Dr. Fell and the Playground of Doom

by David Neilsen

  “What, exactly, are we looking for in here?” Gail asked, looking up from the book.

  “The man’s name,” replied Old Lady Witherton. She scuttled back to the table and began inspecting the various tools of death for nicks and scratches.

  “His name is Dr. Fell,” snapped Nancy irritably.

  Old Lady Witherton raised her eyebrow while running her finger over the edge of an especially lethal-looking axe. “Young lady, there ain’t never been a mommy or daddy who named their baby Doctor.”

  “What are you doing?” asked Jerry.

  “Gonna need me some fightin’ tools,” answered Old Lady Witherton. “Y’all keep flipping pages. You’ll find it.”

  Returning their attention to the book, the children widened their eyes in amazement as Jerry turned one heavy, thick page after another, venturing deeper into the mysteries of the book. Every page was covered with tiny, handwritten notes jotted down between pencil-drawn images of hideous-looking people and creatures pulled from humanity’s worst nightmares. Interspersed were pictures of a tall man in black with a purple top hat, usually wearing something gold somewhere on his body.

  “Old Lady Witherton—” began Gail.

  “Constance, honey,” interrupted Old Lady Witherton as she set down the axe and picked up a wicked-looking spiked ball dangling from the end of a chain. “My name is Constance.”

  “OK. Constance,” continued Gail, “what is this book?”

  “A history of the crimes and horrors done to the people of the world by Dr. Fell,” answered Old Lady Witherton.

  She punctuated her statement by swinging the chain over her head and smashing the spiked ball into the wall in front of her. The three children jumped and screamed, dropping the book.

  “Oh, sorry there, little lump-muffins. Didn’t mean to startle you. Just making sure everything’s in working order for my assault.”

  The three children silently agreed to ignore that last remark and instead bent down to pick up the book. They froze, however, because the fall had jostled the right number of pages over, to reveal the very thing for which they searched. The name of Dr. Fell.

  After a moment, they stood up straight, bewildered. Finally, Gail voiced what they were all thinking.

  “Faustus Felonious Fell?”

  “The one and only,” said Old Lady Witherton, straining to pull the string tight on a crossbow she was holding.

  “Should that name mean something?” asked Nancy.

  “His…name…,” grunted Old Lady Witherton as she pulled and stretched and finally snapped the string into place. “Whew! Either that string has gone and shrunk or I really am getting old. Where was I? Oh, yes. His name means everything. It’s who he is. It’s what he is. And it’s a warning. Faustus Felonious Fell is a bad, bad man.”

  “We already knew that,” argued Nancy.

  “But do you have any idea how long he’s been a bad, bad man?” challenged Old Lady Witherton, absently swinging the crossbow in their direction. The children dropped to the ground to get out of the line of fire. “What if I told you that Dr. Fell…that evil, evil man…is well over five hundred years old?”

  She was met with blank stares of disbelief from her squatting audience. Jerry looked at his sister to confirm that she’d heard the same number he had. Gail, in turn, looked at Nancy for similar confirmation.

  “Five hundred?” asked Nancy for all three of them.

  “At least,” said Old Lady Witherton, setting the crossbow back on the table, much to the relief of the children. “I’ve found written mention of him as far back as 1512, but there are oral histories goin’ back even further.”

  “But…how is that even possible?” asked Gail, standing back up.

  “Oh my sweet, dear little dovelings. Ain’t you figured out yet what it is he does?”

  The children stared at her, either not understanding or, in Jerry’s case, not wanting to believe.

  “He steals your time,” said Old Lady Witherton sadly, answering her own question.

  Gail, Nancy, and Jerry shared a look of confused fear, causing Lady Witherton to sigh, swipe her arm across the worktable to clear a space, and sit down on the edge.

  “I suppose it’s story time,” she whispered, staring down at the floor. “Gather round, my little dovelings.”

  “I WAS SIX YEARS old when Dr. Fell entered my life,” began Old Lady Witherton. “We lived in a tiny little town in Texas on the coast of the Gulf of Mexico, where nothing ever happened. But then one day, of course, something up and happened. Something horrible. Dr. Fell came to town.”

