Horror 100 Volume 2

Rempel

His name was Mr. Rempel.

Jill learned of her seven-year-old's "new friend" one Sunday afternoon. She had dropped the last dollop of chocolate chip cookie dough on the greased baking sheet. She held out the empty mixing bowl.

Chelsea shook her head.

Jill arched an eyebrow.

"Feeling okay, honey?"

Chelsea considered this, then nodded. "Mr. Rempel says too much sugar is bad for you."

"Really now? Mr. Rempel is a teacher?"

"Oh no. He's my new friend."

Jill stiffened, feeling cold. She didn't like the sound of that.

"He's a little man who lives outside, in the tree hollows," Chelsea said matter-of-factly, and Jill felt the tension begin to dissipate. "We talk sometimes, when I get mad or sad or just feel like talking."

"A little man? Smaller than me?"

"Way smaller. He's even smaller than a cat."

"Really? What does he look like?"

"He's not good looking, but Mr. Rempel says looks aren't everything. He knows uglier creatures than him."

Jill found herself smiling and covered her mouth.

"What else does Mr. Rempel say?"

"People throw out way too much garbage. That makes him angry."

"Mmm hmm."

"He talks about nature, about insects and birds and animals. Once he told me ants talk to each other using chemicals. He also said some male birds have pretty red feathers, but the female is all gray. Mr. Rempel says men are prettier than women."

"Ho ho! I may have to have a few words with this Rempel fellow about that," Jill protested. Chelsea broke into giggles.

"Mom, could you make a little cookie for Mr. Rempel?"

"Well, I suppose, though you might tell him next time, in defense of women, that we are the fairer sex." Her daughter nodded earnestly, and Jill laughed. She peered out the window over the sink. Emerald forest carpeted the surrounding hills.

Jill wanted Chelsea to make some friends. After she and Dean divorced, the child who loved to braid dandelions together and write poems to the moon became lost and withdrawn. When school let out for the summer, Jill envisioned the girl seated before the living room window for days on end, staring at the Vermont forest.

And an imaginary friend—well, that was something.

That night, after tucking in Chelsea, she went out to the porch and called her best friend Laura. They chit-chatted while she watched the fireflies.

It didn't take long to get to Mr. Rempel.

"Where do you think she got the idea?" Laura asked.

Jill softly swirled the red wine in her glass. "School. You know that age. They all study ecology. Being nice to the trees, animals and Mother Nature."

"And Father Rempel."

Jill cackled. "He sounds like a lovable little wood sprite."

Now Laura laughed. "You don't sound concerned."

"It was my idea to move into a fixer upper in the boondocks. Imaginary playmates come with the territory."

Once the workweek began, Jill forgot about Mr. Rempel. Their old longhair cat, Princess, had to be rushed to the vet. Bouncer chewed up her favorite silk blouse. And at the office, one of her clients turned out to be straight from hell, snarkily rejecting every logo design she created. Twice, she picked up Chelsea late from day care.