One of Us

by Samie Sands

  “What do you want, Little Man, a sister or a brother?”

  He shrugged and said, “It don’t matter. I will love either one.”

  “That’s my boy!” Guy interrupted him, “So grown up now!”

  Davey stuck out his chest and felt good at the praise.

  He watched as his mother’s belly grew and grew. It looked like a large basketball filling her up! He smiled at the thought.

  “When? When? When will the baby come out?”

  “My goodness! So eager, aren’t we? Actually, Doc Maynard said it will be sooner than we expected. Probably by early June.”

  “Wow!” Davey could hardly wait.

  June first was the day his little sister Abby arrived. When she was brought home, Davey couldn’t stop staring at her. Wow! A real live, little person came out of his momma’s belly. It was a miracle! Suddenly, Davey felt very protective of his baby sister and thought, maybe I am growing up!

  NOW, THOUGH, AS DAVEY stood watching the street from his upstairs window, he thought I am not going to the picnic this year. ‘Cause if I do, the last clown will get me!It will get me for sure!

  Davey marched downstairs and into the kitchen where his parents were getting Abby ready for her first picnic, then announced, “I’m not going this time. I’m nine now and I have to make some decisions for myself!”

  June and Guy swung their heads in his direction.

  His dad said, “All right, Son. This year, you’re off the hook!”

  A smile of disbelief spread across Davey’s face.

  Guy went on to say, “We’ll be busy showing off our new bundle of joy anyway, won’t we, June?”

  “Now Guy, stop trying to make Davey jealous...”

  “I’m not jealous one bit!” he said. Just glad to stay home, miss this picnic...

  His parents and baby sister went out the door and then he heard the car drive away.

  Whew! Saved! Davey got busy. He mowed the front lawn, clipped some hedges and low bushes, thought about straightening up the garage, but that was too much work, so he settled in the living room to watch some television, complete with some popcorn and pop. Good! Wrestling is on.

  Davey’s parents came back around six o’clock, all happy and sun-tanned. Luckily, they brought home some hotdogs and potato salad for a light dinner. Davey was starving and so he dove into the food with enthusiasm.

  After Abby was put to bed and Davey had brushed his teeth, his mom came in to say good night.

  Davey looked at her reflection through the mirror and asked, “Was there only one clown?”

  June nodded, “Yes. One clown,” she barely whispered.

  “Did it touch anyone, a kid?”

  “I didn’t watch! I couldn’t watch!” She turned swiftly and headed downstairs.

  Before hopping into bed, Davey did his usual thing; he spread the sheer curtains apart and looked down. There––across the street––a clown!

  In the dim light from the streetlamp, he couldn’t quite make out which color he was, but guessed he was in green. The clown moved further into the light. Yes, it was the green frilled clown with the same colored curly wig!

  Fear clutched at his heart, as an invisible hand squeezed it and constricted his throat. He couldn’t make a sound, couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t tear his eyes away from the figure, half-hidden in shadows.

  As he was about to pass out from lack of oxygen, the clown gave a little wave with a white gloved hand, then disappeared.

  Davey slid down to the floor, grabbing hold of the windowsill to prevent hurting himself, and fought for his breath. Large gasps emitted from his mouth, as tears flowed freely. Sweat bathed his pajamas, and soon he was soaking wet.

  Davey crawled across the floor, pulled himself up to slip between cool, soothing sheets of his single bed. There he huddled, clutching rough blankets around him and shivered, until the greyness of morning filtered in through the filmy curtains of the window.

  “Davey, is something wrong?” his mother asked when Davey came downstairs. “You look like you haven’t slept at all!” She felt his forehead for some indication.

  “You don’t have a fever...” Just then Guy entered the kitchen.

  Switching his eyes between the two faces, concern furrowed his brow.

  “Is something wrong? Davey, you don’t look so hot. Are you sick?”

  Davey pounced on this explanation. “Yeah, I don’t feel good.”

  “Well, you just stay home and take care of yourself, okay Son?”

  “Yes, I will, Dad.”

