed down from the bed and used her foot to spread the sheet out across the scuffed floor. She was acutely aware of the throbbing of her shoulder now and hand to hold the Ax with one arm.
Maddy was considering how to make a bandage with a pillow case when the thing reappeared, one paw on the corner of the sheet. She swung at it fiercely with the Ax, which cut deeply into the thing’s leg. It screamed a scream like a child’s and thrashed away, tail writhing. Maddy grabbed the Ax handle with her bad arm and managed to wrench it free before the thing could take her weapon with it.
She turned and tore the fitted sheet from the bed, sending Theresa’s lone pillow flying. She threw it over her shoulder and took a firm stance on the sheet on the ground and waited.
When the thing reappeared, on the other side of the bed sheet this time, she lunged for it. It reeled away from her, but she caught her free hand in it’s tangled mane. It bucked and she held on. Her whole shoulder felt as if it were going to rip free and blood tangled the thing’s fur further, and her insides were jarred in a most uncomfortable way, her head spun and she thought maybe she would be sick, but first she had to drop her Ax and throw the fitted sheet over the thing’s head.
She let go and fell away, barely avoiding the spiked tail again and the thing spun around widely, smashing the vanity mirror to pieces and tearing through the dolls Theresa never played with. Maddy hugged the floor and reached for the Ax. Stupid to drop it, really. She was out of practice.
The thing wheeled up to stand on its hind legs and tore at the sheet with it forepaws. Strips of cotton fell around it like confetti as it hissed in outrage. Maddy’s fingers closed around the Ax handle and she willed herself back onto her feet. The thing couldn’t leave now.
Again, she lunged. The soles of her feet were shredded by jags from the broken mirror as she flung her Ax into the thing’s back with the force of all her weight, but as it screamed its stolen child-scream and twisted about to glare at her with fiery eyes and hundreds of teeth, she didn’t care.
It snapped at her, but she dragged her Ax and herself away, spit splattering and burning her arms. Her mouth twitched upward at the corner and she spun with the Ax, gracefully dancing across the mirror bits back toward the unfortunate beast.
The thing wailed like she had heard so many times as blood and intestines spilled form it body. She dug the Ax further into its side, and grunted when its tail smacked against her back and legs over and over. The thing’s paws batted at her face, but she kept her face down and her already ruined shoulders took most of the damaged. She could feel her body fail, being ripped to piece, so much of her flesh already gone, but as she dragged her Ax through the thing, she could feel it slipping away too.
Finally she let go of the Ax and began pulling things from inside the thing, letting them drop to the now red floor. A rook from a chess set, a watch, a rusted sardine tin, a roof tile, a pillow fresh as a midday nap, bits and pieces of a smashed kitchen appliance (she suspected it was a blender). The thing gave out one last angry sigh and went limp.
Maddy was sure most of her calves were now a sticky goo on the floor and the tail of the thing, and her feet barely had any skin on the bottoms to speak of, but she managed to stagger down the hall to the bathroom, dragging the Ax with her.
As she peered at herself in the mirror, she concluded she was an absolute mess. While her face had stayed mostly in tact, what were left of her hair rollers were now completely lost in a mat of ash brown hair. Her night gown was in tatters, and underneath the tatters was a horror of sticky red and black.
Maddy groaned. It would take days to put herself back together, not to mention the disaster that was now Theresa’s room.
It was balanced on Theresa’s bed, swinging its massive body back and forth as if inclined to pace, but the bed was too small. It noticed Maddy and grinned, showing off a row of razor teeth glistening with spittle, and hint of more teeth behind. It’s face was almost a man’s, but not quite, because there was something off about the chin and jaw, as if it was a distorted caricature and the artist had pulled the corners of the mouth too close to the ears and not bothered to level out the chin. The body was that of a lion’s, sandy red in the moonlight from the open window (the air conditioning had decided not to work that night), with a shaggy mane clinging in tufts to its neck shoulders. The tail was scaly, not quite green but not quite blue, and it’s tip was bloated and covered in tiny spikes.
The thing sat calmly in her daughter’s bed, but it’s draconian tail quivered in anticipation. Maddy’s eyes narrowed and she shifted to grasp the Ax in both hands, keeping it waist-high and aiming it toward the thing. She focused on the tail, not the horrible smile with the teeth and the putrid smell wafting toward her, and the tail, although flicking back and forth, was not leaving the confines of the bed. Theresa must not have given much thought to the rest of the house when she woke up.
Except that she had surely thought of her mother, which is why the thing watched her with the intensity of a cat after a canary as she carefully walked around the room so she stood a yard from the foot of the bed. She held the Ax level between herself and the thing.
