Young Writers Society

The morning Lucy woke up, the fire was out and instead of a person, a ripped note sat beside her. Someone had swaddled her in all the blankets. Although comfy, Lucinda shook herself awake and carefully examined the note, taking a good minute to actually read it. Lucy was still learning to read (although she was slightly advanced compared to other kids), but really, Frank’s handwriting was ungodly messy.

‘I went to work. Today, do all the house chores. Don’t be out long, the snow is thick. I want everything done before I get home. You know the rules. No leaving the property, no hunting, all the fun stuff. Bye’

Lucy sighed. Well, at least she got to stay inside today. It was six in the morning and the sun was still just peaking through the foggy morning. She’d have plenty of free time today. The question was what to do! Oh, well. Maybe she could play in the snow later, or dance to the radio. It was more fun to do it when Frank wasn’t around. He would laugh whenever she tripped over her own feet. She stretched her arms into the air and waited for them to crack. Then, she ran to boot up the old radio tucked into the corner, grabbed her broom, and got to work.

At seven, she cleaned up the bedding from their sleepover and fixed up their room. Lucy’s strategy when it came to chores was to go from room to room. Make the beds, sweep the floor, dust the vanity, and change into her day clothes. She would’ve tied up her hair, but she had no idea how to.

Then came the kitchen. First, she washed and organized the dishes. Then, she moved on to figuring out which foods were expired in the fridge and cabinets. Thankfully, only a few apples and bananas had gone rotten.

The living room was the hardest, only because it was the largest. If anything, it was really the easiest. Lucinda can put the radio on and sweep along to the music. Then she could set the table (or carpet) for dinner, and sometimes she had enough time to reorganize the bookshelves. Frank never cared for keeping them in order, but Lucy couldn’t stand the books not being in rainbow order. It just looked so bright and fun! They didn’t have visitors, sure, but it was a nice touch nonetheless. That’s why she was here, right?

She began to hum along to the tunes. For once, the songs were high-pitched and energetic enough for Lucy to sing along. Though, she didn’t really understand the lyrics. “Aurora comes from Rio De Janeiro! She dances in a little street café!” She sang, skipping to every beat as she dusted the wooden shelves of junk. She stared at some of the trinkets. A carved wooden bear sat next to a photo of Frank. He was shorter, a lot happier, and smiling! That was rare, and she lived with him! His two front teeth were missing. She did hear stories from Ms. Laurie that he had some unexpected run-ins with the dirt a lot as a kid. It was so strange seeing him without sunken eyes and perpetual eye rolls.

Here's what you'll hear each Latin lover say

You're a sweetheart in a million

Oh oh oh oooh, Aurora

With your manner so Brazilian

Oh oh oh oooh, Aurora

Just as she reached to touch the chubby bear next to the frame, she heard a knock at the door. That was… new. Nobody ever came by. Who would drive all the way up here? Did someone finally find out the truth? Was she going to be arrested? Would she be put to death?! Lucy ran to the curtains and carefully peaked her eyes out. In the end, it wasn’t the fuzz, but instead a beat-down pick-up truck. Lucinda chewed on her lip. Would it be fine if she didn’t answer it? Would they believe no one was home? Frank took the car to work, so it should be alright…

“I told ya they weren’t home!” A sassy voice squeaked. Lucinda stared at the door with the same annoyance Frank harbored. She knew that voice. Percy.

“You think I care?” A woman said. It wasn’t the same monotony of his mother’s voice. I sounded slightly more southern and younger. “You gon’ stand out here ‘till they get home if that’s true!”

“What?! I’m not doin’ that!”

“Too bad, Purses. Youse gonna freeze out here until you get on your knees and tell ‘em you're sorry!”

Lucinda weighed her options. Frank never stated that letting people in was wrong, but he didn’t say she should do it either. Did she even want an apology from Percy? She couldn’t just let him freeze out there! Lucy messed with the cuffs of her men’s overalls, then pulled her woven cardigan into place over the buckles. Gently, she opened the door. It’ll be quick, She told herself. “Um… hello?”

