Archives

Characters

AMBER, an ambitious 18-year-old

who dreams of being a beautician.

ATTENDANT, a woman in her

late fifties who works as the

restroom attendant of a five-star

Italian restaurant.

MAN/RICHARD, a forty to fifty-

year-old man who pays young

AMBER to keep him company.

PREGNANT WOMAN

 

(A young woman around twenty, Amber, storms into the bathroom of what seems to be a gourmet restaurant. There is a restroom attendant leaning against the wall, she is in her early sixties. There is a cart next to the attendant with a jar labeled TIPS, a small bowl of mints, a stack of hand towels, the woman’s large purse, and an old picture frame with two newlyweds inside it. Amber slams down on the granite countertops before looking up at herself in the mirror. (All dialogue of AMBER, ATTENDANT, and MANAGER in a New York accent.))

 

AMBER

Shit.

(She turns on the sink and splashes some water on her face, then heads toward a paper towel dispenser near the attendant. The ATTENDANT sticks out her arms, offering up a linen towel.)

 

ATTENDANT

Here. Those paper towels from the dispensers? Rough as sandpaper. You’ll scratch that pretty face right up.

 

AMBER

Thanks.

                        (She blots her face with towel before handing it back to the attendant.)

 

ATTENDANT

                        (Pulling AMBER’s hand up to her face.)

Good God almighty! What a rock ya got there, huh? You got a real keeper on your hands.

 

AMBER

                        (Pulling away quickly and taking off the ring.)

You don’t know the half of it.

 

ATTENDANT

I guess I don’t.

AMBER

                        (She stares at the ring in her hands, proceeding to scratch it against the mirror.)

Of course.

 

ATTENDANT

What?

 

AMBER

It’s real. I knew it would be, I’m just lookin’ for a damn excuse at this point…

 

ATTENDANT

Are you tryin’ to tell me that you’re over here, hollerin’, because that thing is real? Never in my life,kid. Never in my life have I seen such a—

 

                                                                        AMBER

I don’t want it! I don’t want the ring, okay?

                        (Looking down. Long pause.)

                                                                       

ATTENDANT

You goin’ back out there anytime soon?

 

AMBER

No. I mean, I dunno. 

 

ATTENDANT

Well, it seems like it’s just you ‘n me then.

 

AMBER

So?

 

ATTENDANT

So nothin’ I guess.

                        (AMBER sits up on the bathroom calendar and picks at her nails.)

Mint?

                        (AMBER nods her head. ATTENDANT tosses her a mint from a small bowl on the cart next to her.)

 

AMBER

(Pointing to the picture on the cart.)

That you?

                                                                       

ATTENDANT

Me an’ my husband. Well, late.

                                                                       

AMBER

Oh. I’m real sorry, uh, I didn’t mean to––

 

ATTENDANT

It’s not like ya knew.

(Looks down.)

 

AMBER

How long were you two together?

 

ATTENDANT

Long time kid, long time. ‘Bout 39 years.

 

AMBER

Wow.

 

ATTENDANT

Wow just ‘bout sums it up.

 

AMBER

I dunno if I could do it.

 

ATTENDANT

Do what?

 

 AMBER

Ya know, the whole thing. Bein’ with someone for that long. Just seems like you’d be sick of ‘em.

 

ATTENDANT

You got it all wrong there. Every day is somethin’ new, when you’re in love like that.

 

AMBER

Yea, I guess so.

 

ATTENDANT

(Pointing to AMBER’s ring.)

That why you’re throwin’ a fit over that thing? Scared you’re gonna get bored?

 

AMBER

I’m not just gonna dump all my baggage on you, lady.

 

ATTENDANT

Why not? I got nothin’ better to do. And if ya feel so inclined, throw a tip in my jar. We’ll call it even.

 

 AMBER

Ehhh I dunno.

 

ATTENDANT

C’mon, I’m old! Life’s boring when you’re old. Gimme somethin’ that’ll bring me back.

 

AMBER

Ya promise you won’t say a word ‘bout this? Not to anyone?

 

 ATTENDANT

Not a soul.

AMBER

Alright. Wait, no, you know what, forget it. It’s stupid and I’m not gonna bother ya with it.

                                                                                                                      

ATTENDANT

I’m sure it ain’t stupid if you’re this wound up ‘bout it.

                       (AMBER looks at her, unsure.)

Who would I have to tell anyway?

 

AMBER

(Sitting herself up on the countertop.)

Alright. So I’m tryi’n’ to put myself through cosmetology school cause I’m real good at makeup and hair and all, but my parents refuse to drop a dime on it. They say it’s a ‘waste of my potential’. Bull. I ain’t never been good at anything else, but hair and makeup? That’s all me.

 

ATTENDANT

Ya got a nice face, kid, no need for any ‘a that makeup.

 

AMBER

Well, thanks a lot. But that’s not the point. Point is, I’m puttin’ myself through school on my own, so I need money, right? And my roommate, she told me ‘bout this ‘escort’ service. She said all I had to do was go out to dinner with this one guy, keep him company, and I could make a couple hundred bucks.

 

 ATTENDANT

Uh, oh.

 

AMBER

So I’m out with this guy, and he’s like 40, maybe 50. Real nice fella, good at keepin’ conversation ‘n all. We finish up eatin’ and he asks me how much I charge on the hour. And I says a hundred on the hour and ya know what he says?

 

ATTENDANT

What’s he say?

 

AMBER

He says, “You’re worth a lot more than that, sweetheart.”

 

ATTENDANT

Oh you’re really in trouble now.

AMBER

But I needed the money! And he kept payin’ me more ‘n more every time I went out with him and then one day I told him ‘bout my school and how I gotta pay for it all by myself and the guy just writes me a check! And ya know he says?

 

ATTENDANT

What’s he say?

 

AMBER

He says, “There’s more where that came from.”

 

ATTENDANT

You really got yourself into a mess now didn’t ya.

 

AMBER

Yeah.

 (Beat.)

 

ATTENDANT

So that ring’s from him?

