Dolly

         You’re a bully, Harry! Give Amanda back her doll!”
         “Get it yourself, ass-munch!”
Bobby’s brother tosses the dolly over the fence into a gnarled apple tree and slips away into the forest with his friends. Bobby can hear them cackling long after they disappear from view. He looks at the doll for a brief moment then moves towards the fence.
         “Bobby, don’t. My Pa can get her for me tomorrow,” Amanda pleads.
         Bobby snorts. “He won’t.”
         “He will!”
         “Okay,” he finally agrees, “he might, and then he might give you a lickin.”
         Amanda quiets and watches Bobby roll under the wire into the small, unkempt orchard.
         “It’s haunted, you know,” Amanda calls over the fence. “So’s that house over there, see it?”
         Bobby sees the house down the hill, shrouded by brambles and tall grass, but he’s not afraid because he knows nothing in there can hurt anybody. Besides, Bobby sees a real haunted house after school every day, where bad things really happened to little boys and girls. It’s address is 21 Spencer. He’s never been inside it, but he’s heard Amanda’s cries from the road often enough to draw conclusions.
         “Why should you be scared of that old place?” Bobby asks her. He wants to tell her that her own house is way scarier, but he holds his tongue. Amanda, of course, doesn’t answer.
         Bobby’s too little to reach the lowest branches of the apple tree, but the abnormal lean of the trunk makes it possible for him to shimmy up. His old runners finds enough grip on the gnarled bark to push him upwards. The tree hasn’t been pruned in years, and the wide-eyed, white-faced doll is trapped in the crotch of one of the tallest shoots. Bobby slowly gets to his feet in the middle of the tree. Below him, he can see Amanda gazing up at him in anticipation. He looks up and reaches for the doll, but his fingers only graze its limp little feet. Bobby sways to one side and grasps another branch to keep his balance.
         “Get down, you’re gonna break your neck!” Amanda yells, but he ignores her. He’s trying to focus on the task at hand, and it’s becoming obvious to him that he won’t be able to grab the doll. He grimaces in frustration and fights back tears. As a last resort, Bobby shakes the tree with as much strength as he can muster. A shower of un-picked apples patters on the soft grass and the doll loosens, sways, and finally flutters to the ground with some dead leaves. He smiles down at Amanda and she smiles back.
         Amanda holds Bobby’s hand almost all the way home. They don’t talk like they usually do. Bobby doesn’t mind - what would he say to her, after all? He’s happy to just be walking with his best friend, knowing that today, at least, turned out all right.
         At Spencer street, they stop. Amanda leans forward and kisses him on the cheek - a big smacker - and gives his hand a final squeeze before walking the rest of the way alone. Bobby watches her leave. He longs to walk her to her door, but knows it’s probably best for the both of them if he just stays put.

         *

         Bobby the Young Man has heard her cries from the road many times since he was Bobby the Young Boy, but this time is once too many. His blood is boiling in his veins and goosebumps erupt all over his body. His back is to the house and his feet are pointing home, but they won’t take him another step. He can’t go home, so he does the only thing he can: he marches across the over-grown lawn to the rotten door of 21 Spencer and flattens it with one well-placed kick.
         The foyer is filthy. Old shoes are scattered about, and dirt cakes the once pink carpet, making it a mahogany brown. The scent of wet dog, piss, and liquor overwhelm him as he enters the house for the first time.
         Broken glass crumbles under Bobby’s feet as he stomps into the living room. The coffee table is piled with dirty plates and empty bottles. Loud sobs and the slamming of a door echo down the hall.
         “Amanda?” Bobby calls. He meets her running down the hall in bare feet and catches her as she literally falls into him. “Amanda, breathe, okay? Breathe,” he says over and over, but she can’t. She’s gripping his arms with her hands tight enough to leave bruises and pressing her head into his chest. She chokes back sobs and snorts and exhales in rapid moans. Bobby takes her by the shoulders and slowly forces her away from him. Although her dress is bloodied and throat bruised, her face remains as white and wooden as ever. Bobby touches her face for a brief moment, allowing her desecrated state to fuel his anger, then moved her aside.
         “Where is he?” he says. She doesn’t answer. “Last door on the right? Amanda?”
         Amanda manages to nod. He passes her and disappears down the hall. “Bobby, don’t... he’s my pa!” she protests, but makes no move to stop him. Instead, she watches Bobby throw open the door and listens to his bowling-ball fists make short work of the weasel lurking in the master bedroom.
         After the noises stop, Bobby emerges from the house. Amanda stands up to meet him.
         “You didn’t... kill him, did you?” she asks.
         “No, no,” he replies. “You all right?”
         “Yes,” she says. Her eyes stop wandering and settle on his. “What about you?”
         Bobby thinks for a moment before replying. “You know... I’m good. Surprisingly good, actually.”
         “Good,” she says, and she kisses him deeply and thoroughly before he puts his arm around her shoulder and leads her away from 21 Spencer forever.



Author's note:

"Dolly" was derived from a project in my university writing class. The original was only 300 words. I have chosen the genres "friendship" "parenting" and "horror/scary" because those were the only ones that seemed to fit. I might be pushing it by calling it horror, although my instructor seems to think it fits the category. Thanks for reading!