Percy wore a scowl and didn’t dare meet Lucinda’s gaze, but the woman in front of her was much different. Her face brightened as soon as the door tipped ajar. She had similar clothes to Lucy, but her pants were worn in and ridden with unwashable stains. It was clear she must’ve done a lot of physical work. Still, she was a lady. Her blazer was neat and free of wrinkles, and her hair was pretty and golden, more vibrant than Percy’s. She certainly tried to look her best, even as some sort of farmer or factory worker.

I’ll even rent a cottage and present you with the key,

So if you’ll marry me, and be my sweet senora,

Oh oh oh oooh, Aurora,

Aurora, be mine,

Be mine, be mine!

“Ah! Perfect. G’morning, little lady. I’m Joan, Percy’s sister. I’m an outta town-er, if you’re wondering where I’ve been,” She stuck out her hand. Lucy pulled back a moment, but soon she hesitantly opened her palm. Joan shook her hand with vigor. “I’m so glad to meet you! Lucy, right? Frank’s niece? I hope we aren’t a bother or nothin’.”

“I was just cleaning,” Lucy dug her nail into her thumb, ticking it endlessly.

“I can see that!” She complimented. In seconds, the happiness dropped down into power. Joan slapped her hand against the back of Percy’s neck. He yelped and lurched forward. “Purse, apologize.”

Percy rubbed his neck, “She threw it back at me!”

Joan wasn’t taking any of it and grabbed his ear, pulling it harshly, “She only threw it ‘cuz you threw it first! You were the one who went outside, grabbed a hardy stone, and chucked it! That is no way to treat a lady, little man!” Percy shrieked apologetically, but Joan kept a tight grip. Eventually, she pushed him towards Lucinda.

The fair boy stared at Lucy. All of a sudden, she felt self-conscious under his stare. She shrunk back behind the door. Percy dug his heels into the ground, then finally mumbled those sweet words, “I’m sorry for hitting you.”

Lucinda couldn’t help but smirk. “Thanks.”

Percy’s eyes widened. He looked back at his sister, then to Lucy, back and forth for seconds. Then, he pointed an accusatory finger at her. “See?! She didn’t say sorry either!”

Joan groaned and grabbed a chunk of his hair, pulling him back from the door. “She don’t gotta say nothing to you, purse!”

“What if she hit me first?!”

“Then I would’ve come knocking and made her apologize, but you don’t gotta accept it either!” Joan said. Percy grumbled complaints and curses to himself as he turned and left the porch. His sister sighed and looked back at Lucinda. She looked confused at the entire situation. “I’m so sorry for Purse. He gets it from ma.”

“It’s alright, ma’am,” Lucy said. Joan puffed her chest a bit when she was called a ma’am. “I don’t really mind, anyway. It ain’t the first time.”

Joan put her hand over her chest, her lip quivering with sympathy. “I’m so sorry, baby. Look, if you ever need me to punt some lil’ jerks across the Midwest, I’ll be in town until the beginning of summer. And don’t worry about Percy anymore,” She said, patting Lucy’s head. She would’ve pulled back but Joan was too fast and sudden with all her movements. “How about you talk to Frank and I’ll convince my ma that you can come over for dinner one night? A young lady like you can’t be cooped up in the woods forever! We probably make better foods than that grandpa, anywhos. You can always find me sitting on the porch in town!”

Lucinda nodded and hummed. Thankfully, Joan found that satisfactory. “Alright, I’ll stop botherin’ youse now. Stay warm, little lady!” Lucinda watched as she shoved Percy into the blue truck. The car took a minute to finally start up, and soon enough they were racing down the trail. Lucy would have to thank Frank for going slow next time.

Is it me or just my money?

Oh oh oh oooh, Aurora,

Aurora, be mine!

. . .