 (AMBER nods.)

You gonna go through with it?

AMBER

I dunno.

 

ATTENDANT

Do ya love him?

 

AMBER

What?

 

ATTENDANT

You heard me, I said do ya love him?

 

AMBER

Course not.

 

ATTENDANT

Well then what else is there to know?

 

AMBER

He’s payin’ for my school. And my rent, too. If tell him no, he’s gonna cut me—

 (Knocks on the bathroom door.)

 

MAN’S VOICE

Amber, darling, are you in there? What’s taking you so long?

 (AMBER looks wide-eyed at the attendant.)

 

ATTENDANT

Uh, yea sir, she’s feelin’ a little under the weather. Somethin’ to do with her food, we think. Uhhh, ya see, there are lots of people gettin’ sick ‘round here lately and—

 

MAN’S VOICE

But we didn’t even begin our meal. There’s no way she could’ve gotten sick.

 

ATTENDANT

(Whispering.)

He didn’t even buy you somethin’ to eat yet?

(AMBER shakes her head.)

A drink?

(AMBER shakes her head.)

 

ATTENDANT

Jesus H.

 

MAN’S VOICE

What was that?

 

AMBER

I’ll be out soon. I’m just feelin’ sick that’s all. Go ‘head back to the table, hon.

 

MAN’S VOICE

Alright well, hurry back. We’ve got big plans to discuss!

 

ATTENDANT

Seems nice to me.

 

AMBER

He is! I’m tellin’ ya, he’s a good guy, he, I, I just—

 

ATTENDANT

Don’t love him?

 

AMBER

No. But the money…

 

ATTENDANT

Look, kid, ya just gotta figure out what makes ya happy.

 

AMBER

Beauty school. That’s it; it’s where I wanna be. It’s where I’m meant to be. I mean, I can just feel it, I know I’m good enough I really do.

 

ATTENDANT

Then what’s stoppin’ ya? Go on back to school and forget about this guy! He’s grown man for God’s sake– he can handle it.

 

AMBER

No, but I can’t! I gotta pay for school and I already quit my old job cleanin’ apartments and there’s just no way I could–

 

ATTENDANT

Did you say cleanin’?

 

AMBER

Yeah? Why what’s it to ya? I needed quick cash, alright.

 

ATTENDANT

And I’m one to judge? Do you see what I’m workin’ as?

 

AMBER

Oh, right. Wait, so why do ya care?

 

ATTENDANT

I got an idea kid, and I think it could work.

 

AMBER

What is it?

 

ATTENDANT

So what if—

(A pregnant woman walks into the bathroom, glances at AMBER and ATTENDANT, and walks into a stall. AMBER and ATTENDANT awkwardly wait for the woman to finish using the bathroom and wash her hands. ATTENDANT picks up the bowl of mints and puts them in front of the woman.)

Mint?

 

PREGNANT WOMAN

Uh, no thank you.

(ATTENDANT swaps mint bowl for tip jar, extends the tip jar and smiles cheesily. PREGNANT WOMAN sneers and exits.)

 

AMBER

My God, did ya catch the bump on that lady?

 

ATTENDANT

That thing was ‘bout the size of Manhattan itself!

 

AMBER

(Laughing lightly.)

Yeah, it was, wasn’t it?

(Her smile fades into a troubled expression as she looks down.)

Do you, I mean, have you… ever?     

 

ATTENDANT

No.

 

AMBER

How come?

 

ATTENDANT

Couldn’t. Just wasn’t made up like that I guess.

 

AMBER

Oh. Sorry.

 

ATTENDANT

Yeah.

 (Beat.)

You alright kid?                                                               

 

AMBER

(Clearing her throat.)

Yeah, yeah. I’m fine.

 

ATTENDANT

Don’t seem fine to me.

 (AMBER reaches into her pocket and pulls out the ring, fiddling with it.)

Ya know, Daddy Warbucks is still out there waitin’ for ya.

 

AMBER

Ya think? At this point he mighta just left.

(Puts the ring back into her pocket.)

 

ATTENDANT

Maybe. Maybe not, though. Only way to find out is to go out there yourself.

 

MAN’S VOICE

(Knocks heavily.)

Amber? Amber, darling, how are you feeling? I’m getting quite worried about you.

(AMBER and ATTENDANT make eye contact, ATTENDANT shrugs.)

Amber? Are you even in there? Hello! I’m coming in there right this-

 

AMBER

(Walks over and swings open the door.)

Hi.

 

MAN

Oh, hello. I was so terribly worried that you had run off, or were sick, or that you couldn’t find our table, or maybe that-

 

AMBER

I’m all good and fine. Now, let’s go back out there and order somethin’ to eat, I’m starvin’.

 

MAN

That sounds just wonder- wait. Did you take off your ring?

 

AMBER

Oh it’s right here I just–

                       

MAN

But why would you take it off at all? Does it not fit? Is it too big? I told the man you were a lean seven, not a six and a half!

 

                                                                        AMBER

No, no it fits fine I just–

 

MAN

Then what is it? Have you changed your mind already?

 

AMBER

I can explain–

 

ATTENDANT

No. I can explain.

 

MAN

Mind your own business, maid.

 

ATTENDANT

(To AMBER.)

And you think he’s nice?

 

MAN

(To AMBER.)

What?

 

AMBER

I–

 

ATTENDANT                                                        

No, ya know what sir last time I checked you’re some poor excuse of a man, and this is the ladies room, so if you could so kindly get the hell outta here that would be just great.

 

MAN

What gives you the audacity to–

(To AMBER.)

Do you know her?

 

AMBER

Yeah, well, no, I mean–

 

ATTENDANT

Excuse me, sir, I don’t think you heard me the first time. Get outta my restroom. Now.

 

MAN

(Grabbing AMBER’s arm aggressively.)

Come on, Amber, we’re going.

 

ATTENDANT

(Grabbing MAN’s arm with both of hers.)

Hey, hands off, buddy!

 

MAN

Would you calm the hell down!