She knew it would pounce, and she knew it would disappear when it did, but she still let out a gasp when it suddenly reappeared with its paw on her chest, pushing her down onto the floor. It stared at her for a moment with a single paw on her breast, perhaps puzzled by the rollers in her hair, but she had to act before it realized that even though it could see her, touch her, feel her, she was not what it was looking for.
Both hands were still on the Ax, but right now it was useless, and so she brought one knee up to collide with the thing’s unprotected belly. It roared and fell away, disappearing back into nothing. Maddy was back on her feet, scrambling toward the bed, but before she could get there, the tail connected with her shoulder, tearing flesh and her cotton nightgown, and sending blood splattering across her daughter’s floor. As the thing flickered out of existence again, Maddy cursed under her breath (don’t want to make the neighbors suspicious) and threw herself onto the bed, Ax toting behind her.
She stood on the small bed, much as the thing had, and waited with the Ax raised before her. Nothing happened for several minutes, except that her back began to seize up with tension and she was becoming more aware of exactly how much her shoulder stung. She was dripping blood all over the sheets (no blanket, too hot, too confining).
A thought occurred to her and, not sure it would work, she grabbed the flat sheet and threw it to the ground. When nothing happened for a while, she carefully climbed down from the bed and used her foot to spread the sheet out across the scuffed floor. She was acutely aware of the throbbing of her shoulder now and hand to hold the Ax with one arm.
Maddy was considering how to make a bandage with a pillow case when the thing reappeared, one paw on the corner of the sheet. She swung at it fiercely with the Ax, which cut deeply into the thing’s leg. It screamed a scream like a child’s and thrashed away, tail writhing. Maddy grabbed the Ax handle with her bad arm and managed to wrench it free before the thing could take her weapon with it.
She turned and tore the fitted sheet from the bed, sending Theresa’s lone pillow flying. She threw it over her shoulder and took a firm stance on the sheet on the ground and waited.
When the thing reappeared, on the other side of the bed sheet this time, she lunged for it. It reeled away from her, but she caught her free hand in it’s tangled mane. It bucked and she held on. Her whole shoulder felt as if it were going to rip free and blood tangled the thing’s fur further, and her insides were jarred in a most uncomfortable way, her head spun and she thought maybe she would be sick, but first she had to drop her Ax and throw the fitted sheet over the thing’s head.
She let go and fell away, barely avoiding the spiked tail again and the thing spun around widely, smashing the vanity mirror to pieces and tearing through the dolls Theresa never played with. Maddy hugged the floor and reached for the Ax. Stupid to drop it, really. She was out of practice.
The thing wheeled up to stand on its hind legs and tore at the sheet with it forepaws. Strips of cotton fell around it like confetti as it hissed in outrage. Maddy’s fingers closed around the Ax handle and she willed herself back onto her feet. The thing couldn’t leave now.
Again, she lunged. The soles of her feet were shredded by jags from the broken mirror as she flung her Ax into the thing’s back with the force of all her weight, but as it screamed its stolen child-scream and twisted about to glare at her with fiery eyes and hundreds of teeth, she didn’t care.
It snapped at her, but she dragged her Ax and herself away, spit splattering and burning her arms. Her mouth twitched upward at the corner and she spun with the Ax, gracefully dancing across the mirror bits back toward the unfortunate beast.
The thing wailed like she had heard so many times as blood and intestines spilled form it body. She dug the Ax further into its side, and grunted when its tail smacked against her back and legs over and over. The thing’s paws batted at her face, but she kept her face down and her already ruined shoulders took most of the damaged. She could feel her body fail, being ripped to piece, so much of her flesh already gone, but as she dragged her Ax through the thing, she could feel it slipping away too.
Finally she let go of the Ax and began pulling things from inside the thing, letting them drop to the now red floor. A rook from a chess set, a watch, a rusted sardine tin, a roof tile, a pillow fresh as a midday nap, bits and pieces of a smashed kitchen appliance (she suspected it was a blender). The thing gave out one last angry sigh and went limp.
Maddy was sure most of her calves were now a sticky goo on the floor and the tail of the thing, and her feet barely had any skin on the bottoms to speak of, but she managed to stagger down the hall to the bathroom, dragging the Ax with her.
As she peered at herself in the mirror, she concluded she was an absolute mess. While her face had stayed mostly in tact, what were left of her hair rollers were now completely lost in a mat of ash brown hair. Her night gown was in tatters, and underneath the tatters was a horror of sticky red and black.
Maddy groaned. It would take days to put herself back together, not to mention the disaster that was now Theresa’s room.
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