The steps made a soft sound, like distant night birds, as the old woman hobbled up onto the front porch of the abandoned house. For a second, she stood in front of the battered door and, with her mind, felt out the structure until she knew it from the top of its Victorian peak, to the bottom of its basement. There was one inside. There usually was in the old houses. And there was a cat beneath the porch, too, tending its offspring.
After a hundred years, the time had come to face the task she was born for. This was the place where she would finally die. The old woman opened the door and stepped inside. It was like falling into the arms of an old friend.
Down the street, and at the end of the block, Edgar hurried across his backyard, clutching four struggling goldfish in a nylon sock that he had knotted into a little bag. He told himself that he was running out of time, that the wriggling handful of goldfish would die on him if he didn't hurry up. He turned sideways to squeeze through the space left by the missing board in the fence and then trotted down the little hill to the wooded area below. The Almighty Hammer of Power was there where he had left it, waiting for him behind the old tin pump house, beside the Rock of Hurting. Working quickly, he placed the wet, writhing bundle on the flat surface of the stone and savored the deep thrill feeling inside his stomach for a few seconds. Then it was time.
"There's no stoppin' me now," he said, grimly. He didn't even care if he got caught again. Not now, now that he was gonna do IT. Moisture had made the sock slightly transparent, so Edgar could see the helpless fish. He moved his hand down and gently spread them out a little.
He started out with light tapping that would make it last, but before he knew it, the Almighty Hammer of Power went out of control again. All of a sudden it was high over his head and he was bringing it down hard, smashing them into jelly until the sock ruptured and the stuff splattered all over his arm and chest. Then IT happened. Then he rubbed himself down there and said the bad words and IT happened again.
IT was good. IT was sooo good that it was a long time before he could move again, but even so, he was already feeling a little dissatisfied. Edgar told himself, the trouble with fish and bugs and worms was they never made any noise when he did IT to them. Edgar wondered what it would be like if fish could scream.
Next door to the old abandoned house, Mavis had found the kitty; or rather it had found her. She had been digging a hole with an old spoon in the backyard when she heard it crying from next door at the haunted house. It was one of the kittens that lived under the porch over there with the mommy cat. Now, it was close to the fence, crying for someone to play with. Mavis could have done the no-no, snuck out the gate and slipped around the fence to pick up the kitty, but she knew better than to leave the backyard. So, she dug a little hole under the fence and let it come in. It was so beautiful, so furry. . . furry like being warm under the covers. It had a scratchy tongue that sent a chill flashing up her neck. She made a little puddle of water with the faucet and, while it was drinking, she ran into the house.
"Mommy!" she cried. She was out of breath with excitement. "Mommy!"
"What is it, now, Mavis?" Mommy was making casserole for dinner. "I told you not to be running in and out of the house, didn't I?"
"Mommy, can I have a kitty?"
"Hell, no. Now, either stay in the house, or stay outside, young lady. Now, either stay in the house, or stay outside, young lady. I'm tired of hearing that damn door slam."
"Oh, come on, Mommy, please!"
"No pets. Now, go out and play and let me fix dinner. Out! And don't slam the door. I swear, I don't know where you get your wild ideas from."
Three times she tried to stick the kitty through the hole under the fence and three times it came back in before she could stuff it up with dirt. Exasperated, she finally put it under her arm and did the no-no. At the side of the house, she opened the gate and snuck out of the backyard. It would only take a minute for her to take the kitty back and put it under the steps of the haunted house.
Agnes, the housecleaning lady, was waiting when Edgar's old man came through the door.
"I think he's up to something," she said.
"Like what?" Edgar's father opened up the fridge and got the first of many and twisted off the lid. It made the crack and spit sound that he liked. It stung cold going down his throat and he downed a third with the first couple of gulps. He burped.
"See for yourself." Agnes lit a cigarette and pointed at the aquarium in the living room, between the TV and the fireplace. She threw back her head and blew a cloud of bluish smoke towards the ceiling.
Shaking his head, Edgar's father walked to the aquarium and looked it over. "Jesus Christ," he said. "The freakin' fish are gone." Edgar had begged him for the fish and fish bowl. Cried and pouted and promised to be good. "Jesus Christ," he repeated.