 

ATTENDANT

(To AMBER)

Ya know what, kid, I don’t care how stuffed this guy’s pockets are I can’t let you go with him.        

 

AMBER

I’m sorry, what?

 

ATTENDANT

You heard me you’re stayin’ here. Sir, I’m gonna ask you to leave and this is the last damn time I’ll do it, so I would suggest that you get that rear of yours moving before I take this to the manag–

 

AMBER

I’m not stayin’.

 

ATTENDANT

Don’t worry ‘bout the money kid, I got a way I can take care of it. Just tell this jerk to make his way out the-

 

AMBER

I SAID, I’m not stayin’.

 

ATTENDANT

You’re not seriously gonna entertain this guy are you? Kid, you’re young! You, you… you got a future ahead ‘a ya! And time, too!

           

MAN

I told you, she’s not staying. She told you she’s not staying. How many people have to tell you she’s not staying for you to understand the concept that she is not– 

 

AMBER

My God, would you can it, Richard!

 

RICHARD

Excuse me?

 

AMBER

I told you to quit talkin’! Did ya hear me this time?

(RICHARD and ATTENDANT stare blankly at AMBER.)

Could you, give me a minute, please?

 

ATTENDANT

You heard the girl, get outta here.

 

AMBER

Both of you.

 

ATTENDANT

What?

 

AMBER

Now, please.

 

RICHARD

Amber, I don’t understand the meaning of this.

 

AMBER

Please. I needa be alone.

 

RICHARD

(Under his breath.)

With all I do for you.

(Exits restroom.)

 

ATTENDANT

Glad we finally got rid of that shmuck.

 

AMBER

I said both of you!

 

ATTENDANT

Fine, fine. Make this quick, kid. I gotta job to do.

(ATTENDANT exits. AMBER sits up on the counter and leans over, placing her hands on her face. She begins to cry. After a minute or so, she gets up and paces around the bathroom, still crying. She then approaches the counter and looks at herself in the mirror blankly, before pulling a cell phone out of her pocket. She dials a number and puts the phone to her ear as it rings.)

                       

AMBER

Hi, it’s me…Yeah, I know, I know…Please, Ma, just listen to me!…I know it’s been a while but just hear me out, please…I’m in trouble and I– uh, I dunno what to do… I was short on money and I, I joined this thing some ‘a my friends were doin’… No, Ma. I’m not sellin’ drugs… I’m an escort… An escort… I’ve been hangin’ out with this guy who’s a little older ‘n he pays me for it… No, Ma, it ain’t like that!… No not even once!… I know, I know… It’s just that he’s the only way I’ve been payin’ my bills ‘n if I cut him off I’ll have to drop out and I’ll lose my apartment…

 

RICHARD

(From offstage.)

Amber, would you come out here please?

 

AMBER

(Struggling to get the words up.)

Um, just a second, I– um, I need, uh, a little more time, okay? Ma…. Ma!… He asked to marry him…Yeah… I don’t wanna but I think I might have to and, and I just need your help…

(AMBER falls back into tears.)

I don’t love him, Ma, I don’t… You think so ‘cause I sure don’t… Well I love you too… Really?… You really mean that?… Thank you, Ma, thank you… No, no I understand… I’ll come home tonight. I just gotta get my stuff… Okay… I love you, too. Bye.

(She slides the phone back into her pocket and slumps against the counter with a deep breath.)

 

RICHARD

(From offstage.)

Are you alright? You sound upset and I didn’t mean to upset you, you were just being dull–

 

ATTENDANT

(From offstage.)

Dull? Who you callin’ dull, moron?

                                   

AMBER

(Opening the door.)

I’m alright now, you can come in.

 

RICHARD

Can we go now, sweetheart? I think it’s about time we put this night to rest.

 

AMBER

Yeah. Take me home. Go have the valet pull up the car and I’ll meet ya out front.

 

ATTENDANT

What? You’ve gotta be kidding.                                 

 

RICHARD

I knew you would come around. I’ll see you out front.

(Exits.)

 

ATTENDANT

You can’t be serious with this guy, kid! What in the Lord’s name are ya thinkin’?

 

AMBER

Look, I called my ma. Her and my pop agreed to pay for my school if I can cover my rent so I can stop all this. I’m just gonna have Richard bring me home so I can get my stuff, and then I’ll take a cab out to my parents’ place as soon as he leaves. As long as I can get a job, I think everything is gonna be alright.

 

ATTENDANT

Wow, kid. Good for you.

 

AMBER

Thanks. And thanks for your help tonight. It was, uh, nice meetin’ ya.

(AMBER hugs the ATTENDANT.)

 

ATTENDANT

Glad I could help. That is my job, ya know. And hey, if you’re lookin’ for work, you should apply here. They could use a few extra hands for cleanin’ and the pay ain’t bad.

 

AMBER

Thanks. I’ll think about it.

 

ATTENDANT

Well, goodnight. And good luck, too.

 

AMBER

‘Night.

(AMBER exits the bathroom, leaving a few coins in the tip jar on her way out and throwing a smile to the ATTENDANT.)

 

*BLACKOUT*

Olivia Hunt is in eleventh grade at Downingtown East high school. She is an avid writer and aspires to study screenwriting. Her dream is to write her own television sitcom, or to become a writer on Saturday Night Live. Olivia loves live music and concerts, going to the coffee shop down the street to write, and soaking up every beautiful moment of life.

I am clutching my father’s hand like I do so well, because, God help me, I am not going into that classroom if it is the last thing I do. I’m not crying, because that would be out of place and embarrassing and my greatest talent is staying quiet. But, I am silently protesting, tugging on my father’s arm in place of wailing. I never talk much, and school is definitely not an exception.

 

I don’t want my parents to leave me here in this cold, dark school, even though the windows let in plenty of sunshine and fall leaves glow crimson and marigold on the grass outside, and even though the posters on the wall are colored butterscotch, aquamarine, and emerald, and other multisyllabic words I can spell at the age of five.

