Scribbles and Scrawls

by Bethany Votaw

  “Just a little.” Vi nodded. She took the eraser and finished erasing Donnie’s floating head. I hoped Toad was next.

  And the coughing stopped.

  4

  This Many

  He expected her to come walking back from the park with her feet stomping. Marching in her too-big sandals and hiking up her too-big shorts and a scowl on her cute, freckled face. But she didn’t. Instead, she came running up the street and bounding up the porch stairs wearing a smile as bright as the sun.

  She took big gulps from his jar of lemonade and settled in next to him in the lopsided porch swing. They watched the kids playing down the street, their laughter and screaming mixing with the summer birds chirping. There was a park at the end of the lane, and she was still catching her breath from her sprint back to the house.

  “You going to go back and play?” her dad asked, worried she would notice one of her hair ribbons missing from her braids. Then he worried someone stole it, again.

  “No, the birthday party is over now.” She shrugged.

  He was afraid to ask but did anyway. “Did you have fun? I mean, were these kids nice today?”

  “Yeah! The ice cream truck came, and we each got to pick something out!”

  He could see the remains of an ice cream sandwich on her lips. “It was Jenny’s birthday, right?”

  She nodded, hands in her pockets. She was so tiny, wearing hand-me-down clothes from her older cousin. She looked like a toddler despite being nearly seven.

  “How old is Jenny now?”

  “This many.” She pulled her hands from her pocket and held up six fingers.

  She had always been peculiar, but this made his blood freeze. Especially since he still hadn’t figured out where she found them or who they belonged to.

  5

  The Night Man

  There were three of them, which would become a problem down the road when having to split the grim, future task. But before all of that came about, three boys managed to capture the Night Man. At least his hand. It all started in the summer, because everything good started in summer. It ended in winter, because everything sinister ended in winter.

  They were busy throwing rocks into the river after church while their parents chatted and gossiped, sweat dripping down their temples, the scent of fresh-cut hay blowing around them. This was the best part of church, when the door of the stuffy sanctuary opened, and they could run down the steps and untuck their shirts and chuck rocks into the water, seeing who could make the biggest splash. The parents didn’t even care, too busy finding out who the father was or why Reba left her husband.

  “Where’s Reggie?” Jimmy asked.

  “I dunno,” Lenny said, throwing a rock into the water. He dug around in his pockets. “I got some of those soda crackers from the fellowship hall when my mom was grabbing her dishes from the potluck last week, want any?” He rationed the crackers to Mike and Jimmy, giving himself a little extra.

  “I heard Reggie’s sick,” Mike said, mouth full of cracker.

  “What do you mean?” Jimmy asked, wiping crumbs from his shirt and pushing his thick glasses higher on his nose. “It’s summer. Colds and flus only happen during the school year. Which is kind of convenient, if you think about it.”

  “That’s just what I heard my mom saying,” Mike said.

  “I heart it was a monster that did him in,” Lenny said, lowering his voice. “A monster got to him.”

  “Where the hell did you hear that?” Jimmy asked. He liked to sound tough and bold when someone was being especially ridiculous.

  But Mike wondered the same thing. He also wondered what it would be like to utter the word “hell” so close to church. “Yeah, what the hell?” It wasn’t that exciting.

  “Oh, it’s a monster all right.” The voice came from behind them, deeper, and it made them jump and spin on their heels.

  “Oh, what do you want?” Lenny asked. It was his older brother, Aaron, so he could talk to him like that.

  Aaron was tall and had his keys jangling in his pocket, the tip of a cigarette sticking out of the other pocket. He was popular and cool, a troublemaker in the sleepy town. Sometimes, late at night, you could hear him spin out, the tires of his car squealing and burning rubber as he sped through town. He pinched Lenny’s cheek. “Because, baby bro, I’ve seen it. I’ve touched the monster.”

  “The monster?” Jimmy asked, all “tough guy” gone from his voice. He sounded like the real nerd he was. His nasally voice didn’t help his cause. Neither did the fact that he carried a notebook and pen in his pocket.