  After his dad left for the day, Davey gathered up enough nerve to finally say something to his mother. He took in a deep breath and said, “Mom, I saw a clown last night...across the street. I looked out my window, like I always do and he was out there; across the street! He’s waiting for me! Waiting for me ‘cause I didn’t go to the parade this time!” A deep sob escaped his throat.

  “Oh, Son!” June hugged him tightly for a few minutes, then drew back to look him directly in the face.

  “Honey, you simply had a bad dream last night. You were thinking of how you got out of seeing the clown this year and so now your subconscious built on it, making for a very scary, unreal dream. Do you understand?”

  “But Mommy, he was real! As real as you are–– standing right here in front of me!” His eyes filled with more tears.

  June hugged him again and said, “I know how nightmares can seem so real to us, but I assure you, there was no clown outside your window last night. Okay?”

  Davey gulped, swallowed the lump in his throat, and nodded. He wiped the remaining tears from his cheeks with the back of his hand. She had convinced him.

  No clown outside! Just a terrible nightmare.

  That night, Davey’s parents appeared concerned about his little sister.

  He heard his mother say, “She has a slight fever, but it’s not high enough to worry about...yet.”

  Guy said, “If she’s not better by morning, we’ll check with Doc, okay?”

  “Sounds like a plan,” June answered.

  Then they all retired for the night.

  No, no! I will not look out my window tonight. I will not! ‘Cause there is no clown out there. No clown! Davey said over and over again, to himself.

  After several minutes of shivering between cold sheets, he was somehow soaked in sweat, anyway. Although he sat there with eyes squeezed shut, Davey ultimately gave in to the overwhelming urge to look! Just a quick peek, to reassure himself. There’s no clown outside Mommy said so!

  Slowly, reluctantly, he drew the flimsy curtains aside and gazed across the street. It’s there! He could no longer convince himself that it is a man dressed in a clown suit. It stood directly beneath the streetlight this time, so Davey could get a real good look at it. White baggy suit with green ruffles, green curly mop on its head. It was staring upward at him, grinning––evil written all over his face. Davey shivered as fear trickled down his spine.

  Just as before––he couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe! He figured he was going to die––right there at the window, staring down at the street where the apparition of the clown stood.

  A bad dream, his mother said. Nothing but a bad dream, the kind where your legs won’t move...or anything else for that matter. GONNA DIE RIGHT HERE!

  Trying to swallow the huge lump stuck in his throat, Davey watched as the clown moved its arm as if it was beckoning to him, its arm making large arcs, urging him to come to it! Over and over, beckoning, beckoning...Davey watched until finally, it stopped, glared up at the frightened small boy in the window, and swirled around into a sudden gathering mist and disappeared.

  Another sleepless night for Davey.

  “You still don’t look very well, Davey,” his dad remarked, when Davey finally dragged himself downstairs the next morning.

  “I’ll make you some tea and toast, Son. You stay home and get some rest. We’re taking Abby to the doctor’s right now. She has a fever and is not well, at all. She thr
ew up this morning,” his mother added.

  Davey nodded in agreement. He didn’t want to worry them any more than they already were. Maybe he would mention the nightmare of the clown again to his mom, later in the day. Then again...maybe not.

  It was still so real to him, that he couldn’t shake the apparition from his fuzzy mind. After they left, Davey curled up with a blanket on the living room couch, in front of the television and dozed off immediately.

  He slept fitfully, thrashing and yelling aloud in his sleep, until the loud jangle of the phone woke him up. He mumbled, “Wha––?”

  The phone. Okay. He crawled to the end of the couch and lifted the receiver.

  “Hello,” he croaked. Cleared his throat and said a little louder, “Hello?”

  It was his mom. “Son, we will be home later. They are admitting Abby. They think she may have the flu or something and want to keep her overnight to keep an eye on her.”

  “Okay, Mom” Davey yawned loudly. “I’m sorry if I woke you, Honey,”“‘S’okay,” he replied.

  “If you’re hungry, just snoop in the fridge, or open up a can of soup from the pantry,” June sounded anxious.

