Last Trip down Memrie Lane

Chapter 8
Chapter 8

8

Harley wanted to go home. She wanted to see her friends and go to the party they were most certainly late for. She was scared. When was this going to stop?

The party was boring and slow. Lots of old people walked around talking about this and that, laughing fake laughs at jokes, or else discussing business and other things which Harley found very uninteresting.

This was the annual Halloween masquerade ball, the annual fancy-music and fancy-dress party, the annual un-entertaining get together. If there was one thing which the Memries did not know how to do well, it was entertain. Everyone was forbidden to use their powers while others were around. Of course on any normal day Harley and her siblings would secretly use their powers in the privacy of their own rooms, after they had been excused for dinner and safely out of ear and eyesight of any guests, but now, with so many people in the house, it was hard to for Harley to use her power for anything. And so, just like every year, she was very bored.

She had already snuck away from the other children who her father had told her to entertain as they were the children of his business associates. So the only option she could stumble upon (and one which she did not find daunting in the least) was to confine herself to her room and play with Molly.

As soon as she closed the door behind her she set her power to work, slowly but deliberately turning the corner table into a small baby’s crib and her cherished doll into her own personal child. Molly was never sad or angry except when Harley wanted to see what it was like to care for a child who was misbehaving. In those times Molly would immediately begin to pout or cry, and Harley would “turn off” her power for a while to learn what it was like to care for her child without magically turning them into a well-behaved angel.

So by the time she approached her bed this time, Molly was already lying in the crib, kicking her feet and arms in infantile bursts, wanting to be held.

“Shhh…” Harley would say before reaching down to pick her up and hold her, “I’m here. It’s ok. Mama’s got you.” And Molly would giggle and say, “Thank you, mama”.

Harley and Dolly hadn’t been playing for long however, when she heard something happen in the room next to hers. Someone was shouting, or so it sounded as it passed through the walls.

Harley quickly turned Molly back into a doll, held her tightly against her body, and walked down the hall to the next room.

“Easy Cornelius. You’ve had too much to drink,” said her mother.

A man hiccupped loudly. “Come now, Madeline. You just haven’t had enough.”

“You’re acting ridiculous. I told you before: I discuss no business without my husband present.”

“Randolph?” the man said with a slight drunken laugh, “Hah! That old codger’s got too much to worry about here dealing with you lot. Dead strange you are, the whole bunch. I hear the stories what come out of the village.”

Harley heard the loud crack of an open palm against a fleshy cheek.

Harley’s mother spoke with dangerous smoothness. “Do not speak ill of my family again, Cornelius.”

The man grunted. “You want to hurt me? You’ll have to do better than that. Here, let me show you how it’s done.” Harley saw through the slight crack in the door, a hand slap her mother’s face. The woman fell backwards, gripping the bedpost to remain standing. “A firm hand, Madeline. That’s what your husband lacks…” and then the man let out a soft hiss of curiosity and another dull hiccup. “I bet that’s not the only firm thing he lacks, either.”

Harley stood there, frozen with fear and panic. Confuse him! Harley thought furiously. Wipe his memory! Make him hurt! Use your power! Do SOMETHING, mother! She wanted to call out or rush in and stop them but she found herself frozen to the spot.

The man was on top of her, behind her, behind her down over the bed. He was pulling her costume up, slowly revealing slender legs.

Then Harley found herself throwing open the door. The man turned with wine-soaked eyes to look at the newcomer. He looked half conscious with drunkenness. Madeline looked up and Harley saw that her mother’s once beautiful face was half-covered with a red hand mark, and her mascara was streaking tear-tracks down her face.

But the face wasn’t sad-looking. Her mother looked very calm. She simply cleared her voice and said, “Harley, sweetie. Go run and get your father. He will want to hear of this man’s actions. And when he does he will not be happy.”

But before Harley could go, the man released her mother and walked dizzily to the door. He stopped only once for a moment to look at Harley. “Aren’t you a little old to play with dolls?” He said with the sour smell of wine reeking from his breath. He reached down and knocked Molly from Harley’s hands.

She saw her doll sail across the hall, hit the wall, and fall to the ground, its head detaching from the body. Cotton fluff bled from the gaping wound at its neck.

As the man walked away and her mother gathered herself up to call for her husband, Harley looked at the doll. Her eyes were frozen wide with fear and sadness. Sure she could repair it in an instant, but somewhere deep down she knew that if she did it wouldn’t be the same. Something felt wrong, as though a piece of her had been ripped in two and thrown to the floor in front of her and no amount of magic could bring it back. Her Molly was now just a doll, crudely beheaded and left to die on the floor in front of her.