My five year old niece, Ariana, was staying with me for the weekend.
She was asleep on the sofa beside me. I was working on my laptop, not really paying attention to the television. Mostly, it was soothing noise.
I smiled and brushed her cheek with my finger.
She brushed my hand away and turned on her side, still asleep.
I felt a sense of accomplishment that she’d drifted to sleep, even if it was only for an afternoon nap. I’d taken her to Santa’s Stop to buy Christmas decorations, to Cheeze E. Doodle’s for lunch, and later on a romp through the park with my dog, Scotty. Finally, she was tired enough to sleep.
Outside, the wind was blowing. Chimes sounded on the back porch.
It was the sound of the chimes that caught my attention and made me look. Something was moving outside, amongst the trees.
I stood slowly and walked over to the glass back door. I thought, maybe it was a trick of light.
My back yard stretches a half acre, and is fringed by trees. I was not sure just what it was that I had seen. But it wasn’t anything that was supposed to be back there.
Scotty whimpered, and made a running dive for his doghouse.
I looked up again and saw it clearly this time; a figure, a huge cut out, like a life sized poster . The mouth and eyes gaped open in a wide grin, white emptiness against black.
It moved, a liquid motion, from one side to another. Its mitten like hands were up in the air. There was a noise, like cloth rippling against a clothes line.
It was dancing.
I screamed.
“Auntie…” my niece called.
I looked at Ariana. She was okay. Roused from her sleep, she rubbed her eyes and stared at me.
“What’s wrong, Auntie?”
I looked back out into the yard.
Nothing.
Scotty peeked out of his doghouse, lifting his snout . He scanned the yard, wondering where the thing had went.
“Everything is okay,” I said, trying to hide the tremor in my voice. “How about I get you some juice, and I make myself a cup of tea? I need something to calm my nerves.”
It wasn’t until I came back with her juice box that I saw it crumpled on the floor; a paper cut out of a gingerbread man, which she’d held curled up in her palm as she slept.
©2009 Leila Asher
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December 11th, 2009 at 2:00 am
What a visceral story. Scary and well-written. Great stuff Leila.
December 11th, 2009 at 8:04 am
I think I’d keep that kid awake all weekend.
Good one!