 

I will undoubtedly be tired and bored for hours on end in this cold, dark school, not to mention that friendship isn’t my forte. My backpack (which is violet, probably) hangs off of one of my shoulders, and I care more about leaving this place than the fact that my pencil case is threatening to fall out of the open pocket, and spill out onto the brown and blue speckled carpet.

 

My dad finally pries me off of him. Damn it, I think, but don’t say out loud, because I shouldn’t really be knowing words like that yet. Soon, my dearest father has delivered me straight into the hands of the devil. My teacher smiles, but I am sure that there is something sinister behind it.

 

I take millimeter steps to my desk, which is bordered at the top by a name tag spelling “Srishti,” the wrong way, of course. I’m positive that I can spell better than my kindergarten teacher. I will prove this fact, weeks later, after I am mistakenly sent to ESL due to my selective muteness, and after I successfully obtain several fancy mechanical pencils for doing well in the program, despite the fact that I speak English fluently.

 

I glance towards the door when I sit down at the desk, which is grouped in a table with three others. The girl directly next to me is small and quiet, although she will eventually grow up to be a loudmouth, who is nearly a foot taller than me and proficient in walking in heels. Her name tag spells “Lynn,” the correct way, of course. We don’t talk but we share a look, which is enough for now.

Srishti Ramesh is 15 years old and a sophomore in high school. She enjoys reading and writing, especially young adult literature. She also loves music, mostly hip-hop/rap and rock. She lives in Voorhees, New Jersey with her family and an unfortunate lack of pets.

Pitiful…unusual…pitiful…unusual

oh, what a tale.

Oh, what a story,

one may expect to come true.

 

A doll sat up on the old, grandfather clock. It seemed to be staring down at the floor with glassy eyes begging to be on the ground. Lifeless eyes followed your every move and the silent beating of a heart that should have been still filled the room.

 

A man stood in a dimly lit room, sewing. He would make his creation come to life. Lifeless eyes would become real; a still heart would once again beat. The man sang a small

song as he worked, humming a made up tune.

The old clock goes

tick tick tock.

A doll sits on that clock

singing

one more block

one more stitch

and one more heart.

 

The clock chimed twelve: ding, dong, ding, dong in twelve successive strikes. But he didn’t stop. He didn’t have any care for time, for the only thing on his mind was his creation. Soon, another hour passed and the clock chimed one. The man put down his needle and thread, taking in a deep breath of air.

“Finished!” he exclaimed, holding up his creation for his other servants to see.

 

Glassy eyes, a stitched smile, and the echo of a heartbeat were his definition of perfection. He set his creation down and waited. One, two, three… His breaths came in rapid succession; his most perfect creation was about to come to life, and come to life she did. She creaked and jittered before standing up with a robotic motion. Perfect.

 

He gave the girl a smile – a wicked, wicked smile.

“Welcome home, dear princess. You may call me the Puppet Master. Everything will be alright as long as you never grow up…”

 

It was all okay. He only took the children that were already living a dollhouse life. He had to get ready. The next one, the next target, he needed another. He needed a perfect prince for his perfect princess.

The man donned his hat over his mop of black hair. He brought the brim down over his sharp, green eyes. He then shrugged on his coat. A black coat, blacker than the night, reached past his knees. And the last were his shoes. Pointy shoes with tassels adorned his feet, a color of emerald that matched his eyes.

 

He slipped outside, shutting the door behind him without a single sound. Creeping like a shadow, blending in perfectly with the dark he looked for an open window – the sign of yet another paper house. He quietly crept in, knowing that the child in his bed would be awake. He stood in front of the child’s bed, nothing of him visible except his emerald shoes. The child sat up, trembling with fear.

“Wh-who are you, Mister with the emerald shoes?”

The man just held a finger to the child’s lips. The child was alarmed – when had he moved? He then smiled at the child, a sweet, sickly smile that showed off his glistening teeth.

 

“Hush,” the man whispered in the child’s ear, and with that the child fell back on his bed, in an eternal sleep. He picked up the child, cradling the boy like a newborn baby. His new, little doll princess would get a perfect doll prince after all. Once again he blended in with the night, but this time holding a little boy in his arms.

 

The man arrived back at his house and set the boy down on the stone, cold table. The boy was pallid. His pallor pale, veins sticking out, everything about him screamed DEATH. But the man would not accept this, no. He did not kill; he merely preserved. He preserved innocence and youth, saving children from homes they did not wish to be in – paper houses, doll houses, paper families, doll families.

 

He finally began his operation. A light tune started playing:

 

Dolls in dollhouses,

children playing.

Dolls in dollhouses,

children crying.

It’s okay,

hush,

you don’t need to struggle.

Pain will soon change to pleasure.

When your body has been torn apart,

memories will fade into pain.

 

First, he picked up the knife. The knife glinted in the dimly lit room, but it wasn’t any knife, no. It was a surgeon’s knife, an artist’s knife, a knife used for procedure; one that was used to form art. The man ran the knife across the boy’s naked torso, letting the crimson roses bloom across his body. The blood drained into a bucket. He then put the knife down and grabbed a needle and thread, stitching the boy’s wounds up. But he didn’t stop there; he continued stitching while humming a little tune:

 

Needle and thread

needle and thread

might wind up dead.

 

The boy now had stitches sealing not only his wounds, but also crossing over his mouth. His mouth was twisted into a sick sort-of smile, and his eyelids had been sown to remain open. Electric-blue irises that hid underneath were exposed. Electric-blue irises that once held life now held only death and…despair.

 

After putting the needle and thread away, the man clapped his hands together with excitement; his eyes were sparkling brighter than any gem. Taking out a pallet and a paintbrush, he once again went back to work. Paying no attention to the time, he let the grandfather clock chime on. Tick, tock…Ding, dong! With a flurry of hand movements and timed strokes of the brush, he was done. He had created the perfect prince for his perfect princess.

 

The boy had a light blush on his cheeks and his skin was given a golden hue. His eyes had been painted over with an even more startling blue. But most importantly – the finishing touch – a symbol on the boy’s left palm, a symbol of ownership that would remain forever. Adorning the boy’s left palm was a feather, a red feather.