  “It is a monster,” Aaron pulled out the cigarette and lit it.

  The boys were transfixed with the forbidden act. They were like cats, following the glow of the lighter and embers of the cigarette with their eyes. Mike wasn’t sure why he wanted to put one between his lips too.

  Aaron sucked on the cigarette and looked so damn cool. He went on, “See, it’s the monster trying to stop his heart.” He sucked in long and slow before he blew out the smoke. A wave of the stuff washed over Lenny, and he coughed. Aaron laughed before getting serious again. “It wanders the upper side of the earth, collecting hearts for Satan. An earthside devil.”

  Lenny snorted. “What are you really smoking?”

  Aaron stared with unblinking eyes at his little brother.

  Lenny shifted on his feet. “Seriously, I’m gonna tell Mom. What you got?”

  Aaron held the cigarette out to Lenny, who wrinkled his nose. Then he held it out to Jimmy, who took an involuntary step back. Then he held it out to Mike. Mike took it in his hand, and before he had a chance to succumb to fear, he put it between his lips and took a long swallow. And coughed and coughed and coughed.

  Aaron laughed. Lenny and Jimmy looked at him with a sense of awe. Worth it. That was why he was the leader. He did things they wouldn’t. He did them poorly, but to twelve and thirteen-year-olds, doing things poorly was significantly more important than talking about doing things. Action, messy and stupid action, was always better than inaction. Mike focused on his eyes not watering and tried to ignore the burning in his throat and chest.

  Arron still laughed and pulled the rest of the cigarette before stomping it out under his boot, looking back at the church. “That’s what it feels like when the Night Man comes for you.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?” Lenny asked, trying to get back some authority he’d lost when he snubbed the cigarette.

  Aaron smacked Lenny’s head. “Don’t let Mama catch you using that language.”

  Lenny rubbed his head. Jimmy, the scholar wannabe, finally piped up. “But who is the Night Man, and what about hearts?”

  Aaron smiled a wide grin. “The Night Man. He once was an angel—”

  “So was Satan,” Jimmy said.

  “Do you wanna know or what?” Aaron snapped.

  The boys nodded.

  “What happened to Reggie?” Mike asked.

  “What almost happened to me. And you all.” Aaron pulled another cigarette out but didn’t light it. “The Night Man belongs to Satan now. Some say he was tricked by Satan into joining him. But the Night Man wanted to go back to wherever—heaven or the celestial realm or wherever those things live. But Satan wouldn’t let him. Not until he provided Satan and his devils with a hundred thousand frozen hearts. The hearts are like souls, only better, and harder to get. So that’s what the Night Man does. He comes at night and reaches into the chests of little children and plucks out their hearts. They don’t recover. They die in the hospital with names like pneumonia or colic. He preys on the weak ones, trying to collect as many hearts as he can. The little ones are easier.” He jabbed Jimmy in the side and made him jump. “They don’t squirm as much.”

  “You’re full of shit,” Lenny laughed.

  “Am I?” Aaron asked, eyebrows raised. “I’ve felt him reach inside my bones and try and wiggle my heart loose. Are you sure he hasn’t tried to go after your heart?” He pointed to Mike. “Just
ask your pal Mikey here, he’ll tell you.”

  “Well, Mike?” Jimmy asked.

  Lenny crossed his hands over his chest and tried to look big. He always tried to look big when Aaron was around.

  Mike nodded. “Yeah, I felt him once. And I’m pretty sure he’s after my little brother.”

  Mike thought his little brother would get stronger. But he didn’t. Little Andy grew pale and thin despite the summer sun and fresh air. When fall came, he began to look more like the skeletons decorating the yards.

  “The doctors don’t know why he’s been feeling so poorly,” Mike’s mom said into the phone. “Yeah, they think he will outgrow it. They said he probably needed more milk in his diet. Takes after his father I guess, weak stomach.”

  Milk wouldn’t do shit. Andy woke each night, screaming and yelping and tearing at his chest. His skin was always so cold.

