Montpelier.

Photo by Lisa Fotios on Pexels.com

Snow swirled past the windows of the bus as it sped on into the heavy dullness of the late afternoon.

When willing the bus to turn around and take her back failed to have any effect, her thoughts turned to the future.

How could life ever be the same as it had been before?
How could she ever be the person that she used to be?
And how would she explain the changes that would, without any doubt, be noticed when she got home?

When the bus reached its next stop, she called him.

“I’m in Montpelier. But I’m coming back.”

The joy and relief in his voice told her all she needed to know.

She hugged herself tightly as she waited in the cold for the bus that would carry her northward again. It could not arrive soon enough to satisfy either of them. 

Montpelier is one of sixteen short stories in New Horizons.

A Curious Valentine’s Day.

A chilling little tale from Curious Times by Joanne Van Leerdam

“I just don’t know if I can be in the same place as her without feeling like absolute rubbish.” 

Friday meowed sympathetically and rubbed against Rory, who sat beside him on the front steps with Daisy snuggled in his lap. 

Rory stroked Friday, observing the occasional twitch of his sleek, black tail. “Don’t judge me, okay? She’s so—perfect! Everyone wants to know her and be with her. How am I supposed to measure up to that? She doesn’t even know I’m alive.” 

Friday looked deliberately at the front door of the house, and back at Rory, and then swatted him with his tail.

“I can’t talk to Rose about this. What’s she going to say? That I’m a great guy and it’s her loss? Ha!” Rory buried his face in his hands. 

“Hey Rory! Are you okay?” Amy opened the front gate and hurried down the path to Rory, sitting beside him. “What’s wrong?”

“Oh, it’s nothing…”

“Sure it is. Because you’re on top of the world. How can I help?”

“You can’t. Nobody can.”

“Ah, I see. Well, I’m here if you change your mind.”

“Thanks.” His smile when he looked up at Amy was genuine, but it didn’t hide the sadness that plagued him.

“Are you coming to the Valentine’s Day party?”

“Uh— no.”

“Oh, please come. I know it’s a bit lame, but I don’t want to go on my own.”

“Why go at all?”

“It’ll be fun. We can feast on hot dogs and cotton candy. And heaps of kids from school will be there.”

Rory groaned, and a look of understanding crossed Amy’s face. 

“Avoiding someone?”

“No need. She doesn’t know I’m alive.”

“Then she doesn’t deserve you.”

“Thanks, but unless she understands some aspect of having lost out, that doesn’t mean much.”

“You could be my Valentine.”

“What? I mean– uh… what?”

“For the party. We can go together and hang out. Maybe she’ll notice, and see what she’s missing out on.”

“Thanks for the offer, but I don’t need a pity date.”

“Oh, Rory, it’s not pity. It’s— we’re friends, right? Friends do things together. Friends hang out. So come with me and hang out, and help me eat all the hot dogs that the popular girls won’t touch because they’re fattening, or not vegan, or whatever.”

Rory shook his head as he stood up. “There’s no reason for vegans not to eat hot dogs. Everyone knows there’s no meat in those things.” 

Amy laughed. “I’ve never thought of it that way. Come on.” She looked at the bulge in his sweater. “Are you bringing Daisy?”

“Why not? She goes everywhere except school with me. Friday can come to the party, too. No reason why cats can’t enjoy a Valentine’s Day hot dog, is there?”

***

The local park on the corner of the block had been decorated with streamers and balloons.  Fairy lights twinkled in the trees and around the rotunda, where a DJ had set up his gear at one side, leaving most of the floor free for anyone who wanted to dance. Two couples swayed there to a slow song, while others milled about the stalls and tables offering food, drinks and treats in varying shades of red, pink and white. 

“Oh, this is all so pretty!” exclaimed Amy, “Aren’t you glad you came?”

Rory looked at her with a blank expression and muttered, “Kill me now.” 

“Oh come on, Rory. Have some fun!” Amy pleaded, taking his hand and trying to pul him further into the park, but his feet stayed planted where they were. 

“I don’t think I can do this.” 

“Relax. Come and get something to eat. Please?”