 

The man put the boy down and waited. One, Two, Three… The other dolls also watched in anticipation. The boy creaked and jittered, much like the girl before him had. Once again, the echo of a still heart’s beating filled the room. The man gave the boy a smile – a wicked, wicked smile.

 

“Welcome home, dear prince. You may call me the Puppet Master. Everything will be alright, just as long as you never grow up…”

 

Pretty soon children started disappearing all across the country. The Puppet Master was the stuff of nightmares and everybody had heard about him. The man that crept in the shadows and kidnapped children. Nobody had ever gotten a glimpse of him, but the last cry of the children kidnapped was a clue turned legend.

“It’s the Mister with the emerald shoes!”

 

Everybody knows the legend now; everybody knows to keep their windows shut at night. 

Diya Goyal is an eleventh grader at Eastern Regional High School who dreams of one day becoming an author and poet. She holds a passion for reading and writing, and absolutely adores the mystery genre. Although, she would not be able to answer if asked what her favorite book is. Goyal also loves to watercolor and sketch.

Mississippi, 1834

           

            Sarah and I, we was only eight when we saw a dog fight for the first time.  Just behind our house, where our pop would round up some twenty dogs over the course of each and every month, he’d put up a new wall for each fight and watch the devils go at it for an hour or so, or at least till the last dog was standing, all tard out but victorious none the less, and one man would be screaming for joy at his big win while he’d watch the cash (which had piled up from all the bets at the beginning of the fight) fall into his hands.  A lot of men they’d just come to our house to watch, but they ain’t pay no bets.  These men warn’t no bother for pop, cause they’d still pay to watch, and he made plenty of money doing so.

 

            Our mama died when we was real young, and for the longest time, we ain’t knowed what happened to her.  I don’t think we’d of ever found out if it warn’t for Ms. Mary.  Lovely lady that she was, she came to be a great step-mom for Sarah; least I think so.  She was a learned lady, Ms. Mary, and she was young and pretty too, with beautiful, long brown hair, and blue eyes that sparkled when she taught us.  She was the only teacher in our school who was a lady, and all the boys’d be starin’ at her in class, and she kept everybody talkin’ at lunch time (though not usually ‘bout her lessons).  Course she knowed all about pop’s business with the dog fights and such.  Everybody in town knowed pop was a businessman, and he ain’t never let nobody get in his way.  He’d be gone as long as weeks at a time, and he ain’t never talk ‘bout where he was a-goin’, but he’d always come back with at least ten pups of all shapes and sizes.  Sarah and I came to be accustomed to bein’ alone in the big house and actin’ older than we was, and methinks we growed up a little too fast livin’ that way, but Ms. Mary she pitied Sarah and I, and she left us a delicious hot meal on our doorstep many nights when pop warn’t home, and methinks her wonderful apple pie helped us stay young and lively.  She was a lovely lady, Ms. Mary.

 

            Anyways, as I said, Ms. Mary she came to be a motherly figure for little Sarah.  I often seen them in class together long after the school day was over, and they was always a-talkin’ and talkin’, real close together, and I would set outside the door and keep down low and sneaky so I could listen, cause Ms. Mary she learn lessons to Sarah after class that she never would during the school day.  She’d tell Sarah that the young girl had to be strong, but she couldn’t show it.  Lord knows how one could do that!  Sometimes I would grow a little jealous I warn’t ever invited to their secret meetings.  But one time, she and Sarah they caught me a-eavesdropping.  Luckily, they warn’t mad, but they just laughed and told me to come inside.  So I done as they asked, and that’s when she broke the news to us both.  We was each ten then, and so I s’pose she thought it a proper time to learn us of our mama’s death.

 

            The story warn’t much; she probably knowed us kids couldn’t handle the details.  She told us that our pops came home drunk as a monkey one night when we was real little, and he got ran into Ma, and they got in a little argument bout his drinking habits, and then it escalated (I ain’t know what that word meant at the time, but now I knows, cause I’s much smarter now), and Ma she got to talkin’ ‘bout how cruel pop was with his poor dogs he’d been a-forcin’ to fight to the death, and he ain’t wanna hear no more after that.  He done murdered her, and that’s all Ms. Mary told us.  Perhaps I ain’t never gonna know how he did it, but I s’pose that’s fine, cause now when I think ‘bout it I really don’t wanna know.

 

            Ms. Mary took me aside after that, and she told me that I needn’t have any special lessons with her cause I was a boy and I warn’t gonna have no problems bein’ myself.  But then she begged me to start my own business when I was older, and to not take over pop’s dog fighting monopoly and such, cause money warn’t everything and dog’s lives mattered more.  I assured Ms. Mary that I warn’t interested in seeing any more dogs fight if I could help it, and that made her real happy, and she smiled and thanked me and gave me a nice big kiss on the cheek, and told me I was a good boy and that I’d grow up to be a much better man than my father ever was.  Boy did my face light up bright red like the 4th of July after that!  All the boys, they’d’ve loved to have been kissed by Ms. Mary, and they’d’ve probably gone runnin’ around tellin’ every person they saw ‘bout the whole thing.

 

            Now one time, a little pitbull, methinks he went by the name of Jody, he done bit the tail off another poor pup, and when he done so he twirled the damned thing round and round in his jaws like a tornado, and he was all triumphant and such, and dark, fresh blood was a-flyin’ every which way; and Sarah she didn’t like that too much, and so she got to cryin’ and cryin’ like I never seen nobody cry before, and I swear she bawled ‘nuff to fill up the crik that run behind our house.  The other men there that was watchin’ the fight started to stare at the poor girl, and soon as pop saw her he took her away.  I never knowed what he told her, but after that night she ain’t never cry at a dog fight again.  When I asked her about it (and I did many a time), she just shook her head and said cryin’ was bad for business, and that she had to be strong like me.  Pops always told me I was a strong boy, and that made me feel good, ‘specially when he learned me to chop wood and carry the logs around to make a new pit for the dogs.

