Chapter Seven: The Sad Old LadyA Chapter by Not here“Come on…” Michael muttered to himself. Laying on his bed, Gameboy in hand, he was playing the new Donkey Kong game. Well, sort of new. It had just come out in his town about a week ago, whereas most places had it over a year earlier. At the same time just about, they had gotten the new Super Star Wars: Return of the Jedi game. For him and Brandon, who both had Gameboys and had saved up money, it was a tough choice. In the end, they decided to split up and get both games, so that if one was not good, they could share the other one. MIchael chose the Donkey Kong game. Even without having any other DK games, he had played it at the arcade in Marcy a few times before they took it down, saying it was going to be repaired but never brought it back. Now, finally, he would have a game of his own, besides the typical, cheap games he got at first for his Gameboy. So far, it was everything he had expected, and helped immensely to pass the time. As for the Super Star Wars game, Brandon said it was not quite as fun, and definitely a lot different, but he still enjoyed it. The only other game he had for his Gameboy hardly worked most of the time, and when it did was not fun at all. Sometime soon, they would probably swap games, and then Brandon might buy Donkey Kong for himself. “Dang it,” he said as Mario got pounded by a barrel. “So close.” At that moment, Lilly walked in, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders, with an armful of stuffed animals, mostly horses and bears of course. She calmly came into the room, as she had been in there many times before. Michael and her often spent time together, sometimes drawing, sometimes playing with Lilly’s few Barbies. Occasionally, she slept in there, which he guessed was going to happen tonight, judging by the blanket and animals. “Are you playing Doonkey King?” He laughed and smiled at her. “Donkey Kong, you mean?” “That’s what I said,” she snapped. Even kindergartners can have an attitude, apparently, although it was adorable to everyone except themselves. “Yeah, I am. But what are you doing with those blankets?” “It’s just my blankey. Very soft,” she answered, twirling around and grinning from eye to eye. Her curly red hair danced around, while her brown eyes gleamed. “Okay, but what about the animals?” She opened her mouth to say something, but dropped her animals. They came tumbling down on the floor, but she did not care. “Mommy said I can sleep in here if you say yes.” Michael went back to playing his Gameboy and said, “Well, you haven’t asked yet.” “Can I sleep with you?” she asked, wrapping the pink blanket tighter around her shoulders. “Hmm,” he answered, teasing her. “Please,” she responded, folding her hands together like people do to pray. “Well...I don’t know…” “Pretty please.” Michael held back a smile as he put the Gameboy a little higher, blocking his face from her sight. She always thought those cute little eyes and tiny, folded hands could work wonders and get things from others people, and they were certainly hard to say no to, but it was fun to tease her. “A little brotherly love,” he called it.When he still did not answer, she sprang up on to the bed and peeked over his console. With the deepest, scratchiest voice she could muster, Lilly growled, “If you say no, the monster’ll get you.” A snicker came tumbling out of Michael, despite his best attempts not to laugh. In an equally low voice he answered, “I’m not scared of the monster.” Lilly giggled and answered the same, “But you should be.” Letting the smile spread even wider, Michael said quickly, “I am the monster,” and then jumped up and began tickling her. Lilly’s curls flew up in the air as she frantically rolled around, kicking wildly and shrieking with delight. Michael began growling betweens laughs, and her face illuminated like a flame, brightening the whole room. Exhausted, he collapsed on the floor, leaving her on the bed, beginning to calm down but still laughing hysterically. Never without energy, she got up on her knees and stuck out her fingers like claws, growling and saying, “Monster, monster.” Michael rolled onto his back and did the same, growling and chanting. “Monster, monster, monster, monster, monster-” “Having fun?” their mom’s voice interrupted. Both of them looked up, grinning and exhilarated. Lilly spoke up, answering, “We’re playing ‘Monster.’ The monster got me.” “Well, I’m glad you two are having fun, but if Lilly’s gonna sleep in here, it’s time for bed.” Lilly looked expectantly at her brother, who said, “Okay, you can sleep in here.” With a burst of joy, she jumped down and hugged him before running off downstairs to her room. Michael asked, “Where’s she going, Mom?” “From the looks of it, to get more stuffed animals.” *********************************************** “Bubby?” Michael was exhausted, laying on the floor yet again. Lilly had claimed the bed, his bed, and when she made up her mind, there was no changing it. The word came out of nowhere, but he saw her sit up in the bed, curled hair falling to the neck of her nightgown. Light was floating out of the closet, casting just enough of it to see her silhouette against the even darker wall. “Yeah, Lilly?” There was a moment’s pause, as if she was unsure what to say, or if she wanted to. Then she asked, “Can you tell me a story? I can’t sleep. I tried to count the sheep jumping into the wall, but there’s too many.” Michael