  Her entire body shivered as the memory came over her. She closed her eyes a moment to let the unpleasant emotions pass before taking a deep, calming breath.

  “He was just a harmless-looking old man,” she continued. “Dressed as ever in his black suit and purple top hat, carrying that silly little old black doctor’s bag with the white bone handle and wearing a shiny gold bracelet. Everybody up and loved him from the start, no questions asked.”

  “Everybody except you, you mean,” said Nancy. “You saw through him.”

  “Heavens, no!” exclaimed Old Lady Witherton. “I thought he was the bee’s knees. He was funny and silly and always had a pocketful of candy to pass out to his ‘urchins,’ as he called us. Why, we’d all gather like roaches on a dung heap up and down the street for a chance to shake his hand and walk away with a sweet. When he set up shop and hung his shingle outside his door, I was first in line for a physical examination.”

  “Did he…did he build a playground?” asked Jerry.

  “Well now, no. I can’t say as he did. Not in so many words,” answered Old Lady Witherton. “But he did give us fun-starved children a proper thrill. He went and built us a carousel.”

  “Carousel?” asked Nancy.

  “A merry-go-round,” answered Gail.

  At the mention of the carousel, Old Lady Witherton’s eyes glazed over and a look of pure joy crossed her face. “Oh, it was a sight,” she said. “Two rows, each with a dozen of the most beautifully carved horses you ever did see. Watching them go round and round, you’d swear they were galloping along on their own. Children would swarm over them and race each other, as if the horses weren’t bolted down to the floor.”

  “But that’s silly,” said Jerry. “They just went in a circle, right?”

  “I suppose they must have, but it certainly didn’t feel that way to us. We all had our favorites, of course. Mine was a fine white mare I named Lollipop. She was faster than the wind, and so beautiful I couldn’t help but cry with joy every time I looked at her. She may have been carved from wood, but if so, it was the softest, finest wood I ever did see. I could close my eyes and imagine myself running my fingers through her mane, and I swear to you it felt real. I loved that horse. And she loved me. Which is why I was so surprised the first time she threw me off her back.”

  “You fell off the horse?” asked Gail.

  “Weren’t you listening, child? She threw me. I didn’t blame her, of course. She didn’t mean to. I think she got spooked by one of the other horses. But no matter. Off I sailed into the air, landing on a pile of rocks poorly located to the side of the carousel. Oh, I landed good and hard and heard a number of things break, and a part of me wondered how I could possibly still be alive. I screamed something fierce, my whole body trembling with an agony I shall never forget.”

  “What happened to you?” asked Jerry.

  “Why, Dr. Fell happened, of course,” she answered, her entire demeanor souring at the mention of his name. “In the blink of an eye he was there, gathering me up in his arms. He carried me inside his doctor’s office and…well…the next thing I knew, I was all better. He gave me an extra piece of candy that day, and I fell in love with him all the more.”

  “That sounds familiar,” noted Nancy with a frown.

  “Oh, my dovelings. I told you, he’s been doing this for centuries. He has his system down pat.”

  “How badly were you i
njured?” asked Gail.

  “You know, I honestly don’t know. Looking back, I would guess pretty bad. At least a broken leg, if not worse. But Dr. Fell worked his magic, and I climbed back up on Lollipop the very next day.”

  “Weren’t you scared?” asked Gail.

  “Are any of your friends scared of playing on his foul, evil play structure?” challenged Old Lady Witherton, pointing one of her fingers at Gail’s chest. “Even when they’ve broken an arm the day before?”

  The three kids all shook their heads with understanding.

  “Then, of course, Lollipop threw me back into that rock pile the very next day. It never occurred to me that maybe there was something wrong with the carousel. I simply wasn’t holding on tight enough. So after Dr. Fell once again brought me inside, fixed me up good, and gave me an extra piece of candy, I vowed nothing would make me let go of Lollipop’s luscious mane. I gripped it as tight as a schoolboy gripping his lunch money when he walks by the school bully. Nothing was going to make me let go.”