 

            I s’pose pops cared about Sarah, anyhow.  One time he told her to draw out a diagram for the pit, and she done a wonderful job and drew a perfect little square ring, and he congratulated her.  She was mighty proud and happy after that.  But soon as she tried to be like me and help carry the logs, he smacked her and gave her a long talking to, and I ain’t make out much of it but this: “Girls ain’t s’posed to build things, they’s just s’posed to watch.”

 

            The first time pop gave me an ax, he motioned me to follow him out back, and by and by we come upon the beautiful group of Mexican petunias that grow in our yard by the crik, and they was bright violet and mighty pretty.  I always loved those petunias.  At first I wondered why pop needed me to bring the ax, then he says we would be cutting down a mighty oak, but first we had to get rid of the petunias.  That made me quite sad, but he said them Mexican petunias was invasive and brought the other trees down.  So he took the ax and went at ‘em, and by and by he started pulling ‘em out by their roots, and then we got to choppin’ my first oak.  Pop said we’d build a mighty big wall for the dogs with that trunk; it was wider than me!  That ax was heavy, and I got to bein’ real tard out cause he’d make me work all day, but I got used to it; I’d be out choppin’ wood and buildin’ bigger and bigger pits every weekend.  The neighbors’d stop by every once in a while, and when they seen me out back a-hackin’ away there grew a look of pity in their faces, cause they knowed all the expectations put on me was too much.  But they never said anything, cause pop was a man of power with all his money and such, and he warn’t to be challenged.

 

            Ms. Mary was a great poet, and she’d always give Sarah poems to read, probably because she couldn’t let no one else know she was writing them.  That’s how Sarah got so smart, I s’pose.  It was truly wonderful, though, cause Sarah she’d read the poems and then bring them home for me to read, and it sure did take me a long time to understand ‘em, but by and by I got to knowing what Ms. Mary was talking about in each one.  And boy did she have a lot to say!

         

            One day, near the end of the school year, Sarah told Ms. Mary that she should publish her poems so as to let all the townspeople read ‘em.  But Ms. Mary she said ain’t no women’s poetry would be respected in our little town in Mississippi, and even worse, she could get hung for it.  But then Sarah come up with a wonderful idea; what if Ms. Mary could put her poems up all around the town and sign ‘em off with a different name?  Why, Ms. Mary she thought a moment, and then she said she loved the idea and called Sarah a genius, and she got right to doin’ so.  She’d go out late at night, I s’pose, and post em in each and every bar and post office and on the back of people’s carriages and even around our school.  The poems was wonderful, and they was all different and interesting.  Some of ‘em were about nature, and others was about romance.  But some of ‘em were challenges to society; she wrote about the unfairness that women faced, and in one poem she wrote about the problems with slavery!  But her most famous poem she wrote in the hot Mississippi July, and it was about no other than pop:                                          

                                   

                                                It is nothing short of amazing to see

                                                A group of loyal companions, so ebullient and friendly,

                                                Transmute to beasts

                                                as a result of the actions of one man                                      

                                                The god-awful business-man!

                                                He who sees no harm

                                                In a little fun with a fight to the death

                                                I would not be taken aback

                                                if one day his money

                                                turned on he who so gracefully stole

                                                for one man’s treasure map

                                                is most certainly not worthy

                                                to act as a map for his very life

                                                                                                k.

            It got the whole town talkin’ day and night, all about who K was or why he hated the dog fights so much.  Pop he tried to ignore it at first, actin’ as if nothin’ ever happened, but by and by he got angered with everyone staring at him.  And one day he vowed he’d find out who this K was and punish him.  Needless to say, pop kept a-goin’ with his business, and the money kept pilin’ in.  I think his trips to the bank helped to take his mind off all the K business.  Well, those and a whole lot of nights at the bar, for sure.

           

            A man by the name of Terry—I ain’t never seen him at a fight before—he thought it smart to come to a fight one night that July.  I found out he was from across the state border, and he’d just seen his pup go missin’ the week before.  He was taken by K.’s poem of course, and that’d learned him of where all the missin’ pups were goin’.  Course we ain’t know all that ‘bout him at first.  But once the fight started, sure enough Terry seen his missin’ dog in the pit and made it a big deal.  Terry started asking pop questions about the places he got his dogs from, and said he wanted his dog back, but that didn’t last long.  Everyone was mad he caused a disturbance in the fight, and he was kicked out before he could say much more.  They laughed mighty hard after that, except for Sarah, who followed him outside, and the dogs they kept a-goin’ at it and soon enough everyone was back to watchin’ and cheerin’.  But pop he got mighty pale and he ain’t watch much of the fight after he’d gone.

 

            He stopped hosting’ fights for a while after that night.  One day, he told us he had to go into hiding and that we might not see him for a couple-a days.  But days stretched to weeks, and we ain’t see much of pop.  A lot of folks started showin’ up on our doorstep, and askin’ to see pop, and when we’d tell ‘em he warn’t home, they’d get angry and demand to know where he went off to.  When we told ‘em we ain’t know, they got mighty red and angered.  Sarah got to bein’ quite scared of those kinds of folks and worried that they’d hurt us, so she told Ms. Mary, and of course the saint come to live with us and help us.  I was worried that pop would come home one day and find her in our house, but she didn’t seemed to think about that too much.

           

            Anyways, Ms. Mary helped us out quite a bit.  Besides cooking for us (though we was already used to her bringing dinner most nights), she helped us deal with the folks that come to our house.  They was always mad about pop, and she told ‘em that we ain’t know where he went but that she believed stealing those dogs for fights was wrong and that she’d send them a letter if she ever found out where pop was a-livin’.  They was always mighty thankful after that and kind too.  Ms. Mary had that effect on people; she could cheer anyone up no matter how mad they was.  Sarah and I got to bein’ real close with Ms. Mary in those weeks with pop gone, and she started to learn us how to write poetry.  I warn’t too good at it, but Sarah she had a natural talent.  She and Ms. Mary had loads of fun and they’d spend all day that summer writing out by the crik. 