  “Okay, Mom. Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine,” he said with false bravado. “Just take care of

  Abby. Kiss her for me.”

  “Okay, Son. Love you.”

  “I love you too, Mom,” he whispered, then hung up the phone.

  Why did he feel so scared? He’d been home alone lots of times.

  Davey scrambled into the kitchen and looked for something to eat. He satisfied himself by preparing some chicken noodle soup and a Spam sandwich, with a glass of milk that rounded off his dinner.

  He thought, more television, something stupid that would be funny––take his mind off...He munched away. This was the only time he could get away with eating in the living room, as there was no one there to yell at him for it.

  It was now after dark––past eight o’clock and they weren’t home yet! Come home! Come home! I can’t take it here all by myself! Not when there is a green clown waiting for me outside! Please, please!

  He just about leapt out of his skin when the phone rang again. He raced for it, nearly dropping it as he frantically held it to his ear.

  “I thought I’d better call so you won’t worry about us, Davey,” his mom said. “Are you okay, did you eat something?”

  “Yes, Mom. When will you be home?” He practically yelled the words, got hold of himself and said more calmly, “Are you coming home soon? I don’t like it here by myself.”

  “Yes, Davey, we will be home soon, but they’ll be keeping Abby. Her fever has not gone down, as yet. I thought perhaps we might stay overnight with her, if it’s okay with you...? Mrs. James, from next door, could look in on you from time to time.”

  “NO! I mean, no, please come home.” He felt like such a baby, begging her like this, but he really couldn’t take another minute living with such deep, wrenching fear.

  “I understand, Davey. Bad dreams again? We’re on our way.”

  He let out such a huge breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding, until she agreed to return home to him. Mom understands––sort of.

  After his parents arrived back home and had gone to bed, Davey did his best to resist the urge to gaze out the window; where he knew the clown waited for him. Not a dream, Mom, not a nightmare! He pinched himself on his arm. Ouch! I am wide-awake, not in bed, not dreaming.

  He pulled the curtains aside.

  Davey started to cry out, but managed to cover his mouth with his hands, hands that trembled so violently, it’s a wonder they obeyed his command. The green clown stood closer this time, still beckoning him, over and over, its wicked red grin spreading threateningly over its ghoulish white face. It took a few more steps, with its large floppy shoes slapping on the pavement of the street. Closer...closer.

  Get away! Go away! No matter what you do, I’m not coming out! I won’t go with you!

  In the center of the street, the clown stopped. It wiggled a finger at him like a warning, or something sinister he planned for him. It turned, and like before, left in a whirl of fog––no longer there. The empty street gaped blankly at him, seeming to wait– –and wait.

  Davey felt like his life was about to shatter around him, and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it! He didn’t mean to curse, but this was a special occasion. He turned and quickly crawled deep into the covers of his bed, where he shivered uncontrollably. He was so drained of energy that he finally fell asleep toward morning, just when his mother poked her head into his room.

  “Hey, Sleepyhead, we’re off to the hospital. You sleep some more and I’ll call you soon with some news. Don’t worry. We won’t be gone all day, this time.”

  Davey tried valiantly to rise, but felt too weak. He wanted to say that he’d get up, get dressed, and go with them, but couldn’t. His sleepless nights were catching up to him, draining all his strength.

  He slumped back down. “Okay, Mom. See you later...”

  He heard her voice as it trailed off, “I don’t know what’s wrong with these doctors, Guy! They say there is no earthly reason for Abby’s illness. She just gets worse and worse. What will we do if we lose her?”

  He fell asleep at once; didn’t even hear the door close.

  It was mid-afternoon when the ringing of the phone clanged through a dream in which he roamed the hallways of the hospital, trying to find the room where his little sister lay ill. In his dream, Abby was on her deathbed. His heart was trying to beat its way out of his rib cage and his legs were so rubbery, he could barely stand. He clung to the walls as he teetered this way and that.

  Brrrriiinnnngggg, went the phone again.