  “She threw you again, didn’t she?” said Nancy.

  “Of course she did! And the next day and the next. For thirteen long days I repeated this pattern. Each time becoming more obsessed, more focused, more determined than ever to hold on.”

  “What about your parents?” asked Jerry. “Your friends? Didn’t anybody say anything?”

  “Have any grown-ups said anything about his playground?” responded Old Lady Witherton. “This is what he does, my little dovelings. He casts his spell over a neighborhood, and everybody falls into line. I wasn’t the only child being thrown from the carousel into the rock pile, of course. All of my friends were going through the same thing in one form or another. But I daresay none of them were as swept up in his clutches as I was. I was special.”

  “Why?” asked Gail.

  Old Lady Witherton buried her face in her hands for a moment, and the three children worried they’d somehow upset the poor woman. Finally, she looked up and dried her eyes with the backs of her hands. “Because it takes my body a long time to heal from injury. I suffer from diabetes. When I break a bone, it might take twice as long for me to fully heal as it would for somebody else.”

  “Oh, wow,” breathed Jerry.

  “What? I don’t get it,” snapped Nancy.

  “Dr. Fell steals your time,” explained Jerry. “You get a fat lip that would normally take a week to heal; he heals you instantly but takes that week from your life. So if he found someone who would give him twice as much time for the same injury…”

  “You become his favorite patient,” finished Old Lady Witherton sadly. “And so I was. And when it was all over? After thirteen days of breaking bone after bone, only to be magically healed? I looked in the mirror and saw not the six-year-old girl I’d been a week before, but a young woman in her late teens. Dr. Fell had stolen my childhood.”

  Gail, Nancy, and Jerry sat in utter shock at this revelation.

  “I was born sixty-one years ago,” said Old Lady Witherton. “But I don’t look a day under seventy-five, do I?”

  The children could do little more than blink at the tragic woman before them. Perhaps knowing they needed time to digest everything, Old Lady Witherton stood and began shoving various weapons into her belt, preparing for battle.

  “And now you’re going to get your revenge?” asked Nancy carefully.

  Old Lady Witherton whirled around, eyes wide and indignant. “Revenge? That man must be stopped, my dovelings! Do you know what happened when he left my little seaside town, my dovelings? Because he did leave. Just up and walked away, a sprightly young man skipping his way down the street and out of our lives. Skipping with the energy of youth he’d stolen from me and all my friends. Do you want to know what happens to a community when Dr. Fell is through with it?”

  She snatched up the crossbow, whirled, and shot a bolt past the children straight through three beach chairs hanging one behind another on the wall.

  “The community dies,” she said. “Everyone wakes up from whatever daze they’ve been under and sees the horror of what he’s left behind. Parents, suddenly realizing they’ve been urging their children to injure themselves, divorce in shame. Kids who suddenly find themselves two or three or, in my case, over ten physical years older than they were when he arrived try to adjust, run away, or simply go insane. Everybody blames everybody else, lifelong friends become enemies, people move away, and a once-happy neighborhood is left in ruins.”

  The enormity of the situation chilled the three friends to their very bones. Each of them, however, found the inner strength to stand, determined. Ready to do what had to be done.

  “All right then,” said Gail, speaking for them all. “How do we stop him?”

  It was all Old Lady Witherton could do not to laugh.

  “We? Oh, my sweet dovelings, thank you so much for your bravery, but this is between me and Dr. Fell. He’s evil, ruthless, and vile, and I will handle him alone.”

  She immediately raised her hands to quiet the sudden arguments arising from her pronouncement. “I didn’t save you from his clutches just to turn around and let you walk right back into danger,” she said. “When I first learned he’d arrived in town, I was sure he’d come looking for me. I was scared and I failed to warn anyone, failed to do anything while history repeated itself in front of my eyes. Well, no more. If he really has come to suck up more of my time, he’s welcome to try. I don’t have all that much left for him to take anyway. But you three? You’ve your whole lives ahead of you. Go on home. Go home and forget you ever heard of Dr. Fell.”

