--C.D. Tolliver
The piano sat, undusted, in the corner of the room. Everything else was meticulously spotless. There was something dark in the mahogany – a vague feeling of unease that deflected the casual viewer and terrified the cleaning staff.
Tammy stared at it. There was a black man in the wood, surrounded by shadow dressed in the darkness of night. Light fled his presence. Tammy was 3 years old. She had watched as her parents burned to death in their car after the accident, helpless. She wasn’t afraid of anything except white-tailed deer on the road on rainy nights – and Sponge Bob, of course.
It was a bright day and Tammy was mesmerized by the black figure, cloaked in dread, staring at her from the wood through the film, with dust bunnies at his feet. He looked, she decided, like a combination of Wally Cox and Jim Parsons, only taller, with ebony hair and anthracite skin, and eyes like raccoons when a car’s lights hit them at night, bright and red.
“You’re not my imaginary friend,” she said with certainty. After all, the black man wasn’t pale blue, and he didn’t have fangs so much as rows of slate shark teeth. “I’ll get a rag.” She left the room and came back with furniture polish and an old t-shirt. She carefully dusted the piano so she could see him, but not a millimeter more, because she wasn’t a servant. “That’s better,” she said. “Do you hunt deer?”
The black man flowed out of the piano like a genie and stared at her. “Generally, I eat maids,” he admitted with a smile, which would have been disturbing to Tammy’s parents, if they still lived.
“I think you are a good demon, like Socrates’, not a bad ghost," Tammy replied. Three is such an awkward age to know things. “Will you be my friend and bring me the heads of the deer that killed Mommy and Daddy?” “Of course, I will. We’re going to be good friends.”
The piano sat, undusted, in the corner of the room. Everything else was meticulously spotless. There was something dark in the mahogany – a vague feeling of unease that deflected the casual viewer and terrified the cleaning staff.
Tammy stared at it. There was a black man in the wood, surrounded by shadow dressed in the darkness of night. Light fled his presence. Tammy was 3 years old. She had watched as her parents burned to death in their car after the accident, helpless. She wasn’t afraid of anything except white-tailed deer on the road on rainy nights – and Sponge Bob, of course.
It was a bright day and Tammy was mesmerized by the black figure, cloaked in dread, staring at her from the wood through the film, with dust bunnies at his feet. He looked, she decided, like a combination of Wally Cox and Jim Parsons, only taller, with ebony hair and anthracite skin, and eyes like raccoons when a car’s lights hit them at night, bright and red.
“You’re not my imaginary friend,” she said with certainty. After all, the black man wasn’t pale blue, and he didn’t have fangs so much as rows of slate shark teeth. “I’ll get a rag.” She left the room and came back with furniture polish and an old t-shirt. She carefully dusted the piano so she could see him, but not a millimeter more, because she wasn’t a servant. “That’s better,” she said. “Do you hunt deer?”
The black man flowed out of the piano like a genie and stared at her. “Generally, I eat maids,” he admitted with a smile, which would have been disturbing to Tammy’s parents, if they still lived.
“I think you are a good demon, like Socrates’, not a bad ghost," Tammy replied. Three is such an awkward age to know things. “Will you be my friend and bring me the heads of the deer that killed Mommy and Daddy?” “Of course, I will. We’re going to be good friends.”
So this left me freaked out, intrigued of the knowledge and capability of this three year old, and then it made me laugh. "...bring me the heads of the deer..." xD
ReplyDeleteSponge Bob is pretty terrifying. As was the black man with his anthracite skin and his slate shark teeth. Creepy.
ReplyDeleteThanks for linking up.