The Giggler Learns to Dance - Shortlisted - Open Novella Contest 2020

Chapter Thirteen - To Live in Hearts We Leave Behind

(The title for this chapter is based on a quote I love by Thomas Campbell - 'To live in hearts we leave behind is not to die.') 

Chapter Thirteen 

To Live in Hearts We Leave Behind

The night, it seemed, was punctuated by times of immense noise and absolute silence. Silence, Alice decided, was the worst. 

In the wake of the Giggler's healing light vanishing from the world forever, the silence only lasted a mere moment. Certainly not long enough for Alice to understand the deep chasm that had opened within her chest. 

The Mance's victory was just as brief. 

His ruby red lips curved into a smile that disappeared at the sight of the small boy that had dashed across the Square and was now kneeling by the Giggler's collapsed body, striking a match with shaking hands. 

Topher. 

Alice's blood ran cold at the sight.

The fabric of the top hat, however magical, was not immune to flame. It caught fire with a single flicker, as the Giggler had promised it would. Topher dropped it to the ground, lighting more matches and setting it alight from more angles, fumbling but still managing to get the job done. 

Alice held her breath as the Mance threw out his hands, his face screwed up in utter horror and grief at the sight of his beloved hat being destroyed. Dark magic flowed from his every pore toward the little boy that Alice had come to love. 

She screamed, leaping upward to throw herself against the Mance once more. 

"Run, Topher!" 

Her scream, it turned out, was not necessary. When she fell to the bandstand's floor, she landed hard against the wood, her skull smacking dangerously against the surface. Rising slowly, Alice's breath caught in her throat. She seemed to have landed through the Mance.

The Mance was gone, his bandmembers disappeared into thin air leaving behind an empty bandstand.

Numbly, Alice dragged herself to her feet and surveyed the Square. From every angle, she saw adults, looking at the children of Ryndale with wide, horror-filled eyes as they were freed from the Mance's charm and recalled what had happened to them. 

Children and parents ran to each other, grandparents sobbed and babies cried as the frigid air of the early November morning seemed to hit them all at once. Overhead, the Jack-O'-Lanterns flickered once more before dying out completely. 

Dazed, Alice felt her body began to shake, adrenaline coursing through her violently.

"Ally? What happened?" Alice turned to see her father pulling himself to his feet by the side of the bandstand, his face pale and drawn. 

She ran to him, gripping his waist in a tight hug. She wanted to cry or scream, but she knew it wasn't the right time. He smelled so perfectly of peppermint and musk. Her father kissed the top of her head and she pulled back to look up at him. 

"I'll explain soon. But now, I have to do something." 

Her father frowned but did not stop her as she pulled away and walked down the steps of the bandstand and toward Topher. He sat on the cold ground, his back to her. His shoulders were shaking perhaps from both the cold and tears. He flinched when she touched him lightly on the shoulders, but relaxed at the sight of her scuffed school shoes when she stood next to him. 

Alice sat down next to him, before the Giggler's body. The sight of his missing hands was nauseating, but still, all Alice could focus on was his pale face. His eyes were closed, but he looked relaxed, almost peaceful.