Ring…

Ring…

Ring…

Hi Margie, ya there? Yeah, I just wanted to know if there’s anything you want me to bring for the party tonight. I’ll bring whatever you want,maybe that severed arm cake I made a few years ago? Or the bloody brain jello mold, that was fun! Ugh I just love Halloween so much! What’s this now? A ‘polite’ sort of Halloween party? Well I don’t really see the fun in that, but I could still-

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…

…

Oh. No, no I get it Margie. You're right, I probably wouldn’t be able to help myself. I would probably be too much for everyone, especially the kids. Well, see ya around Margie.

Click.

Dial-dial-dial

Ring…

Ring…

Ring…

Uh, hey Lucy. Sorry to bother you out of the blue like this, but uh, I just felt like callin’ I guess. No, nothing happened. I swear nothin- Oh all right. I called Margie and uh, she informed me that she doesn’t want me at her party. Well now, there’s no need for such language Lucy! Nah, I’m fine. Am story? Well you know I always got one locked and loaded but, you don't have to listen to me tell a whole story just to be nice, Luce- really? Ok then:

Little Toby set the wooden doll on his toy train tracks. He gave his little train a push and when it hit the little doll the doll just lazily rolled off the tracks. Unsatisfied with this outcome, he replaced the doll, left and came back with a length of clear tape. He secured the doll to the tracks, and this time rather than just push off the train he took it in his little hand and rammed it himself into the little doll. 

Those little moments of cruelty

When he looked down at the damage the tape had twisted up and the little head of the doll had come clean off. Toby looked down at the broken toy sadly. He took the pieces and ran down the hall yelling “Stacy! Stacy!” When he came to his eldest sister’s room she was at her desktop hunched over a game. 

“Stacy Stacy I need help!”

“Just a minute.” Stacy said. She was playing a game with soldiers and guns. She had been chasing a member of the other team down for almost ten minutes now. She got them cornered and aimed her rifle. The other player typed a beg for mercy into the chat box, but Stacy just snorted and shot him square in the chest.

Those little moments of cruelty.

“Ok, what is it then?” Stacy said, taking off her headphones and turning to her youngest sibling. He held up his broken toy to her.

“Can you fix it?” He said tearfully.

“Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah, let me just find the hot-glue. Be right back.” Stacy gave her brother a pat in the head and started looking through the house for the glue-gun. When she couldn’t find it she went to the kitchen where she found her mother lighting the stove beneath the teapot.

“Mom, do you know where the hot-glue-gun is?” Stacy asked.

“Check the cabinet above the printer.” Mother said.

“Thanks mom!” Stacy ran off and Mother reached for the tea. She let out a sharp grunt when she saw a roach on the counter. She bent down the take of her shoe and raised it into the air, but the creature was gone. She spied it again by the sink and made a swipe at it but it escaped. It scuttled up to the window and was just about to escape the dangerous kitchen and leave the family be, when the shoe came down hard upon it. Mother gave a satisfied sigh.

Those little moments of cruelty.

Mom cleaned up the squashed bug and finished making the tea. She poured a cup and took it into the living room, handing it to Grandma. 

“Thank you dear.” Grandma said.

“Your welcome, mom.” Mother said and left. Grandma sat back with her tea and began to blow on it when Lottie, the middle child,  walked in. Grandma’s brow furrowed at Lottie, who was wearing an outfit composed of several clashing colors and patterns. Neon yellow leg warmers, striped tights and her plaid purple dress. Completing the look was her green and red Christmas cardigan. Lottie looked quite happy with her ensemble, Grandma, however, had much the opposite reaction to it.

“What on earth do you think you’re wearing?” Grandma asked with a gentle, playful scorn, “Now those don’t match at all, you go change, unless you want to stay home today. You're not going in public like that.” Lottie’s little face fell.

“But I think I look pretty-” Lottie started but was cut off by the sight of Grandma shaking her head.

“Hurts my eyes even.” Grandma said, putting on sass, then said more sweetly, “Now go change so we can have a lovely day out.” 

Those little moments of cruelty.

Grandma sat back in her chair as Lottie sulked off to her room. Once she was out of Grandma’s earshot she let out a sniffle, and then a quiet sob. She plopped down on her bed and cried in earnest. After a minute or so she swallowed her last sob in her throat. She clenched her fists and rubbed out her tears. Her teeth gritted and her little face scrunched up as her sadness turned into hot rage.

She looked around her room for something to put her anger into, but everything in her room belonged to her, and was therefore untouchable in such times. But then, she spied a doll. A doll that had been a gift from her Grandmother. A pouty, porcelain thing, with perfect blonde ringlets and big blue eyes. In that pale pink dress with the frills and petticoats. It was a sad looking thing, a cast aside thing, sticking out like a sore thumb in Lottie’s bedroom.

Lottie picked up the doll by it’s soft hair, and gave it one last fiery, angry look into its glass eyes before hurling it hard against the wall. The head and limbs shattered, falling to the floor in pieces by the little cloth body that lay like a corpse in that pretty little dress.

Those little moments of cruelty.

Lottie panted from the outburst and grinned wickedly. Then, with a sigh, she changed into a pink t-shirt and frilled purple skirt with polka-dots just the color of the shirt, and matching socks in the same color yet again. She looked at herself in the mirror and grimaced, then sulked out of her room.

In the hall, Lottie stopped by the door to Father’s study. She knocked on the door, just above the child-proof lock, shave-and-a-haircut style.

“Daddy! We’re leaving soon! Be ready ok?” She called through the door.

“Be there in a minute sweetheart! Just need to get cleaned up!” He answered. He then turned back to the man tied to the chair.

The man’s eyes were ringed with fear, his face red with sweat beading his forehead. He was not gagged, but didn’t dare make a sound. He looked at Father in terror.

“Well now!” Father said brightly, “Gotta get dirty before you can get clean, I always say!” The man strained against his restraints, but it was to no avail.

“Now, now, now, that won’t do you any good.” Father chuckled. “Now let’s see here…” Father’s hand passed over an array of tools. A mallet, a box-cutter, a vial of something green, an axe, a butcher’s knife, brick, and finally his hand took pause between a syringe and a serrated steak knife. He looked back at his prisoner.

“Well they are waiting on me…” He said, his hand hovering over the syringe. The prisoner ever so slightly nodded his head.

“Ah but I was so looking forward to getting my hands dirty…” Father said, and moved his hand towards the knife. The prisoner shook his head no with vigor.

“What to choose, what to choose.” Father pondered. The prisoner sweated and shook.

“Ah what the hell, Toby is bound to lose his shoes anyway, I’m sure I have time.” Father said, and selected the steak knife. He gave his prisoner a sickening look, and got to work.

Those little moments of cruelty.

All through the house rang the prisoner’s screams, and somewhere in the house, somebody laughed.

                                                           THE END

Haha, thanks Luce. Actually no, would you believe I just made that one up? Yeah! I mean I had played with the idea before but I only just- I’m sorry, I’m rambling, and ya just listened to that whole long story. Hey… uh, Lucy? Are you still going to that party? Ok, again, language, but, well, do you wanna maybe, come over for some horra’ flicks? Scare some trick-or-treaters? Fantastic! Oh, we’re gonna have so much fun! Love ya Luce!