"And will you look at the mess?" put in Agnes. "Water all over the place. And tell me why he left a sock on the floor?"
"Just clean it up and go home," he told her. "I'll take care of it."
When she was gone, he went to the fridge and got another cold one. He wondered what Edgar was doing to the fish but quickly realized that he didn't even want to think about that. He slipped off his belt before he sat down in the recliner and laid it over the arm so it would be ready when Edgar got home. It was the shits when your kid was broken.
"Hi, Mavis."
"Hi, Edgar."
"Whatcha got?"
"A kitty."
"Cool. Let me see."
Mavis didn't really want to let Edgar have the kitty, but he was older than she was. She didn't like him. He could be mean, sometimes, and you could never really see his eyes straight on. Roughly, he pulled it away from her and held it up by its neck so he could look it over. The kitty stayed limp, like a floppy doll. She didn't like the way he was treating the cat. It was like the cat was an ice cream and he was going to eat it.
"Give it back, now, Edgar. I have to put it back under the porch of the haunted house. That's where it lives." They were on the sidewalk in front of the old house that sat way back from the street. Edgar had come up from behind it somewhere, from down in the trees of the old orchard.
"I can't do that, Mavis. This little old cat is hungry. I think it wants something to eat."
Mavis felt uncomfortable. For one thing she had been out of the backyard for too long. For another, he was probably right, the kitty was sure to be hungry. They always were. "I don't have any kitty food."
"Tell you what," said Edgar. "I know where there is some fish for this kitty to eat. Cats love fish, you know. So, I'll take the kitty to where the fish is and, when it's finished eating, I can put it back under the porch of the old house."
She had been out of the backyard for too long. Mommy would be checking soon. "Okay," she said.
The old woman looked out the window at the children in front of the house and saw the kitten change hands. The old woman stroked her bony chin with a knotted hand for a second, watching as the boy with the kitten trotted across the front yard and disappeared around the side of the house. He was heading for the old pump house that was hidden in the trees in back. The little girl turned and walked a few steps in the direction of the house next door. But then she stopped, turned again, and went running after the boy and the kitty. Clearly, she had left something unsaid, or had a second thought.
The old woman turned from the window. She was going to need some candles. It would be dark soon.
Edgar couldn't believe his incredible good luck.
First thing, he got some pieces of the old baling wire that was scattered around the pump house and, after a bit of a fight, got the cat's front and back legs tied up. He grabbed up the Almighty Hammer of Power from under the bush where he had left it after squishing the fish. Once the cat was stretched out on the Rock of Hurting, he rubbed himself down there with the Almighty Hammer of Power and said a few bad words. He was gonna do IT to the cat and bygawd nothin' could stop him now. He said some more bad words and then he held its little head down tight while he clubbed its back legs until they snapped and little white icicles of bone popped out of the bloody fur. The kitty screamed nicely and, right then, IT started happening. Panting, Edgar let the Almighty Hammer of Power descend on a front paw. He heard a scream, but it wasn't the kitten's.
Stunned, Edgar dropped the Almighty Hammer of Power and leapt to his feet. Another scream came from behind him and he knew instantly that Mavis had followed him and seen him doing IT to the kitten. He whirled and found her standing there, wide eyed and staring at the writhing, screeching kitty and fixing to scream again. She ran, but it was easy to catch her. He beat the hell out of her and threw her in the old pump house.
From a little crack between the cold concrete floor where she lay, and the rusty tin wall of the old pump house, she could see with one eye what Edgar was doing to the kitten. And she would have puked except for the stinky, fish smelling sock he had tied around her mouth after he beat her up and twisted the wire tight around her wrists and ankles. There was something wrong with Edgar. The one eye she was seeing with blurred up with tears. Mavis knew that what Edgar was doing to the kitty, he would soon be doing to her. She just knew.
Edgar's old man was waiting for him when he got home. "How many times I gotta tell ya, Edgar? Ya gotta get with the freakin' program." He smacked the doubled up belt against his thigh.
"I dunno," said Edgar. He kept his eyes down because the old man would beat his ass worse if he saw the way he would look at him.
"So, where are the fish? Huh? Same place the turtle went?"
"I dunno." He knew better than to answer that one. The old man must think he was stupid. You never said anything except you didn't know. That way you never had to explain. You never had to think up a lie.