Frank sat at his desk, slightly upset at the fact there was no evidence that could point him in the right direction. “Whoever did this is a monster,” Chief Jenkins said, shaking his head mournfully. Frank couldn’t agree more. Lucinda was a monster, but a gentle one. Being a monster didn’t mean she was a villain; quite the opposite. Frank stared at his notepad, the pages crinkled from so much time spent in his pocket. Nothing pointed him in the right direction. Nobody could.

Should he let Lucinda take the fall? In one fell swoop, his problems would be gone. “I think my niece did it,” He would say. Sure, rumors would fly for a year or so, but he didn’t mind being a recluse until it all died down. He’d never have to deal with such messy emotions ever again, and there would never be a need to account for a lonely child’s wants and needs. But then, what would Lucy’s fate be? Would they burn her at the stake? Shoot her with a silver bullet? Drive a stake through her heart? The thought sent a shiver down his spine. It was a vivid picture. Lucy, with her doe-like eyes, wet with tears as blood soaked through her shirt as wood was stabbed through her core. How loud she would scream, how the town would rejoice when the monster was slain…

The hairs on his neck rose. No, he couldn’t allow that. Even if he (to an extent) feared Lucy’s potential, she was still just a sweet little girl. A confusing, sensitive crybaby, but a kid nonetheless. So, the next best option was to find someone to find someone he could frame.

The next dilemma, who could he put the blame on?

“Frank?” Chief Jenkins called, slapping the desk. Frank jumped awake.

“Sorry, I got distracted. You’re absolutely right,” Frank rubbed his eyes and readjusted his glasses, staring down at the case file with restrained hate. Why did this have to be so complicated?

Chief Jenkins' hard stare turned soft on Frank when he noticed the terrible negativity in his eyes. Jenkins, despite his rank, was a man in his fifties with a beard so full that one had to wonder if there was even a mouth under it. He was at least twenty years older than Frank and the rumor was that Jenkins had been in this business since he first learned how to walk. There was an unspoken, mutual agreement between the two officers. They both knew what it was like to be meant for something– From Frank’s early skills in puzzle and problem solving, to the old stories of Jenkins standing up to the corrupt Chief of Police as just a mere officer back in the day.

“Did you get any good notes from the doctor?” Jenkins asked.

Frank sighed and shrugged, “Beckwith is too off-putting to get anything good from him. All that was notable is the fact the attack happened midday. Cause’n’effect, there aren’t as many bitemarks and Miss Baker hasn’t gone into the light. Well, all that and some boy threw a rock at Lucy.”

Jenkins chuckled wryly, “The tradition continues. Barbara gave you nothing useful?”

“Yeah, you can say that. Apparently, Mrs. Baker gon’ be asleep for a week or so. I’ll be sure to visit her husband soon, but he ain’t even a suspect. Man can barely get himself to the bathroom.”

The men shared a brief glance, then both looked at the photos hidden away in the file. Each was a low-quality photo of a gruesome scene. There was a disconnect whenever he viewed them. Lucy couldn’t do this. It simply didn’t make sense! Yet… He saw what happened to Barbara.

Irene, found dead behind the chapel. She was the first. Then there was Henry, who was found next to the old bar ‘Slowly Shirley.’(He deserved it, that drunken creep.) After him, there was Wesley the gardener, then Joey, then Nila, then…

Frank closed the file. What a mess… Really, how did one little girl rope him into this? It was some dark comedy he was dragged straight into the middle of. The worst part? If he never met little Lucy, he didn’t know if he’d care that she’d be on the chopping block. A murderer was a murderer, but Lucinda was Lucy.

Who could he frame without a problem?

Chief Jenkins rubbed his neck, “You’ve got somethin’ on yer mind, William. What’s wrong?” He said in a fatherly voice.

Frank leaned back in his chair and heard his back pop. “Not sure. It’s just… Who and why, you know? I’m supposed to figure it out, but there’s nobody we can point to. No connecting dot,” He lied, “No… Nobody.”