  Mike took to sleeping less. Forcing himself awake and forcing himself to peer down from the top bunk to make sure no figure (other than his own) lingered over Andy. Mike caught him once. The Night Man. He had his hand clear in Andy’s chest, and Mike was sure the monster would have pulled little Andy’s heart loose if Mike hadn’t yelled out, jumping down from the top of the bunk bed and making a loud crash.

  Mom and Dad said he needed to act like the big kid. Nightmares were just for little kids. The walking nightmare wandered the streets at night, through walls, and through skin.

  “We gotta stop him,” Mike said at the church harvest party. “The Night Man won’t give up on Andy. It’s only a matter of time now.”

  “I don’t think this is real,” Jimmy said, stuffing his mouth with a caramel apple.

  Lenny talked through a mouthful of popcorn. “I don’t know. Aaron hasn’t told me the joke is up. And he usually does when I pester him enough. And trust me, I’ve been pestering. And Reggie…”

  Reggie died that summer, infection in his lung or something.

  “So, what are you gonna do?” Jimmy asked, rubbing a smudge from his glasses.

  “We are gonna catch the Night Man.” And Mike suddenly craved a cigarette and smoke in his lungs.

  “Do we have to do this?” Jimmy asked from his spot on the closet floor. He pushed the glasses up on his nose with a quivering hand.

  “Of course we do,” Mike said. His voice wobbled, but his resolve held firm.

  “Yeah,” said Lenny from his place under the bed. He pushed his baseball cap farther on his head, swatting dust bunnies away. “We gotta do it. You’re not gonna chicken out now, tough guy?”

  “It’s not my brother,” Jimmy mumbled. He sank back into the shadows of the closet, clutching the flashlight with both hands like a weapon.

  “No, it isn’t.” Mike gripped his own flashlight tight in his hand, an ax in the other. He pointed it at Jimmy. “But when he gets Andy, then what? He’ll come after you. You’re probably the next smallest one here. Weak too. You always get a cold. You probably have one starting now. Then it’ll be Lenny and me after that.”

  Jimmy swallowed hard and nodded.

  “You know what to do?” Mike asked.

  Jimmy nodded, clicked on the flashlight, and shined it on the silent little boy sitting in bed watching the older boys squabble. Little Andy had dark eyes and swallowed down a yawn.

  “And you?” Mike pointed to Lenny, covered in dust he kicked loose under the bed. Lenny nodded and tapped the baseball bat at his side

  Mike swallowed hard and nodded to his brother. “Now, don’t tell Mom what we are doing, okay, Andy? It’s real important she don’t know.”

  Andy nodded and settled under his blankets, trying to get warm before the cold came. The cold always came.

  Mike hung back in the shadows. He needed to stand. Sitting would mean falling asleep, and that would mean him. Then the Night Man would push his bony fingers between the child’s ribs and take hold of the beating heart. The Nightman would hold Andy’s heart until it froze, another one collected to pay off his debt.

  But now I’m here, Mike thought. The hours ticked on.

  The cold seeped through the walls, Mike thought he felt the Night Man’s exhale. The Night Man had come for him once. He had woken to find the finger stuck in his chest, for only a moment, before the Night Man pulled his hand from his ribs and fled. Sometimes he woke to a cold ache in his chest, and he was left wondering if he’d escaped death once more.

  He’d felt the Night Man’s presence more than once—which is why he recognized him when the monster crept through the window. The Night Man leaned over the bed where Andy slept, a thin, grey arm poised over the little boy’s ribs.

  Now, Mike thought—willing Jimmy to grow a pair and shine the light. Do it now.

  The Night Man withdrew a hand from his cloak, and his long fingers hovered over Andy. Now! Mike screamed in his mind. The Night Man’s icy fingers plunged into Andy’s chest and slipped through his ribs. As Mike let out a scream, Jimmy’s light shone from the closet.

  The Night Man paused for only a moment—but it was enough. Mike used light as his target, and he slashed the arm where it rested with that blunt ax he had stolen from the woodpile out back. And the Night Man howled like a banshee and fled.

  The severed hand rested on Andy. Mike took the thing, it didn’t even bleed, and hurled it to the ground. It was like a block of ice.