laughed despite his weariness and responded, “You mean jumping over the gate?” “Oh, they do that? If I try that, will I sleep better?” she asked in a curious, innocent way that little children do. “I don’t know,” Michael yawned. “I’m sorry, Lilly, but I just need to sleep. Could you tell yourself a story?” She thought for a moment, then answered, “I guess. I didn’t ever try.” “Well,” he yawned again, beginning to fade into the world of dreams, “you ought to...try...tonight…” and then his head sunk into the pillow, calm and quiet. “But what story can I tell?” she asked. No reply came, but she did not know her brother was sleeping. With a pouting face, she curled up and brought her tiny knees to her even smaller chin. “What story can I tell…” It was a while later, almost an hour, when she uncurled herself and laid down straight. The ceiling overhead was very dark, not helped any by the flickering light of the closet. On for a few seconds, and then off. Agonizingly repetitive, painfully dependable; every so many seconds, it popped off, and then just as quickly lit up again. On, and then off; back on just as quickly, and then off. Within five minutes, the room was dark, except for the digital clock over squatting on the shelf. 10:25; the closet light suddenly flicked back on. It remained steady, almost giving hope that it would stay. Was the darkness to be defeated? Was the light to remain? The tapping noise started then. Like a the nail of a woman’s hand, tapping ever so rhythmically on glass, it continued. Lightbulb clicked on; tap, tap, tap; lightbulb clicked off. A few seconds passed slowly; lightbulb clicked on; tap, tap, tap; lightbulb clicked off. 10:26. Lightbulb clicked on; tap, tap, tap; lightbulb clicked off. A few seconds passed slowly; lightbulb clicked on; tap, tap, tap; lightbulb clicked off.10:27. Lightbulb clicked on; tap, tap, tap, tap; the tapping got faster, faster, and then stopped; lightbulb clicked off. A few seconds passed slowly; lightbulb clicked on; tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, faster, faster, stop; lightbulb clicked off. 10:28. There was no noise. Lilly lay there, sleeping peacefully, unaware of what was happening all around her. She was calm, content, and totally- Tap, tap, tap; pause; tap, tap, tap; pause; tap, tap, tap. Light on, light off, light on, light off; it rapidly switched back and forth, a pop here and it shot on, a snap here and it turned off in the blink of an eye, the drop of a nail. Nail. Nails on the window. Nails tapping; tap, tap tap, tap; on and on and on, never stopping, not ceasing, continuous, dreadfully continuous 10:29. It grew to a sickening pace, while the light switched on and off even quicker, even faster. On, off, tap, tap, on, off, tap, tap; it would be torture listening. If Lilly had been awake, she would have grabbed her brother’s hand and pointed to the window, because there, tap, tap, tap, tapping along, were the nails. Five, bright red nails of a woman; tap, tap, tap, tap. The fingers flexed, bent, tapped, bent back, flexed, bent, tapped, bent back; on and on. They began to scratch, scraping along downwards, starting near the top and carving their way down the glass, leaving a trail. Then a mixture, frantic taps followed by drawn-out scrapes, both full of madness. 10:30. The nails disappeared. The light shut off. Everything was black. What darkness lay outside the window remained, calm, peaceful. It was replaced by a face; a hideous face, a lined, scarred, tortured, mutilated face. Wrinkles scratched like roads in its surface, going this way and that way from the capital city, which was the chapped, curved lips. The face was smiling. She was smiling. Lilly’s eyes jerked open, and in a sweet, little voice she told a story. Short, to the point, and dreadful. It was a story. “It was dark. A little girl was walking on the street. She was smiling. She was happy. She was alone. There were streetlights, but it was still dark. Then, she saw someone. It was an old lady by the street lamp. She looked sad; she was a sad old lady. The sad old lady was looking at the grass. Maybe there was something fun in the grass; maybe there was a toy to make her happy. “But the sad old lady looked up. She saw the little girl and she smiled. The sad old lady had teeth, but not all of them. She had lots of pretty, white hair though. I wish I was had her hair. The little girl wishes she had her hair. The sad old lady was crying. She was a sad old lady. “The little girl went closer and asked, ‘What is wrong, sad old lady?’ “The sad old lady smiled, but it was a sad smile. The sad old lady said, ‘I am a sad old lady.’ “The little girl asked, ‘Why are you a sad old lady?’ “The sad old lady answered, ‘I always have wished for a daughter like you. Two daughters like you. “The little girl said, ‘If I go up the road with you, will you be happy, sad old lady?’ “The sad old lady said, ‘Yes. Very happy.’ “Then they walked up the road together, the little girl and the sad old lady. Except now, she was a happy old lady. Oh, I wish I had her pretty red nails and her pretty white hair.” Then Lilly closed her eyes and slept on. Nothing strange happened at all that night, nothing unusual at all. Across town, Brandon looked out his window many times that night, but never saw the lady. She was not there, you see. She was busy. She was a happy old lady. © 2015 Not hereReviews
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