by Marina Cohen
Twenty-seven
Hadley lay in bed pretending to sleep. She nearly nodded off several times, but each time she pinched herself hard to keep awake.
Her mother came into the room to check on her. She kissed Hadley gently on the cheek and then pulled the duvet over her shoulders. She exited the room as quietly as she’d entered.
Her father came as well. Steady footsteps approached from the hall. They stopped and the door glided open. He didn’t set foot inside; he just stood there. Though Hadley didn’t dare open her eyes, she was certain it was him.
She lay perfectly still, commanding every muscle in her body to obey. It seemed like an eternity until the door closed again and the footsteps disappeared down the hall. Her lungs deflated slowly. She’d been holding her breath.
Once she was certain they were asleep, she got up and hoisted the dollhouse and exited her room. Hadley swayed under its weight. It was heavier and more awkward to handle than it had been the first time she’d lifted it.
The hall was empty. She took several steps, and then the floorboards yelped beneath her feet. She froze for seconds that felt like hours, but nothing stirred. She moved again, this time inching across the landing toward the stairs.
Slowly, carefully, she began her descent. Reaching the bottom step, she moved silently to the front door. There, she set the house on the floor and shook her arms. They were both hollow and tingly.
She clicked the deadbolt and pulled as hard as she could, but the door stuck. It didn’t want to budge. She tried again and again, but it wouldn’t open, so she propped her foot against the wall to brace herself. When she tugged with every last bit of strength in her body, the door flew open, and Hadley stumbled backward, landing next to the dollhouse.
She found herself face-to-face with the doll that looked like her father. He glared at her, like he knew exactly what she was up to.
Hadley found her feet and slowly backed away, half expecting the man to appear at the top of the steps. She took a few breaths and pulled herself together. Picking up the dollhouse, she plunged through the open door.
The evening air was warm and moist. Other than the song of a few crickets, the street seemed eerily quiet. She lugged the dollhouse all the way to the curb without stopping. She plunked it beside the neat line of recycling bins.
She tucked the glass eye inside her dollhouse bedroom, under the bed. She dusted off her hands, grinning. Once the eye and the house were destroyed, the spell would be broken, and things would go back to normal.
Halfway up the drive, Hadley remembered the dolls. The memory of Isaac’s busted ankle flashed through her brain. She ran back to the curb and snatched her mother’s doll and Granny’s. She left her father’s doll right where he was.
“We wouldn’t want to miss getting rid of all that trash,” she said out loud. A sliver of delight curled her lips.
Hadley scurried up the driveway and into the house. She shut the door behind her, careful not to let it slam. Back in her bedroom, Hadley gently placed the dolls on her dresser. She slipped beneath her covers and closed her eyes.
Hadley dreamed she was standing at the curb. The garbage truck was stopped in front of the house. It was grinding and chewing and churning the trash. But as it drove off, something crawled out from the back.
Twenty-eight
Hadley awoke to a grinding sound. Wheels, cogs, bolts—all churning and writhing and screeching as they spun and turned and tightened. A blast of exhaust ended the metallic symphony. The garbage truck had arrived.
Hadley made it to the window in time to see the truck trundle on its way. The bins lay upside down at the edge of the drive. Though she only had a narrow view, there was no sign of the dollhouse. She breathed a sigh of relief.
It was over. The house was gone. The eye was gone. Her father’s doll was gone. Maybe everything would go back to normal now. Maybe getting rid of them would break the spell. Hadley’s heart inflated. It floated to the ceiling like a bright pink balloon. Then she turned her head, and with a sharp stab the balloon popped.
The dollhouse sat in the exact spot it had sat for the past week.
“I—I got rid of you,” she said, stepping back. “I put you at the curb … Didn’t I?”
Hadley was lost in a mental maze, and she was terrified she’d never find her way out. Had she really left her room last night? Had she really put the dollhouse by the trash? Or had she fallen asleep and dreamed the entire thing? Her stomach churned. She wasn’t sure anymore.