As they lined up for hot dogs, Rory’s eyes trailed to the next stand where some teens had set up a kissing booth, decorated with a large banner that read ‘Kisses $1’. It was hosted at present by two pretty girls who wore buttons that said “Kiss me!” and a guy in his late teens who wore a tee shirt with the slogan “Your Next Boyfriend” on the front. On a table at the front of the booth sat a large glass case with an mesh lid on it and “kiss me for free” written on the front in red lipstick.  Inside the tank, two large pet frogs sat quietly, possibly on their best behaviour in the hope of a pretty girl turning one of them into a prince. 

Amy rolled her eyes. “I guess that’s one way to make money. Look at them all lining up.”

“I’d rather have a hot dog.” Rory laughed. Yet he couldn’t help watching two of the girls in the line as they took a selfie, smiling and simpering back at themselves through the phone. 

Amy followed his line of vision and caught her breath. “Oh no… Rory… tell me it’s not Samantha you’re keen on.”

His silence was even more telling than the misery on his face as he watched his crush snap more pictures of herself and her friend. 

“Rory?” Transfixed, he didn’t realise Amy was talking to him until Friday swiped his leg with a paw. 

“Ow! What the actual–?” Rory glared at Friday, who stared right back at him with a rather annoyed expression on his own face.

“I was talking to you and you completely zoned out.”

“Sorry, Amy. I got distracted.”

“Yeah, so I noticed.”

“Wait– are you jealous?”

Amy shook her head. “Rory, as soon as that ice princess senses any vulnerability on your part, she’ll make you wish you’d never even looked at her.”  

“But–“

“Hey guys, what’ll it be?” Rory and Amy both turned their attention to the server. 

“Hey Denny! Good to see you! One with ketchup and cheese and just a plain hot dog extra, no bun, for Friday and Daisy, please.” 

Denny grinned. “Feline dates for Valentines, eh?”

“No drama, no fuss!” Rory laughed. “What are you having, Amy?”

“I’ll have one with ketchup and mustard, please,” added Amy. 

“Coming right up.” 

***

With their hot dogs in hand, they thanked Denny and walked over to a bench at the outer edge of the park where they sat with Friday between them. Daisy wriggled out of Rory’s hoodie and purred as she rubbed against Friday, who gave her face an affectionate lick in return. 

“You know, I never get tired of watching them together.” The affection in Rory’s voice matched the adoring expression on his face. 

“You’re both so beautiful!” Amy said to Friday and Daisy. “It’s all good when the affection is returned, isn’t it?” She looked up at Rory as she spoke. 

“I know, Amy. I know. Samantha doesn’t know I’m alive. She’s so perfect, and I’m–“

“No, she’s not perfect. She might look perfect, but she’s actually a horrible person.” Amy couldn’t bear to look at Rory’s face, so she focused on feeding little pieces of hot dog to Friday and Daisy. “She’s nasty, and she’s heartless. And–” 

“And what?” Rory asked, much more subdued and less defensive than Amy had thought he would be. 

“I don’t want you to be hurt. Especially by her.” 

Rory opened his mouth to speak, but attention was drawn instead by the approach of Samantha and her friend. A soft moan escaped as he nudged Amy to look up. 

“What have we here? Can you believe this, Maddy? They’re feeding the cats on a park bench. It’s like they don’t have anywhere else to go.” Derisive giggles fractured the air behind them. “Are you two homeless?”

“Go away, Samantha.” Amy only wished that the defiance in her voice could hide the deflated look on Rory’s face.”

“Ooo, Little Miss Plain has a voice!” Samantha mocked. “Go away, Samantha!” she mimicked in a cruel whine. “And does your friend Mr Nobody have a voice too? Or does he just sit around feeding his dinner to cats and looking pathetic?”

Friday turned his head to look directlyly at Samantha, then at her giggling friend and back again, his whiskers and tail quivering with anger. 

“Better look out, Samantha. You know what they say about black cats.” Maddie laughed, crowing over her own cleverness. 

“Ohhh no, the poor widdle homeless kitty is angry with me!” she squealed, laughing and recoiling in mock terror of Friday, who stood with his hackles raised and his tail twitching at the end. 

Rory stood up at the same time, and took a step toward Samantha. “Cut it out! Just stop! You might look amazing, but your particular brand of ugly goes right to the bone.”