  GAIL, NANCY, AND JERRY continued to object, but Old Lady Witherton could not be swayed. She led them out of her house on Turnabout Lane, pointed them in the direction of their homes near the top of Hardscrabble Street, gave them a stern warning about trying to follow her, then set off through the surrounding backyards toward the lair of Dr. Fell and whatever fate awaited her there.

  The children walked home in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. The revelations from Old Lady Witherton had put them in a somber mood, and each of them secretly wanted to put the whole matter behind them, if only for a moment.

  Determined to honor their promise and not interfere with Old Lady Witherton’s attack on Dr. Fell, they kept to the streets, taking the long way home rather than cutting through yards. So it was that five minutes later, they turned onto Hardscrabble Street and prepared to go their separate ways. Without saying a word, Nancy stepped out to cross the street and head home, when Gail stopped her.

  “Do you think she’ll do it?” she asked. “Do you think she’ll stop him?”

  Nancy paused a moment before answering, taking the time to gaze through the graying light of evening toward the large brick house at the end of Hardscrabble Street. “No,” she said, finally.

  “Really?” asked Gail. “And you’re OK with that?”

  “What can we do about it? Old Lady Witherton is right. We’re just kids. Dr. Fell is…he’s something bigger than the three of us.”

  “We escaped from him,” reminded Gail.

  “Only with her help,” reminded Nancy right back. “Look, I hope I’m wrong. I hope Old Lady Witherton has what it takes to stand up to Dr. Fell and his…his darkness. But I’m not holding my breath.”

  The two friends again looked down the street at the home of Dr. Fell, each imagining Old Lady Witherton alone in that dark, unfinished basement going up against the horrible creature and/or Dr. Fell. It was not a happy imagining.

  Suddenly Jerry, who Nancy and Gail had almost forgotten was there, spoke up.

  “A gold bracelet.”

  “Huh?” asked his sister.

  “When she told us her story, Lady Witherton mentioned that Dr. Fell wore a gold bracelet. I don’t remember ever seeing him wear a gold bracelet.”

  “It was a long time ago,” said Nancy.

  “Yeah, I know,” said Jerry. “But everything else was so much the same. The black suit. The purple top hat. The
black bag with the white bone handle. Even in those pictures in the book. Always the same, and always with something gold. Why would this time be different?”

  Neither of the girls had an answer. “Is it important?” asked Gail.

  “I don’t know,” admitted Jerry. “Maybe. Maybe not.”

  The conversation petered out at that point. The kids all knew they should probably head home, but none of them wanted to leave the other two. They stood motionless on the street corner, at once worried and nervous and anxious. They knew there was a very strong likelihood that something was going to happen that evening, but they weren’t sure what it would be, or if they should try to be a part of it.

  Above them, the sky darkened as the last rays of the sun sank beneath the horizon, signaling the official beginning of night.

  And something happened.

  The streetlights all blinked on at once, of course, but that was to be expected. None of the three children so much as noticed the sudden illumination of dozens of pale bulbs—none of which was strong enough to fight back the oppressive darkness descending onto the neighborhood. What did draw their attention, however, was the sudden opening of every single front door on Hardscrabble Street. This was quickly followed by every single man, woman, and child stepping out of his or her home and turning as one to walk down the street toward the home of Dr. Fell.

  “What’s going on?” asked Nancy, despite seeing events unfold before her eyes.

  “Where is everyone going?” asked Gail, despite the sudden crowd’s obvious destination.

  “Why does everyone look like zombies?” asked Jerry, despite knowing full well the power of the spell cast by Dr. Fell.

  “Mom! Dad!” cried Gail, breaking into a run to catch up to Jonathan and Stephanie Bloom, who were mindlessly strolling down the sidewalk. Nancy and Jerry quickly followed.

  The first thing Gail noticed when she caught up with her parents was the whisk clutched in Stephanie Bloom’s hand. The second thing she noticed was the frying pan carried by her father. The third thing was the look of blissful ignorance etched on the faces of both of her parents. “Mom!” she said, stepping in front of her mother. “What are you doing?”