The store was an old place. It had stood there for as long as she could remember. Certainly, she had memories of going there with her own parents and besides maintenance to keep the place appealing, it had changed little across the years. It was the kind of place that attracted as many adults as children, dedicating much of its shelf-space to traditional items and avoiding much of the mass-produced modern goods that required assembly and were constructed from brightly colored plastic.
As she pushed open the door, a bell sounded delicately above her head and the elderly lady behind the counter peered over the rim of her glasses and smiled a gentle, silent greeting. She raised a hand in return and waved the child past her into the leftmost aisle.
The store had a quiet to it. A few parents wandered about with their children but whether it was the winter in the air or simply the atmosphere of a toy store from a bygone era, they remained muted as they held hands and remarked on the splendor of pale porcelain dolls, hand-painted tin soldiers, or ornately furnished wooden doll-houses.
She watched the child go ahead of her, scanning shelves intently while she followed, allowing the atmosphere of the place to seep into and relax her. Something in the shining bare wood floors with their delicate scent of polish, and the traditional products and decor had a calming effect. She quickly forgot the emotion of the exchange in the car and she smiled as she glided about the aisles.
Why he was so intent to remain behind she was not sure. He hadn't seemed keen to leave the cabin at all that morning, now she thought about it. Things had been so strange of late. His affection remained, she was sure. But there was a distraction, and an anxiety in him. He was drinking more. Smoking more too but he maintained that there was nothing the matter. She had hoped that when he suggested the weekend away, it might be an opportunity for things to improve. And maybe it would be. She would make lunch when they returned home. Perhaps some time alone and a home-cooked meal would do him good. Perhaps they would go out on the water before dark. She smiled. That would be good. They always enjoyed their time together on the lake.
She had stopped to look at a porcelain doll dressed in a fluffy brown snow-suit when she first noticed the little boy. She had the doll in her hands, and was remarking to the child on how soft the material of the clothing felt, when the muted high-pitched giggle reached her ears. She turned quickly and spotted him with his hand across his mouth, darting quickly out of sight and around the corner of the shelving that formed the end of the aisle. He was a cute little thing, perhaps the same age as her daughter, wrapped up in a bright autumn jacket and a light woolen hat. She looked to the child, "Does he want to play with you?" The child appeared uninterested. She continued up the aisle, scanning the shelves intently. She cast a brief glance across her shoulder and caught the giggling boy darting out of sight again. "I'm sorry," she called. "She doesn't want to play today." The giggling continued around the corner but the boy remained out of sight as she smiled and shook her head and continued along the aisle.
The child was going through such an odd patch of late. She was so clingy with her and only her. She appeared disinterested in socializing. She was reverting in her communications. She would have to visit a pediatrician if it continued. It had already been suggested, but he was against the idea. There was nothing wrong with her, he said. A doctor was out of the question. She had agreed to give it a little longer, but eventually it would become a necessity. Why was he so against the idea of the doctor? He always claimed that she had been too quick to refer problems to the medical professionals, hadn't he? That could be it.
She had wondered if there could be any other explanation, anything darker. It would make sense wouldn't it? The child might withdraw if she was being harmed. He might not want a doctor to intervene for some fear that he would see some physical or mental indication. It was natural to fear such a thing, was it not? But, with time and observance she had concluded with some relief that this was not the case. He was never alone with the child, for one. Furthermore, the child seemed so radiant when he was with them. So much happier. She seemed to glow. Except for when he drank and when he smoked. She didn't like that. It hadn't always been an issue, but lately it seemed to bother her a lot. Her little face would turn down with worry and she would look at her beseechingly as if asking her to stop him. Why, she did not know. He had never been a loud or abusive drinker, even when the regularity and volume seemed to have increased. The child was old enough now to understand that it wasn't healthy, perhaps. It could even be as simple as the smell, she supposed.