“Is that so?” she laughed. “You’ve been having a pretty good look lately, though, haven’t you?” Maddy cackled mindlessly in agreement. 

“They weren’t kidding about you being an Ice Princess!” Rory spat back. At that very moment, Friday leapt from the bench, arched his back and hissed at the hateful girl.

Maddy’s laughter stopped short as she saw her friend stiffen and freeze as she began to transform into an icy statue. Her face froze in mid-sneer, creating an expression on her face as ugly and hateful as her words had been. A blue tinge spread over her skin before it became clear and glassy; underneath, the flesh and bone turned opaque, then solid white and then transparent; only her heart could be seen, as black as deepest night within her, still throbbing at its normal rhythm and pumping murky fluid through inky veins that pulsed with every beat. 

“Samantha! No!” Maddy screamed. She turned to face Rory. “What have you done? How did you do this?” 

“I didn’t do anything,” Rory replied. 

“It was that cat!” Maddy growled and pointed at Friday. “You evil little—“

“You’ll want to be nicer to him then, won’t you?” Rory quipped, earning himself a scowl. 

“Whatever this is, she did it to herself,” Amy agreed, folding her arms defiantly and looking directly at Maddy, although she avoided looking at Samantha’s gelid form. 

“Is– is she dead?” Maddy’s voice was timid now, all traces of mockery having been banished.

“I don’t know. Her heart is still beating, if that means anything.”

“B-b-but she has n-no brain!” Maddy wailed.

Amy raised her eyebrows and tilted her head in ironic amusement. Rory gave her a wry grin and shrugged silently in reply. 

“Samantha!” Sobbing, Maddy reached out to touch her friend, but as soon as she did, her own fingers began to turn to glass, the frost of transformation spreading slowly up her arm. 

“NO! Make it stop!” she squealed. “Someone, help me! Please, no!” Her cries were pitiful, but Rory and Amy remained unmoved. 

“You’re the only one who can do anything to stop this, Maddy.” Amy spoke quietly and calmly.

Maddy held her breath and began to shake as her hand and arm turned white, then transparent, just as Samantha’s whole body had done. 

“How? Tell me how to make it stop,” she begged tearfully, “I don’t want to freeze, and already I can’t feel my hand or my arm.”

“Be willing to step away from Samantha and stand on your own, I suppose.”

“I can’t. I don’t know how.” 

“Try moving your feet. The rest of you has to follow.”

“But she’s my friend…” 

“You have to choose.”

“I’m going to get Trixie,” Rory told Amy as he tucked Daisy safely back into his hoodie. “She might know what to do. You stay here with Maddy?” 

Amy nodded and then continued as Rory jogged away, “You have to let go, Maddy.” 

“I can’t. I’m stuck to her.”

It was true. Her arm had turned to frosted glass as far as her shoulder, yet it was still firmly attached to her own body, so that even as she tried to pull away, her arm held fast to the ice princess beside her. 

Rory returned with Trixie who sucked in her breath at the sight of the statuelike teenager and her partially frozen friend. 

“Trixie, this is Maddy. The other one is Samantha. I’m not exactly sure how this happened–“

“It was that cat!” Maddy avoided looking at Friday, but her accusation was loaded with malice.

“I know exactly how it happened.” Trixie wore an expression of grave disapproval as she spoke. “If all you do is treat people horribly, Maddy, sooner or later everyone will see right through you.”

“How do I make it stop?” Maddy’s voice shook. 

“There’s a very special kind of magic that you need.”

“Magic?”

“That’s right.” 

“Like the cat is magic.”

Trixie rolled her eyes. “Stop blaming Friday.”

“I suppose you’re going to tell me he’s just a regular cat.”

“Oh, I’d never suggest any such thing!”

“Well I don’t know how to do any magic.”

“You just need the right ingredients,” Trixie said. “Remorse, apology, and change.”

“What?” Maddy’s voice rose into a squeak. “How are they ingredients for magic?”

“Maddy, your problem isn’t needing some kind of herb or a spell. Your problem is that you don’t realise that your hatefulness is poisoning you. You need to be truly sorry for the hurt you’ve caused, and you need to say so, and then you need to change your ways. That’s how to undo this.” 

“Okay. I’m… I’m sorry.”