  “Okay, okay!” Davey shook the sleep from his mind and rose to answer the phone.

  He grumped all the way down the stairs to the phone in the kitchen.

  “Hello? That you, Mom? When are you coming home? How’s Abby?”

  A small nervous voice said, “I’m not your

  Mom.”

  “Who are you then?”

  “Timothy.”

  “Timothy, who? I don’t know any Timothy.” Davey was still trying to shake off cobwebs of sleep and was not truly awake yet.

  “Timothy. You know, from your class...?”

  Suddenly Davey was wide-awake. “But you’re missing! Or dead. Or something! Where are you?”

  “That doesn’t matter.”

  Davey detected fear, or dread, in the boy’s voice.

  Timothy went on, “He wants you to come out to him...NOW!” A sob broke through Timothy’s weak voice. He sounded so far away.

  “I won’t! Tell him that!”

  Silence echoed through the phone lines creating an eerie quiet.

  Timothy came back on line. “He says that if you don’t come out now and come to him, he will be forced to go to the hospital and take your little sister, instead.”

  “What? What? No! He can’t do that! Not my baby sister!” Davey yelled.

  “Then come out.” As Timothy’s voice was growing faint, his words seemed to echo inside Davey’s head...Come out...come out...

  Davey, now filled with complete terror, stood immobile, like a stone statue, unable to move.

  Weak-kneed, he slid to the floor.

  “Hurry up! You don’t have much time! He says he is going to the hospital for little Abby––right now!” Another sob escaped the boy’s mouth.

  Davey heard his father’s voice speaking somewhere in his head, “Grow up, Son, act like a man!” Then, he imagined his mother’s voice, “My Little Man.”

  “...no earthly reason for her illness...” also played over and over in his mind.

  “Okay, Dad,” Davey whispered. For you and for Mom, for Abby...

  Davey Mansfield rose up from the floor where he’d been sitting, unaware of how he got there, and walked robotically to the back door, knowing that the clown would be out there waiting for him. He turned the knob
; opened the door, slowly and reluctantly, then stumbled across the porch, out into the yard.

  Slingshot pulled furiously at the bottom of his pajama pants, trying to stop him, but soon ceased, perhaps realizing it was no use. The dog retreated underneath the back porch, whimpered then began a mournful howl.

  Then, from out of the shadows just beneath the shade of the maple tree in the corner of the yard, Davey saw him. He was transfixed within the power of the dead slate eyes. Davey turned, then walked toward it. The clown held out one of his white gloved hands that revealed only three bulging fingers.

  Obediently, Davey took that hand in his and the two of them disappeared into the thick, icy fog.

  Lila L. Pinord

  Lila L. Pinord was born and raised in a small Native American fishing village called Queets, a part of the greater Quinault Indian Nation along the coast of Washington State. Because of this, many of her own experiences and knowledge of reservation life, such as myths, legends and superstitions of her people, are included in her writings.

  She attended Grays Harbor College in Aberdeen, Washington for a year, got married, then later went on to Peninsula College in Port Angeles, majoring in secretarial. From there, Lila attended Western Washington University and gained a degree in accounting. However, writing has always been her first love, and she continues it in Port Angeles, WA where she lives now.

  Website: http:// lilalpinord.bravehost.com

  Email: lilapinord @ yahoo.com

  Ghost

  Jonny Graham

  I ran down the dark wet street, I could see my destination at the far end. It was an old block of flats, its tall perimeter fence crowned with barbed wire. Even from this distance, I could make out the familiar dirty white sheet hanging from the roof and swaying in the wind. It had been there as long as I could remember. It used to read ‘HELP’, but a recent storm had ripped away the ‘P’.

  Behind me, I could hear the voices growing louder and frustrated. Up ahead a mess of long-abandoned rusted cars littered the street. I threw a glance over my shoulder and saw the beam of a flashlight some way behind, back at the last corner. I relaxed a little. These bandits were slow and I certainly had the pace on them. A bullet zipped past me and impacted with a ping into the twisted metal of an old motor home on my right. I may have had the pace, but they had the guns.