"I didn't think you would," said his father. The long fingers of his hand dug into Edgar's hair and pulled him into proper ass whipping range. "What's it gonna take for you to get with the program?"
The belt whistled through the air like a fizzled out bottle rocket and bit Edgar's naked ass. Edgar clamped down his jaw and gave a little hop as the next one slashed across his back. He told himself, he can't hurt me, he can't hurt me, he can't hurt me. Then he cried out. He hopped away from the pain. He started getting with the program.
The old woman found some long candle stubs in a drawer in the kitchen, gathered them up, and took them downstairs to the basement. As she knew there would be, there was a rickety old rocking chair to sit in. She lit the candles and glued them to the stone floor with their own melted wax.
It was dark now. She sat down in the rocking chair and slowly began to rock. Something was darting around the edge of the light. She told herself, candlelight is the playground of shadows. She started to hum.
After he got Edgar back with the program and sent to bed, Edgar's father collapsed into the recliner with a long neck. As soon as he quit wheezing for air, he nodded off until the cop knocked on the door and woke him up.
At first, he thought the cop was there for him again. But no, Edgar hadn't made that much noise....
"What's up, officer?"
The cop handed him a picture of a little girl. A cute little thing, with wavy hair and big eyes. "I'm looking for this child. You seen her?"
Edgar's old man studied the picture. "Damn," he said, "you know, she looks familiar, but I just can't place her."
"Her name is Mavis. She lives a couple of houses down the street, but she wandered out of her backyard a couple of hours ago."
"Nah, I ain't seen her. I'll keep my eyes open, though."
"You smell like you've had a few beers," said the cop. "Don't let me catch you driving around tonight."
"Whatever," said Edgar's father and he shut the door. He couldn't help but think how sweet it would be if Edgar would wander off someday and never come back. It was too bad about the little girl, though. Probably, she had been snatched. The world was full of creeps.
The thought came to Edgar while he was sound asleep and it was so powerful of a thought that his eyes flew open and he was wide awake with his mind full of the thought.
He could do whatever he wanted.
The thought had always been there, he realized. It had just been hiding in the back of his mind, like a shadow in the closet, like Mavis, tied-up down in the pump house in the orchard. It was more than a thought, though. What was that word?
It was a concept. The concept was that he could do whatever he wanted and no one could ever stop him because he was special. It was exciting to think that. His heart pounded and it was hard to breathe. Then he heard the cop knock on the door and he got up out of bed and slipped silently into the hallway so he could listen in.
In the basement of the old house, the old woman slowly rocked her chair in a halo of candlelight. As people often do, she saw it first in the corner of her eye. It was scarcely noticeable, nothing more than a flicker of darkness that flared and vanished. She knew better than to move her head, or eyes, in its direction. You could never see one if you looked directly at it, that was why no one ever really saw them. It switched sides and she saw it out of the corner of her other eye.
They liked humming, too, but it had to be a haunting sort of tune, the kind of tune that ran in a circle. The last time she had caught a shadow, she had hummed "Strangers in the Night", way back when it was the number one hit. They liked that tune, so she used it again. The flicker was faster now, like the movies of her childhood. But, it still wasn't safe to look directly at it. Not, yet.
When the cop was gone, Edgar gave the old man a few minutes to pass out again, then he opened up his window and eased out into the night where the moonlight was like a frosty mist. Everything was clear now. No more uncertainty, no more confusion. He knew exactly what he was going to do to do to Mavis. He would do whatever the hell he wanted to do her. That was gonna be fun, fun, fun... and then, maybe later on, the old man would meet up with the Almighty Hammer of Power.
Hell, no, he told himself. No maybe about it. "I can do whatever I want," he said out loud. "I'm special, that way. I can not be stopped." In a flash he saw himself in his mind, sneaking up behind the old man while he was snoring in the recliner. Up goes the Almighty Hammer of Power. Down goes the Almighty Hammer of Power. Smack!
It was so good to think about that he shuddered. He looked around and saw that he was at the door of the old pump house and he didn't even remember getting there. The Almighty Hammer of Power was in his hand, glinting in the moonlight. He knew that Mavis knew he was standing outside the door. It made him laugh. Now that he understood the thought, the concept, he had only one fear. He didn't want to be interrupted before he could do IT to Mavis. He could do whatever he wanted, but he was going to have to be sly about it. He couldn't have her making a lot of racket.