Instead of melting, though, the pace of the freezing actually sped up, causing her shoulder and chest to stiffen.

“It’s not working!” she cried out. “It hurts!”

“You have to mean it, Maddy. Lying to save your own skin is only going to make it worse. You have to realise that every time you’ve been cruel to someone, you’ve sent coldness into their heart. You’ve made their feelings freeze. You’ve caused hearts to break, bit by bit.” 

“It wasn’t me! It was Samantha. She said all the mean things, not me!” As her torso began to turn white, tears of self-pity crystallised on the skin of her cheeks, now ashen with a hint of blue. “Please! Save me!” she whispered, before her voice fell silent and her lips stopped moving. 

Rory, Amy and Trixie stood quietly, gazing upon the frozen girls in front of them. Friday sat on the park bench nearby, licking his paw and washing his face with it. 

“That is an incredible ice sculpture!” exclaimed a man who was leaving the park with his children. “Did you make that?”

“No,” replied Rory. “Two teenage girls made it. But they’ve gone now.”

“Teenage girls, eh?” the man responded. “Unbelievable!” 

As the man walked away, Rory shook his head and said quietly, “Sir, you have no idea how right you are.”

A Curious Valentine’s Day.
#ValentinesDay #darkfiction #shortstory

Friday features in Curious Things and Curious Times by Joanne Van Leerdam

The Burning Question

The teacher placed the stack of papers on the table and addressed the class. 
“Thank you for your essays. Are there any final burning questions?”

Most deliberately avoided her gaze, but one girl raised her hand, initiating a chorus of groans.

“Yes?

“Why do you always wear black?”

Insolent laughter erupted around the classroom.

The teacher nodded. “Fair question. It’s camouflage for my sense of humour— or my soul. You choose.”

She shrugged, and the collected papers behind her burst into flames then powdered into ashes.

She smiled at their silence. “Perhaps you’ll all be more respectful from now on!”

The Final Blow

Image by Geanette Saad 2019. Used with permission.

“How many times do I have to tell you not to pick your nose?”

Sam sighed. All he wanted to do was dislodge those crusty bits that stabbed the inside of his nostrils every time she made him blow into a tissue, and remained there stubbornly regardless of his efforts with the tissue. Those things hurt, and they didn’t let go on their own.The best way to remove them was gently, with his favourite finger, and then flick them into the bin.

She should just be thankful he never wanted to eat it. He didn’t understand how other kids could. Just the other day when they had gone out for lunch he had watched another boy in the restaurant eating his booger off his finger before picking up a chicken nugget and eating that. He shuddered at the thought.

“You don’t know what damage you might do in there, Sam. Please, just use a tissue and blow your nose, and let me get this last jack o’ lantern done for tonight.”

As his mother turned away to finish carving the pumpkin, Sam defiantly slid his finger back up his right nostril, where he found a great big pointy one, shaped just like the witch’s hat that already sat on a carved pumpkin on the porch by the front door. This was possibly the biggest and pointiest one yet, like a miniature mountain that had grown to dominate the inner landscape of his nose. Just as his fingertip reached for its peak, his mother looked over at him. 

“Sam! Get your finger out of your nose! Now!”

She ripped a couple of tissues from the box on the sideboard on her way past and almost slapped them over the lower half of his face. 

“Blow!” she demanded. 

As he exhaled, she pinched the tissue around his nostrils. Sam began to protest as he felt a sharp stab deep inside his nose and the powerful jolt of a momentary headache, followed by a strange sensation of being lighter and freer than he had been only a moment before. Sam fell silent and limp  as his head imploded, collapsing in on itself like a punctured ballon, leaving his mother with an unsoiled tissue in her hand and a grimace of shocked surprise on her face.

His sweet face lay shrivelled and flattened on his shoulder on a bed of dark brown hair, eyes still clenched shut as they had been when he felt the pain in his head.

She gathered Sam into her arms and cradled him there, his face flat against her skin and a thin trail of bone dust and ash falling from his left ear. She rocked him, keening and weeping as dusk began to fall outside and late into the night that followed. 

When the moon rose high in the sky, a small, ghostly hand touched her shoulder, then took her hand and led her outside into the silvery light. She watched as the small boyish figure walked up a bright moonbeam, then turned to wave goodbye. 