           

            One time I went out with them, and while they was writing I got to explorin’ the crik a little.  Since I was 13, I figured it was time to start going out into the wild like a real man.  But I ain’t walked 4 paces before I come across a little furry body in the distance, right on the opposite bank of the crik.  I hopped across some stones and made it to the other side, and quickly I saw it was the body of a poor pup, sporting a coat of fur that was once bright blonde but was now all matted with dried red blood.  The sad little creature!  So that’s what pop must’ve done with all the dead warriors; he’d put em right in the crik to flow right in to the Mississippi.  This poor little pup must’ve been misplaced and stuck.  I didn’t want to pick him up; his eyes were still open with the same ferociousness they must’ve had when he breathed his last breath.  I called Ms. Mary over, and she gasped with great horror when she saw the poor creature. 

 

            She said we ought to give him a proper burial.  So we picked him up with a shovel (ain’t none of us wanted to touch him) and put him in the ground in a little hole we dug near the crik, and Ms. Mary read a poem she said was dedicated to all the dogs who’d lost their lives, and right as she was a-finishin’ and Sarah was about to pour the first handful of dirt back on top, the back door opened and we all turned to see pop, and soon as he saw Ms. Mary with us kids his face turned mighty stern and red like a devil!  He walked down to us with the stride of an angered king, and just like Henry VIII he told Ms. Mary she’d lose her head if she failed to do some explainin’.  Well, unlike anyone else who might’ve shrunk and quivered from such a statement delivered by such a man as pop, Ms. Mary stayed calm and collected.

 

            “I’m caring for your children,” she said.  “A child simply cannot live without proper guidance, and your extended absences have rendered these two young ones lonely and miserable.”

 

            As one could expect, pop was struck by this challenge.  Pop observed the scene, and then he started to walk around, shaking his head and such.  He seemed to think things over a minute, and when he turned to face us, he was a different person.  He spoke in a way I never seen before.  Instead of getting all mad and screaming, he got mighty soft and kind and spoke in a quiet voice like a teacher:

 

            “Why, miss, you see here, I think what we have is a little bit of a misunderstanding.”  Miss Mary stood still and looked confused, and Sarah did too.  I couldn’t believe this new version of pop; I was still so surprised that he ain’t hit Ms. Mary yet, but I was thankin’ God that was so.

 

            Then he said, “A lot of people been sayin’ awful things ‘bout me, miss.  I don’t want to send the wrong message—”

 

            He looked up real quick, so as to see if Ms. Mary was lookin’ and probably to make his speech a little more powerful, I s’pose.  Sure enough, Ms. Mary’s eyes were stuck on pop, and so he went on, even more softly, almost like he felt bad for the lady.  Surely he was tryin’ to seduce her!

 

            “I’m a nice man, really, I am, miss.  But I just don’t understand why you think you need to come on to my property, look after my kids, and bury my dogs.”

 

            His words struck my ears with a powerful blow, cause they was just so unexpected and queer comin’ from that mouth.  And I could tell Ms. Mary’d had it with that, and I squirmed and cried inside cause I knowed she had best keep her mouth shut, but she was determined to send a message of her own.

 

            “Now you listen to me, Mr. Businessman.  These dogs are most certainly not your dogs, and I’d bet quite a few of your visitors of these past weeks would gladly reaffirm such a statement.”  Well I’ll be damned, the lady done it!  It was over now.  I ain’t know how much longer I could hold it all in.  I had to do somethin’ soon, else pop might lose his temper that was already so fragile.

 

            Pop started to walk over, slowly but all the more powerful.  He got real close to Ms. Mary and whispered into her ear, so quiet I could barely hear:

 

            “Do you mean to tell me, miss, that you’ve invaded my home and decided you could stay for weeks?”

 

            “Yes.”

 

            “And you’ve been looking after my children all this time?”

 

            “Yes, they never had a mother to perform the task.”

 

            Pop smacked her hard across the face, and Sarah and I both felt it, and Sarah she started to cry right away, and even I felt a little tear on my face.

 

            “Quiet!” pop yelled, his face bright red, and Sarah couldn’t stop so she run away down to the crik, and I couldn’t figure out what I was a-gonna do.  Pop grabbed Ms. Mary and begun to talk real soft and devilish again.

 

            “You’s the first person I’ve met from this here town that don’t like dog fights.  I never thought that such a lovely poet could be a lady.

 

            Ms. Mary quivered when he said that.  He knowed the secret!

 

            “Don’t you worry, miss, I ain’t a-gonna kill you.  Not yet, at least.  First I’s got to make sure the whole town knows what happens when a poor soul challenges me and disrupts my business.”

 

            And then he took Ms. Mary inside, and I s’pose he locked her somewhere, and so I went down to talk to Sarah, and she was a-cryin’ and cryin’. 

 

            “Don’t cry, Sarah, you’s a-gonna make this here crick overflow!”  She stopped and looked up at me, and right away she says, “We gotta kill pop.”  As one might guess, I was mighty surprised at such a statement from this innocent child.  I knowed we couldn’t do such a thing, so I tried to learn Sarah about some morals that Ms. Mary might’ve forgotten to learn her.

 

            “Sarah, we can’t do that,” I said.  “We’d be sorry we done it, and the whole town’d shame us.”

            “I don’t care about the town, I want to save Ms. Mary!”

 

            “Sarah, Ms. Mary ain’t related to us.  We can’t kill pop to keep her alive.”

 

            “I’ll think of something,” she said while she stood up.  Then she stormed off, and I begun to get a little scared at what would happen.  The little girl couldn’t kill pop!  And course when she tried to do so she’d probably end up gettin’ killed herself.

 

            Well, later that night pop tried to be a good dad and make us some dinner for once, but Sarah said she didn’t want his food, and so he sent her away without anything to eat.  After I was done, I found her and she told me that she found Ms. Mary; the lady was locked in the basement.  Sarah said we had to bust her out, and I figured I could help her do that, but the time warn’t quite right yet.