She heard a long drawn-out rumble. She turned slowly to see the eye rolling toward her across the floor.
Hadley threw on some clothes and raced out of her room. She flew down the stairs, jumped into her shoes, and tugged at the front door. It was sealed tight, as though the house didn’t want her to leave.
She managed to pry it open and dashed out into the open air. She didn’t stop running until she was at the edge of the ravine. But even that wasn’t far enough.
Stones and twigs jabbed into the soles of her feet as she slid down the embankment and into the gully. She rested only once the house was completely out of sight—hidden by the thick intertwining branches and layers of deep green leaves.
Sitting on the trunk of a fallen tree, she closed her eyes. She breathed in the musky odor of decaying wood and damp earth. The slow trickle of water from the nearby creek soothed her mind. Birds chirped. Leaves rustled. She could sort this all out—maybe even come up with some kind of a plan—if only she could stay away long enough.
“Hadley!”
Her eyes snapped open.
“Haaadleeeey!”
The sound of his voice stopped her heart cold.
Hadley dove for cover, pressing herself flat against the rough bark of the old log. She swallowed great gulps of air, but it was as though there wasn’t enough oxygen left in the universe to fill half her lungs. She crouched, prepared to spring into action in case he came after her.
“It’s Daddy, Doll Face. I want to talk to you.”
His voice was distant, as though it were coming from down a deep, deep well. The heady scent of moss and toadstools filled her nostrils as she squashed herself into the damp earth. Using her elbows, she inched along the ground until she was safely hidden behind the fat, gnarly trunk of an old tree. Slowly, she lifted herself and poked her head around it.
Through the tangle of leaves, she could see a figure at the edge of the ravine. She could barely make out the shape, but there was no mistaking it.
“Hadley, honey! I have something I want to give you.”
Hadley ducked back behind the tree. Air moved in and out of her lungs in ragged, wheezing puffs. She couldn’t have seen right, she told herself. She snuck another peek.
“Come home, Hadley.”
His voice remained sweet, his words calm. If she didn’t know any better, she’d have sworn he was looking to give her a hug and maybe some kind of a treat. Her heart drummed a warning in her chest. There was no treat waiting for her there.
Time melted into a dark puddle of dread. Hadley let herself sink into it.
“Okay,” he said finally. “But remember, you can’t stay down there forever.”
Maybe not, she thought. But I can try.
“I’ll be in the house,” he said calmly. “Waiting.”
His last word seemed to echo on and on inside her head until it finally disappeared, taking with it all the sounds in the universe. Nothing around her stirred. The birds had stopped chirping. The insects had stopped buzzing. Even the air stopped circulating and felt heavy and stagnant. It was as though time had frozen and Hadley was encased in its ice.
After what seemed like forever, she gathered enough courage to move. Slowly, she poked her head out and risked another look. The upper edge of the ravine was empty. Only the top of the house was visible—the Cyclops eye glaring at her like the sharp beam of a lighthouse.
“Hey.”
Hadley’s heart leaped into her lungs. She spun around. As soon as her bra
in registered who was standing there, she lunged for him, grabbed his T-shirt, and yanked.
“Come on.”
Hadley ran as fast as she could, dragging Gabe along with her. He followed without question—as though the look on her face had been enough to tell him something was terribly wrong.
Deeper and deeper into the woods they fled. Gabe took the lead as they wove around old trunks, avoided low-hanging branches, waded through thick weeds, and jumped over tangled roots.
When they finally arrived at a clearing, Hadley slowed to a jog. The creek wasn’t far ahead. She reached the bank just in time to collapse on the edge, gasping for air.
Gabe dropped down beside her. He sucked in great gulps. “W-what’s g-going on? Are you out of your m-mind?”
“Maybe,” she said, her chest rising and falling as she attempted to catch her own breath.
The sun beamed down from a cloudless blue. A soft breeze blew hot and dry against Hadley’s skin. But instead of making her feel cheerful, it had the opposite effect. She had become suspicious of anything too bright, too beautiful, too clean—or too perfect.