She had asked of course, stomach twisted and skin paling, if he had ever done anything strange when he was drunk, but the child had shaken her head adamantly. No, the explanation didn't fit. She loved her daddy and her daddy loved her. For any fault he had ever displayed, he had never shown a propensity for such perversion. She felt guilty even thinking about it again. She pushed the thoughts aside and trotted up the aisle. "Wait for me," she called as she watched the child round a corner and move to the next aisle.
As she turned the corner, she looked back and saw the boy in the hat again, giggle muffled behind his gloved hand. And behind him now a woman who was presumably his mother casting a curious look along the length of the aisle to determine the source of the child's amusement.
With the two out of sight she thought no more of them, followed the seemingly impatient child along the next aisle as she scanned the shelves. The silence of the place had a near palpability to it, as if sound was absorbed by the very fabric of the place and replaced with something else. The nature of the toys upon the shelves changed. Dolls and soldiers gave way to stuffed figures of varying sorts.
She stopped to admire a teddy bear. It was traditional, the flannel variety, with shining button eyes sewn to its perpetually frowning face. It reminded her of one she'd had as a child. Had it been a gift from an uncle? She couldn't quite recall. She called the child again and presented the stuffed bear. "Mommy used to have one just like this." The child shook her head, disinterested and continued on her way. She paused to place the bear back upon its spot on the shelf, stroking his head in farewell when she spotted the boy again, peering between the shelves at her, his face flushed with laughter. "Boo!" she called with a grin, and he scuttered out of sight once more, presumably back to the arms of his mother. It would have been so nice to see the child interact and play. She yearned to see a smile upon that little face again. It seemed like so impossibly long ago that she had seen it last.
As she turned the corner into the third and final aisle of the store, she caught sight of the elderly shop lady, peering. Keeping an eye on the children perhaps. No doubt they had their share of rascals in even a quiet little store like this. Perhaps she should keep an eye on the giggling boy, she thought. He seemed like he might have a streak of troublemaker in him. Not her little girl though. So serious, so focused on whatever little item she wished to add to her collection of toys today. In some ways she wished she would show a little streak of mischief-making. At least then she could be reassured that she was normal, that nothing sinister underlay her somber little exterior.
She saw the child motion to her now, her face brightened by something upon a high shelf. That sight was a reassuring one! The sudden brightness in the eyes and the upturned corners of the mouth. Please just don't let it be something expensive, she thought. How terrible it would be to erase the rare joy from the child's face.
She trotted up the aisle to meet her and followed the view of her pointing finger to a brightly colored stuffed animal. She stood on tip-toe to reach it, turned with it held before her. "This one?" She smiled and turned the the toy in her hands. It was a hand-stitched plush animal, bright and soft to the touch. It was a striking little thing, eye-catching. "You're sure this is the one you want?" she asked as she turned the underside of the packaging to face her in search of a price-tag. At least it's hand-made, she thought. You pay for quality. If he asked her what it cost, she would shave a half from the truth and still be chastised, she predicted. But to see that smile - she looked again to the child and her heart warmed - was worth it.
"Okay," she said, smiling. "Let's go pay." She fumbled within her purse as she made her way to the front counter where the elderly woman at the counter peered at her from above her glasses and a magazine. The woman looked like she was on constant watch, but smiled. It was a strained looking effort that was all thin lips and no eyes.
"We'll take this," she said as she handed the toy across the counter. The lady accepted the toy in her hands, paused for a moment, appeared to consider saying something, but did not. She turned the package in her hands. "A beautiful little toy. Such colors." She smiled again, still no sign of the action extending to her eyes or even causing her lips to part. "That will be thirty dollars."
She fished the bills from her purse and passed them across the counter as the shopkeeper put the thing in a plastic bag with handles. "Worth every cent just to see the smile on her face." She turned to look at the child and grinned as she took hold of the bag and moved to leave.
The old lady peered across the counter and smiled that same, narrow smile.
"Of course," she said. "Worth every penny."
YOU ARE READING
Song, Unheard
Horror***Featured in Fright Profile*** Life has been different lately. She feels a growing sense of dread and wishes for things to be normal. His drinking is out of control. The child seems frightened and withdrawn. And then come the birds. Strange b...