Wait a minute, he told himself. He wanted her to make a lot of racket.
Screaming was part of IT. A big part of IT. Her making a lot of racket was exactly what he needed. Edgar stopped with his hand on the latch. This was a problem. If he did IT to her, here, on the Rock of Hurting, the little brat would wake up the whole neighborhood. And what if that stupid cop was still hanging around? He would have to hurry it up.
Edgar didn't want to hurry. He wanted to do IT slowly to Mavis. He wanted to relish every yelp and howl and scream and whimper that he beat out of her. And there was something else he wanted to do to her, but he couldn't think what it was. But he knew he had to have time to figure it out.
The best thing would be if he could take her up to his room. But no, the old man would wake up the second he started doing IT to her.
Then he remembered the old house. He'd been in it a few times and he remembered it had a deep, stone-walled basement. As soon as he remembered it, it all came together for him. His resolve jelled and he threw open the door and entered the pump house. In a second, he had the wire unwrapped from her ankles. Roughly, he grabbed Mavis and pulled her up.
"Time for you to get with the program," he told her between tightly clenched teeth. He had her hair twisted up in one hand and the Almighty Hammer of Power in the other as he marched her up the hill, through the trees, and towards the old house. Her terrified heart was pounding so hard that Edgar could feel it coming out of her bones. She made scared noises. They really excited him. Every time Mavis struggled, or tried to stall, he would knee her in the back and shove her forward. She belonged to him. Just like he belonged to his father.
It had taken some cajoling, but at last she had the shadow in her lap. It had no substance, but it possessed a clammy sort of temperature. When she touched it, it was like sticking her hand into a pool of cool water. It slid up her chest, coiled around her scrawny neck for a second before flowing back down to her lap like black oil. The old woman giggled. She wondered who the shadow had once been and why it remained, lurking down here in the basement of a deteriorating old house. She opened the paper grocery bag that she had ready and softly shooed it inside. Then she folded and creased the top so it couldn't get out. There was no bulging, no struggling from within the bag because the shadow had no substance. The old woman thought to it until it understood what she wanted it to do for her.
Then she stopped rocking and waited for death. She had been born for one reason only: to catch a shadow and put it in a sack.
In a moment, there was a metallic screech from up above as the back door swung on its single hinge and reluctantly opened. A child's muffled whimpering came down to her as light footsteps creaked across the rotten floorboards above the old woman's head. Then she heard Edgar swearing as he came down the stairs, dragging the child and brandishing the Almighty Hammer of Power. She felt the sudden surprise and panic that Edgar felt when he saw her waiting in the basement. The old woman kept still in her chair until Edgar hit her from behind. Death came to the old body with a clunk and an explosion of red.
When Edgar laid into the old hag with the Almighty Hammer of Power, he hit her so hard that the chair started rocking, back and forth, back and forth. He was sure she was dead from the first whack, but to make extra sure, he kept smacking her until the back of her head got mushy and his arm cramped up. Her unexpected presence had scared the hell out of him, even though she had been just sitting down there in the basement with candles burning at her feet. Now that it was over, he realized that she wasn't anything special, just a homeless that was probably spending the night here in the old house.
Fear and excitement pulsed throughout his body. Killing that old witch had felt pretty damn good. And the candles would come in handy, too, because he hadn't thought to grab a flashlight so he could see what he was doing to Mavis. It was funny how things had started working out for him right after he had thought that special thought.
He told himself, time to get to work. Time to get with the program.
Mavis knew IT was coming. Edgar was going to take the claw hammer and do to her everything he had done to the kitten and the rocking chair lady. She knew how it was going to hurt. She struggled for all she was worth as Edgar manhandled her into the ring of candlelight and threw her down on the stone floor. Mavis even drew blood when she got a good kick into his face as he was holding her feet to get the wire wrapped back around her ankles. Edgar swore and smacked her twice in the face so hard that it stunned her. But, even as she lost the fight for her life, she noticed something funny, something that didn't make sense.
The chair was still rocking. It should have stopped a long time ago.