She waved languidly with one hand, the other still clutching his lifeless body to her chest. 

When he was so far up the moonbeam that she could no longer see him, she laid his body on the ground and fetched a shovel. The shovel crunched into the ground beneath the willow tree time after time, until she had dug a small trench in the earth.

She leaned the shovel against the trunk of the tree, and then gently gathered Sam’s body into her arms. Silent and sombre, she carried him across the yard, whispered a few words, and lay down in the grave with him in the waning moonlight to await her fate. 

©2019 Joanne Van Leerdam

A Unicorn or Nothing.

“I want you to come in to work tomorrow.”  

“But it’s my day off!” Cassie pouted. 

“I realise that, but tomorrow’s meeting is important.” 

She remained silent.

“Look, I’ll give you a day in lieu a little further down the track.” 

Cassie almost snorted. “A day in lieu? Might as well be a unicorn.”

He frowned. “How so?”

“People like to talk about them, but everyone knows they don’t actually exist.”

“Cassie–“

“No. I must be owed ten days in lieu by now.  It’s a unicorn or nothing.”  She resumed typing, but the silence lingered until he walked away, defeated.

What’s Cooking?

A powerful new aroma rose drew demons from near and far to the enormous kitchen. 

“I smell sea salt,” moaned Festus as he wiped his drool on his sleeve.

“Do you really? I smell Vegemite!” exclaimed Provokus.

“You’re both wrong. It’s meat pies! That smell of melting, bubbling flesh is unmistakeable.” Cocky and confident, Argumentus sneered at the obvious errors of the others.

“Damn, I wanted some January 26 lamingtons, or a pavlova.” Minimus, the smallest of them all, who also had the sweetest tooth, looked very disappointed.

“Hey boss, what’s cooking?”  Festus asked.

Satan snickered as he answered: “Australia.”

Copyright 2019 by Joanne Van Leerdam

Facing The Monster.

2018-11-26 23.55.57

 

Defiant, I stood as tall as I could and faced the enormous beast.
Towering over me so that I was lost in the cold of its shadow, the monster met my bravado with silent derision.

I carried no sword, nor any other weapon, but deep within, I knew I could win this fight by using my wits. With all the strength and conviction I could muster, I growled, “As intimidating as you are, remember this: I created you, and I will defeat you.”

No longer able to maintain its composure, my to-be-read pile barely held itself together as it laughed and laughed.

 

©2018 Joanne Van Leerdam

Mind Blown

“I still don’t know what to do.” Greg’s words hung in the air, the atmosphere pregnant with frustration as his classmates’ faces mirrored the teacher’s umbrage.

The teacher glared, deliberately silent as heat flushed, dark red, up his neck and across his face. His mouth opened, but no words came. The sound of his pulse reverberated around the room, growing louder and faster as he fought for control.

The explosion, accompanied only by a vague squelch, spewed bloodied flesh and grey matter across the room. A disembodied eyeball on the floor continued to glare at Greg.

“Whoa!” he gasped. “Mind blown!”

©2018 Joanne Van Leerdam

Belly Ache.

Belly Ache

“Ohhh, it hurts.” He squirmed on his bed, gently rubbing his belly with his hands.

“Does it?” She sat on the edge of the bed and patted his arm.

“Yeah. Here… and here.”

“That’s no good.” She laid her hand on his slightly distended abdomen, finding it firm and warm to the touch. She could feel his muscles contracting as his intestines roiled and gurgled underneath her palm.

“And I’m hot.”

“Yes, I can feel that.”

“I want it to stop hurting.”

“I know. It will, soon,” she said, suppressing a wry, satisfied smile as she looked at her watch.

 

 

©2018 Joanne Van Leerdam

The Shadow.

ShadowThe child skipped down the sidewalk, laughing as she landed on her shadow. She began to stomp, landing her feet harder with each step.
Then, without warning, long shadowy fingers wrapped around her right foot while another dark, translucent hand reached through the pavement for her left. She tried to keep it in the air for as long as possible until, overbalancing, she fell to her hands and knees. As spindly, shady fingers swiftly grabbed each limb and pulled her down into the ground, her shadow leapt up, stomped hard with both feet until she disappeared, and laughed as it skipped away.

©2018 Joanne Van Leerdam

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