“Gabe?” she said once she was calm enough to speak.
“Yeah?”
A million thoughts battled to be first out of her mouth, but they got tangled and stuck in her throat. She was desperate to tell Gabe everything. Tell him there was no such thing as reality—that reality was a gossamer fabric that could easily wrinkle or snag and tear. She wanted to tell him that life, as she knew it, had been altered, and that everyone around her—even he, Gabe—had been affected by the change. But where would she start? And would he only think she was crazy?
Hadley took a deep breath and sighed. She wasn’t even sure she believed herself anymore. “Forget it,” she said, picking up a rock and tossing it into the creek.
Gabe, who had been observing her all the while, narrowed his eyes. Then he picked up a rock as well and tossed it into the creek. It splashed into the water in the exact spot hers had entered.
They sat there, side by side, not saying a word for the longest time. And Hadley thought about all that had happened. And why it had happened.
Why had she been so unhappy? Ed had been good to her. He had been trying hard to get closer. And Isaac was cute. And it was nice to have a little brother to share things with and teach things to and even argue with. And though Gabe was no replacement for Sydney, he was kind of funny, and only a bit weird, and Hadley had decided she liked bugs—at least some kinds. And the house was big, and the yard was beautiful, and the leafy suburb was much quieter than the apartment in the city. Why had she wished her new life away? Why couldn’t she just have been happy?
As she sat there pondering how it had all gone so wrong, she threw rocks and twigs into the flowing water. She shredded wild grass until her fingers turned a sickly green, tossing the strands into the water and watching them sail onward, imagining them drifting all the way to the Monongahela, then flowing farther toward the Allegheny and on into the Ohio. And from there perhaps all the way to the Mississippi. And all the while the sunshine warmed her cheeks, and the gentle breeze blew the fear from her bit by bit.
“… and of all the invertebrates, they are the only ones that can distinguish sounds…”
Gabe talked about insects and bugs and his berm. She was comforted by the sound of his voice.
The morning stretched on into afternoon. Hadley watched a lone water spider struggling against the slow-moving current. She snapped off a long piece of wild grass and guided the spider safely toward some rocks near the bank.
“I’m glad you moved here,” said Gabe suddenly.
Hadley looked at him and frowned. She definitely couldn’t agree.
“I know this may be really hard for you to believe…” Gabe cleared his throat. “But I don’t have a whole lot of friends.”
Hadley examined Gabe closely—his unkempt hair, his shirt with the stitching on the shoulder coming undone, his filthy fingernails. She knew there weren’t many kids who would appreciate his intense interest in dirt and bugs, but once you got past that, Gabe was a pretty nice guy.
“Promise me something?” she said.
“Sure.”
“If I did … If I was … I mean were…” Hadley struggled to find the right words. “If I suddenly were to leave without saying goodbye … will you promise you’ll come looking for me?”
Gabe frowned. “Why? Are you planning on going somewhere?”
“Just promise.”
Gabe stared at her for a moment. He opened his mouth as if to say something, and then shut it again. He nodded, and then stood. “I gotta go. Grandma’s got a bunch of chores waiting for me.”
Having Gabe around made Hadley feel safe. But she didn’t know what she could say to make him stay. “I’ll help you finish the berm later,” she offered.
Gabe grinned. The grass squashed beneath his feet as he turned and strolled back toward the woods. Before he got far, he stopped and looked back. “I almost forgot. Do you still have that eye?”
Hadley flinched. “Yeah. Why?”
“Remember when we were building the berm and your shovel got stuck? Well, I excavated something from the earth—a real archaeological find!”
Hadley was almost afraid to ask. “What was it?”
“An old doll. I think your eye could belong to it. It only has one.”
Twenty-nine
I am sick with worry and fright. I do not know what shall become of me. I have pressed my brain all night and all day to figure a way out of my horrific bargain.