"You're gonna pay for busting my lip," he told her. "Now, I'm really gonna be tough on you, Mavis. You shoulda thought of that before you kicked me." He pulled the sock off of her mouth, let it fall down around her neck. "Go ahead and scream, Mavis. Scream and yell all you want 'cause down here, no one is gonna hear when I do IT to you."
Mavis didn't scream. She just gagged and hacked and tried to roll over so she couldn't see him.
"I'm gonna make you beg me," he told her. He stood over her and rolled her back over so he could see the terror in her face and how the candlelight was like a pale yellow sickness on the skin of her cheek. Edgar straddled her with the Almighty Hammer of Power in his hand, ready for action, as he contemplated the starting point of doing IT to Mavis. But before he could decide where he was going to hurt her first, it occurred to him, in a subtle way, that something was really wrong. Something was very out of whack.
How in the hell could that chair with the old dead woman in it still be rocking after all this time?
There was only one answer. The old hag wasn't dead enough. Startled at the thought, he forgot Mavis and quickly turned his head to look in that direction. Even in the dim light of the candles, one look at the slack face with its vacant eyes and bloody nose told him he was wrong, that she was as dead as the kitten and the fish. He was reaching out his free hand to stop the chair when he noticed the paper bag in her lap.
Cautiously, he picked it up. Right away, Edgar knew that even though it was folded closed like it held something, it was completely empty. It seemed very cool to his touch. Just to make sure, he stuck the Almighty Hammer of Power under his arm and unfolded the top of the sack and looked inside. The shadow was boiling in the bottom of the bag. Edgar knew instantly what it was and he knew instantly that it was alive and that it was bad for Edgar.
With a quick yelp, he dropped the sack and managed to throw back his head in time to get it out of the way as the shadow erupted from the sack. Edgar backed away, reaching for the claw hammer tucked into his armpit. That thing had almost gotten him. And, now, where the hell was it, now?
Something flickered and quickly vanished in the corner of his eye. He turned to face it, but it was gone. It was out there though, somewhere in the world of blackness beyond the ring of candlelight. He brandished the Almighty Hammer of Power at his unseen enemy. If he acted tough, maybe it would get Mavis instead of him.
A minute later, he realized he was being stupid. When the truth came to him, Edgar laughed out loud.
"Fuck you," he told it. "You're just a shadow, you can't hurt me. You're just a dark piece of nothin'. You couldn't hurt a fly." He laughed again.
The shadow came sliding across the floor, out of the night like a leak in the darkness that spilled towards him. Edgar tried to refuse to fear it, even when it looped around his legs. Damn, but it was a cold thing! Defiantly, he took a swing at it with the Almighty Hammer of Power, but struck nothing. The shadow flowed like black water, slipping under his shirt and up to his neck and all over his head like a shovel full of snow in the face.
Then it went in through his eyes. It took the first nibble and Edgar screamed. And then it took a bite and Edgar really screamed. His fingers dug into his eyes as he tried to pull it out. He dropped so hard to his knees that they both cracked. On elbows and belly, he swam and rolled across the floor, crawling right over Mavis as he frantically scuttled for the stairway.
Mavis watched the rocking chair still rocking while she listened to Edgar rattling up the stairs, screaming and bumping into things. "You're not really dead, are you?"
"Yes and no," came the answer. "You are going to be all right, little girl. Your father will come for you in just a few minutes. Edgar will never hurt anyone again."
"There is something wrong with Edgar."
"Yes and no. Sometimes people are born in the wrong place. Edgar was supposed to be born in a place that is a lot different than this place."
Mavis thought for a minute. She heard Edgar go crashing through the front door and screaming into the street. "Is he going to die?"
"Yes and no. The shadow will live inside his brain so he can never think a certain bad thought that he thought. He will never see anything again, not even a picture in his mind. But he will live for many years."
"You're not going to die," said Mavis. "You're like an angel, or something."
"Yes and no." The voice was coming from nowhere and everywhere at the same time, but that was the last thing it said. The chair stopped rocking.
George is a baby boomer living in Sacramento, California, where he works as a Sears repair technician and attends a local vocational college. In his time he has been a ranch hand, a cook, a laborer, a carny, a sawmill and factory and cannery worker, an upholsterer, a union organizer and business agent, a salesman and a machinist.
E-mail: gkmow@msn.com
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