 

            A few weeks later, pop went out again; I s’pose he was a-gonna go in to the bar.  So Sarah and I took our chance, and we went down to the basement.  She was locked in there, and we ain’t know how to get the door open, so I went to get the ax from out back, and it took me a mighty long time and plenty of strength to do it but I finally busted the door open.  Boy did she look sick!  She was paler’n a ghost, and it made me quite upset to look at her.  She was strapped to the wall, her arms stretched out at her sides, and she was all tar’d out, and I figured pop warn’t feeding her much.  She was mighty happy to see us, though, but then she came to and asked what we was a-doin’.  When we done told her we was gonna bust her loose, she said, “Why, such an idea is highly unintelligent.  Now, you two leave this minute!”

 

            When we kept a-goin’, she got more nervous and desperate. “Your well-being is not to be risked for me!  Please, children, you must try to please your father.”

 

            But we ain’t stop, and by and by she didn’t seem to care no more.  I s’pose she realized that our efforts would work, cause I was handlin’ that ax like a man and her ropes were a-comin’ undone mighty easy.  We got her undone, and she fell down into our arms.  We helped her up the stairs, and got her some good food and water.  Then she thanked us and told us she felt rejuvenated, and so we were proud and happy.  But then she said she’d have to flee, or else she’d be killed and we’d be punished bad.  She told us we’d be smart to come with her, too, and Sarah and I was fine with that idea.

 

            But soon as we reached the front door, we saw pop a-comin’ down the way with a whole pack of men behind him, and we knowed he was excited to show the whole town how he done caught the mysterious k.  Sarah and Ms. Mary was both scared, I could tell, and I’d be lyin’ to say I warn’t too.  Then Sarah got to mutterin’ under her breath, and she was so restless, and she kept sayin’, “Where are they…Where are they?”

 

            I was wonderin’ who on earth she could’ve been thinkin’ about, and so I asked her if she was expecting guests other than the angry men on their way across the front lawn, and she told Ms. Mary and I that she gave the man Terry a letter to send to his brother, so as to round up the mad townspeople from across the Mississippi border who’d had their dogs a-stolen’.  Sarah done told them to come this very day to capture pop!

 

            Well, Ms. Mary and I ain’t had much time to take in the surprise, cause pop and the townspeople was getting mighty close, so we run out the back door and took the long route to town without lookin’ back.  Sure enough, once we got there, Terry was leadin’ a pack of angry men towards us, and they all had new dogs with ‘em.

 

            “Mr. Terry, my mail…it worked!” Sarah shouted.  Terry looked down and seemed to congratulate the girl, but then he wanted to get down to business.

 

            “We was just on our way to your old man, miss,” he said.  “Now that everyone’s here, we’d love to take care of some unfinished business.”

 

            “I could lead you the way, sir, but pop has got the whole town with him, and I’m sure they won’t go down without a fight!”

 

            But these words didn’t stop Terry and the gang.  They marched like a group of soldiers right down to our house, and once we got there pop and the townsmen were a-settin’ out front, just awaitin’ our arrival!  I warn’t too sure what was gonna happen, so I walked behind Ms. Mary, and she walked behind Terry (who had a smaller group than pop did), and Sarah walked behind me.  By and by we come up to pop, and for a while nobody said nothin’, and the silence was so hard on my head and it almost seemed too loud; I got a headache.  Terry soon opened his mouth, and I knew he was about to say somethin’, but then Sarah she come out of nowhere and I swear she made my heart skip a beat with the words she said:

 

            “Pop, you’ve been a-killin’ and a-killin’ for the longest time now, and I can’t stand it no more!  Those doggies deserved to live, and momma did too!”

 

            She delivered those words with the most beautiful tone, sweet but all the more powerful, and a little tear come to her eye when she let out a little sob over the last words, and then she ran right into Ms. Mary’s arms and cried softly.  Course pop didn’t want none of it, and he was mighty upset to be humiliated as such in front of the whole town by his own child, and so he came a-stormin’ over.  Normally I would’ve been prayin’ for Sarah’s well-being, but I figured if the townsmen were half as touched as I was they’d’ve stepped in to protect her, so I warn’t worried at first.  But pop took long strides without stoppin’, and nobody was doin’ nothin, and so I knowed the townsmen warn’t on our side like I thought, and that made me disappointed and afraid.

           

            Pop reached the crowd of Terry’s men and started to push everyone to get to Sarah and Ms. Mary; surely that lady’s time had come.  But nobody was lettin’ him through so easy, and he got mad and pulled out a gun and started shootin’ and that’s when the whole fight let loose.  We was in the back, Ms. Mary and Sarah and I, and so we got to runnin’ real quick and made quick for the woods, and the whole time we ain’t turned our heads once.  I don’t think I’ve ever run that fast in my life, and by the time we reached the woods we ducked behind some trees and looked back.  Just over one of those beautiful Mexican petunias, I could see it all.  The men were caught up in a brawl, most of ‘em on the ground punchin’ and pistol-whippin’ and scratchin’ and bitin’, and it was a mighty sight to see.  A few shots were fired, and a lot of blood stained the grass of what we used to call our front lawn, and men were fallin’ and turnin’ to savages.

 

            Ms. Mary said we should keep a-goin’ to get to a safe town, and so we followed.  I took one last look at the house, cause I knowed I probably warn’t gonna see it for a long time, and I caught one glimpse of pop.  He looked like he was tryin’ to regain control, like he was tryin’ to keep his business goin’ as he’d planned, all smooth as he liked it, but he’d lost his grip on the animals, and as he stood up and tried to yell somethin’ I couldn’t make out, he caught a knife through his back, delivered by Terry himself, and I looked away and started to run.

 

Max Hinkle is a 17-year-old writer from Glenside, Pennsylvania. He is a rising senior at the William Penn Charter School in Pennsylvania and hopes to pursue writing in college. This short story, if one couldn’t already guess, is heavily influenced by Mark Twain’s works.