Papa has had his operation and lies in his bed recovering. Doctor Fenton provided him with an adequate dose of ether to dull the pain. Papa is so very brave. He did not cry out once during the procedure. The doctor has instructed Frau Heinzelmann to change Papa’s dressing regularly and keep the wound clean. She tosses the old bandages in a waste bin in the kitchen.
I sit at the table clutching the doll Papa made for me what now seems like so long ago. It has been my only comfort since things began to go awry.
“I caught the kobold,” I confess to Frau Heinzelmann.
She glances at me and narrows her eyes. I know she does not believe me.
“And how did you accomplish that?” she asks, setting dirty dishes into the washbasin. She has left a paring knife on the table. It sits in front of me, its blade catching the light, gleaming.
“I set a trail of bread crumbs leading from the chimney,” I say absentmindedly. I smooth my doll’s pretty pink dress. She looks at me with her large glassy eyes.
“And how do you know you caught a kobold, then?” she says, pointing her pudgy finger at me. “The chimney is an unlocked door. A gateway to the unknown. Any number of things may enter through it.”
I pause and wonder. Did I in fact catch a kobold? Or is it something much darker?
“You had best be careful,” she says. “There are wicked things out there. Things that will not think twice of killing you, tearing out your soul, and keeping it in their pocket like a prize.”
My throat goes dry as desert dust. Now more than ever I question all I’ve done. “B-but … what if I promised this creature something?” I say. “What shall I do then?”
Frau Heinzelmann continues to scour the dishes, pots, and pans while she thinks. “Then,” she says finally and resolutely, “like the pretty maiden from Rumpelstiltskin, you must find a way to outsmart it. Trick it, or pay the price.”
I think of what the creature has asked of me. I think of its exact words. “If you promise to give me something in return…”
And suddenly, Frau Heinzelmann’s words resonate inside me and I have a solution. I know what I must do. I spring to my feet.
“Oh, thank you,” I say. “Thank you so very much!”
She smiles at me and shakes her head. And when the woman’s back is turned, I snatch up my doll and then tuck something else into the fold of my skirt. I hurry out of the room to summon all my courage and prepare for the dreadful act.
That night I wait for Frau Heinzelmann to leave and for Mama and Papa to sleep. The house moans and groans and I know it is time. I know what must be done, and though it will be so very painful, I must be as brave as Papa, for there is no other way.
I use the knife I pocketed from the kitchen. It takes all my strength and energy to make the extraction, but once I have accomplished the horrid task, I stagger, one step at a time, down the staircase.
I nearly fall twice, but catch myself at the last moment on the railing. My heart thuds in my chest; my insides are like jelly. The blood-soaked bandages are wet against my face and I feel the copper-tasting liquid trickle down my cheek and onto my lips.
I manage to make it to the fireplace, where I drop to the floor, hang my head, and wait. I hold the vile thing in one hand, keeping my fingers clenched tight around it. My stomach churns at the thought.
“Do you have them?” I suddenly hear the creature say. “Do you have the eyes?”
I lift my head, and with my one good eye I see the little girl with the long white hair and black eyes standing before me. She sees my face and snarls. “What’s this?”
“I—I promised you something,” I choke out. “I did not promise you things. Therefore I only owe you one eye, not two.”
I detect a slight quiver in her thin lips as they curl into a malevolent scowl. “Ah, but my meaning was quite clear.”
“As were my wishes,” I say confidently.
She pauses briefly and then sighs, as though my courage amuses her. “You shall have your way. I shall take the one.”
I hold out my hand, my fist clenched tight.
“It is yours,” I say firmly, “in fulfillment of my promise. But then we are finished. You must leave this house immediately. For I do not wish to see you—with my one eye—ever again.”
Slowly, carefully, I uncurl my fingers. Sitting in the palm of my hand, sparkling in the dying light of the fireplace embers, is an eye. She snatches it up greedily.
“You shall have your final wish!” she says.
As I watch her disappear into the darkness a small smile curls my lips.
