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 |  A folder for my writing August 2017 & July 2016 |
971 words  The house was dark. There was no moon. In the mild early summer night, except for a few stars, the only light came from a distant street light, throwing eerie shadows. I parked the car in the driveway and walked to the front door, the click clicks from my heels annoying me to no end. I didn’t want to be here, but I needed the extra money from these moonlighting jobs, and Nick at the agency said a man had called and told him that he was in dire need for an adult babysitter who was experienced with challenged kids. His daughter was an eight-year old, and as he had to leave immediately and for several hours, he asked that the babysitter they would be sending should just come in through the unlocked front door. I pushed the door open. The entrance light was turned off. In the dark, I searched along the wall for the switch but couldn’t find it. I walked inside, groping the side of a wall, and finally found a switch. I saw that I had made it into a fancy living room. At that moment, I heard a sudden movement behind me. I turned around. A huge man stood there, about a dozen feet away. He had a face that looked disfigured as if he was just beaten up at the rink. He grinned and nodded at me, licking his lips. “Hello,” I said. “I am Meredith Williams. The babysitter. They told me you’d be gone, Mr. Snyder.” He took a step toward me, then stopped and nodded. “Is your daughter in her room?” He flexed his large hands. “What daughter?” He had a low growl of a voice. “Sorry, they must have given me the wrong address,” I said. “No, they didn’t.” His eyes glinted in amusement. He took another long stride toward me. Now, I worried, not scared but on alert. This was ridiculous. How could the agency do this to me! “If there’s no child, I should go,” I said, backing away from him, but he was now standing in the entryway. I wondered if there might be another door, another exit, but I saw none. I reached into my purse and found the pepper spray, and then, urged by a powerful survival instinct, I held the spray up, its nozzle toward the man. “Please, you are making me uncomfortable. Let me go!” He rushed at me, in only a couple of strides. I pushed on the nozzle. He screamed like a wounded gorilla. “You shouldn’t do that to Frank,” said a wispy child’s voice. Then, I spotted an angelic-looking little girl in a lacy nightgown standing in the hallway. She had beautiful green eyes and long blonde hair cascading behind her and around her face. “Olivia?” I asked. “Yes, that’s me. Daddy said you’d come.” She skipped all the way to the living room and reached to hold my hand. I looked at the large man who was now rubbing his eyes with his two large hands. “Your daddy? But he’s …” I looked at the large man again. “He’s not my daddy. He’s Frank. Are you scared?” “Should I be?” But I was...annoyed and furious. “No. I made Frank up. He is not real. He came from here.” She motioned to her head. “Look, I can make him disappear.” She closed her eyes and opened them. I looked to where the large man was standing. But there was nobody there. Frank had really disappeared. Challenged kid? No way this girl was challenged. On the contrary, she was challenging. If I could, I would leave, but leave a helpless little girl alone? But she wasn’t helpless, was she? “I am sorry I hurt him,” I said. “But I was worried he could hurt me.” “He could because he’s Frank. You shouldn’t spray him, though. He hates that.” “I don’t know if you need me, Olivia, since you can have Frank here, again…to…to keep you company.” “You might want to give me some ice-cream,” she said. “If you can create Frank, can’t you create ice-cream, too?” I asked. “No, I can only create monsters. The kitchen’s this way.” She took my hand again and pulled me through the long hallway into the kitchen. Amazing! This kitchen was a state of the art like the rest of the house. I found a dish, opened the freezer, and took out the ice-cream. “Isn’t it a bit late for ice-cream?” I asked while spooning it into the dish. “Daddy never lets me, but don’t tell him.” She stared at me thoughtfully. “I won’t tell him,” I said, tensing up. “That means you and I can be okay together. Can you read me a monster story, too?” “Sure,” I said. “Why not! After you finish your ice-cream, though.” “You’re nice,” she said. “Just because I sent Frank on you, you didn’t yell at me.” “No, I don’t yell at nice little girls.” She giggled. “I am not nice. You should see the dinosaur I made up for Mrs. Millett. She was my first-grade teacher, but I don’t go to school, anymore.” “What happened to Mrs. Millett?” “She decided to quit teaching. You can be my teacher if you wish. Daddy is looking for someone to homeschool me.” “Your daddy wouldn’t want me. I don’t have a license to teach,” I said. “But I’ll read you a bedtime story.” “A monster story!” She gave me an insistent glare. “Of course, Olivia,” I said. “Whatever you want.” Actually, teaching is my day job, but Olivia didn’t need to know that. |
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