  “Yuck!” Lenny said, crawling awkwardly from under the bed, giving the hand a wide berth.

  “Where were you?” Mike hissed.

  “Fell asleep.” Lenny shrugged.

  “You idiot—”

  “Is it gone?” Andy asked from his little nest in bed.

  “We got ‘em,” Mike said, a big smile on his face.

  The boys tore into the night—racing through the cornfields and howling at the moon.

  “What should we do with it?” Jimmy asked, pointing to the shoe box containing the Night Man’s hand.

  “We burn it!” Lenny said, drunk on victory. “What better way to get rid of ice than with fire?”

  “Burn it with what?” Jimmy asked.

  Lenny smiled. “With fire.”

  “Well, no shit,” Mike said. The idea was sounding better. The shoebox in his hands grew colder by the minute.

  “I know a spot,” Lenny said, and after more whoops and hollers they found themselves on a dead-end road, gravel and leaves crunching under their feet.

  “Where’d you get the lighter?” Jimmy asked.

  Lenny shrugged. “Aaron.”

  At times, Lenny’s memory of events and what actually happened intertwined with the stories of his older brother, creating a fast-paced and adventurous life of his own. But Lenny had never smoked a cigarette. He’d never stolen a candy from the drug store. But sometimes he forgot that he was boring and used his cool older brother as a smokescreen.

  Jimmy kicked the gravel flat, and Mike placed that cardboard box on the ground.

  “Do you want to do it?” Lenny held the lighter out to Mike, his brother’s mischievous energy and bravery gone.

  Mike cleared his throat. No, he thought. “Yes,” he said.

  He settled next to the shoe box, not daring to open it again. Instead, he set the corner on fire. It took a few tries (he had never used a lighter) and the trio had to stand close to block the wind, but it eventually lit. And it burned. And somewhere deep in the woods, a scream of the Night Man made the birds scatter.

  Mike laughed nervously. Lenny did too. Jimmy stared wide-eyed into the forest.

  “Hey,” Lenny said. “Want one?” He held up three cigarettes.

  “Aaron’s gonna kill you,” Mike said, a smile creeping onto his face.

  Lenny shrugged again. “At least we got the Night Man.”

  “Mike,” Lenny whispered from the pew behind him at church. “I don’t know what to do.” Lenny’s eyes were craters in his head, dark circles framing them.

  “Later,” Mike whispered, chewing his lip all through the hallelujahs and hymns.

  Jimmy jumped eve
ry time the organ started, his eyes never still.

  The trio met at the same spot they had that summer, after the hymns were sung and the mothers gathered, anxious for their vice. Gossip. Some stole a smoke, maybe a sip out of the little flask hidden in the glove compartment of the truck.

  The wind howled, and it looked like rain. The frozen river was gnarled and cracked, much like the Night Man’s hands. The vices would be cut short today, which was a shame. Indulging in vices didn’t count at church.

  “I don’t know what to do—” Lenny’s eyes darted about. “I hear him all the time—I feel him. I can’t explain it.”

  “We have to fix this,” Mike said.

  “How?” Jimmy asked. “What can we do?”

  * * *

  They met at the same place they burned the hand. Their desperation for an answer made them bold. Even Jimmy didn’t question Mike when it was suggested they sneak out as soon as it got dark.

  “It’s like he follows me,” Jimmy said, his usual slight frame even more narrow. The wind could have blown him away if it tried hard enough. “I’m cold, all the time. So cold. I’m never warm.”

  “I’m always tired.”

  “I’m always hungry. Thirsty.”

  “I’m always afraid.”

  Mike understood it all too well. The cold of the night had settled in his bones and never left. The hunger in his body only grew fiercer. Food turned to ice in his mouth. But Andy was okay.

  “What do we do?” Lenny asked.

  Mike swallowed hard. “We ask the Night Man.”

  “What?” Jimmy’s eyes scanned the gravel road, only illuminated by the light of the moon. It’s like the stars were hiding from them.

  Mike swore he could still smell the ash of the burning box and hand.

  “Why would he be here?” Jimmy asked.