Jenkins sighed along with him, his shoulders naturally stiff. “Well… At least Beckwith’s been helpful, ay?”

Beckwith. It hit him like a truck. Not a soul in town knew him. No one knew where he was from, who he was, nothing. Not even the college he went to. The only reason people interacted with the man was due to the fact he was one of the only doctors in town, and he was always right about if someone was on death’s doorstep or not. It made him respected, but not well-liked. Nobody in a small, middle of God knows where town would be surprised if the suspicious doctor, with all his strange witchcraft in this thing they called ‘modern medicine,’ was taking joy in forcefully sending people to his clinic. Especially now that they weren’t dying anymore. Beckwith found a way to make business through sucking the blood from his victims through the black magic that was syringes and prescribed drugs. Nobody would suspect a thing.

Then one last problem slapped him across the face: When he could blame Dr. Beckwith, what would be done with Lucy? She needed to learn how to control her cravings, how to suppress them, and how to take sips at a time from cats and dogs. Like asking a baby to stay away from their mother’s milk. Could she even do it?

“Very helpful indeed.”

. . .

Lucy’s chores were finished before the clock hit three. A new record! Lucinda cheered as she dumped the last bit of dust outside. Sadly, with a newly cleaned home, Lucy spent the rest of the day bored out of her mind. She read and reread every book she could reach on the shelf, though often threw Frank’s personal collection back. They were all so boring and bland. Just crime thrillers and Shakespeare to keep whatever went on in his adult brain occupied. Sometimes she would grab the newspaper, but it was always the same depressing news over and over. Either it was talk of the town murders or talk about the war going on outside. Lucinda constantly had to change the radio stations to avoid hearing about the bombings. She already had enough going on.

After books came the dolls, after dolls came snack time, and after snack time, usually Frank was home. So, there she waited with a spoon in one hand and a bowl of cereal in the other. She sat in front of the radio, listening to each song with a foggy mind. She couldn’t tell why, but whenever she got bored she felt her brain start turning off. She got bored when she was alone, and she hated being alone.

Them that's got shall have

Them that's not shall lose

So the Bible said and it still is news

Lucy stared up the ceiling as she shoved a spoonful of Cheerios into her mouth. It was one of the few times she enjoyed being a vampire. She never had to worry about the whole 'getting cavities' thing or 'unhealthy diets.' Frank let her eat as many sugary snacks as she wanted! She took another gulp, before finally putting her spoon down and drinking from the bowl. A small debate happened in her mind. Should they go to Joan and Percy’s place? She had no idea. Frank was known for not being the most friendly, so they could get away with it. On the other hand, this was a pretty small town and Joan seemed like a friendly lady. She talked a lot, too. It would spread around that: Gasp! The Williamsons refused a dinner invite! Shame on them! Shame! 

It was a crime to be unfriendly.

Mama may have, Papa may have

But God bless the child that's got his own, that's got his own

Lucy’s mind wandered as she wiped her mustache of pinkened milk. Did God even exist? It made feasible sense in Lucinda’s mind. If she could exist, what couldn’t? Why would a higher being make her, though? He made predators for every other animal, so maybe he thought humans needed one, too. Lucy didn’t want to be a predator. Why would he make her, then? Just for funsies? To see what an complete outcast would do? Was it even God, or was it some other power out in the cosmos that loved to torment her?

Lucinda hated being alone. Her mind ran too fast for her head to keep up.

Finally, after what felt like years of fighting her bored thoughts, the door opened. Lucy bolted upwards and ran to the door, almost dropping her plastic bowl in the process. “Frank!” She called, grinning wide as she saw him groan and sigh while putting up his suitcase and coat.

“Afternoon, Lucy,” He said in a low rumble. He scanned the house quickly, then patted the top of her head, “Good job cleaning.” Frank prepared himself a bowl of Cherrios with the ingredients Lucy had left out. There weren't any coffee machines at the station, so it always surprised Lucinda that he passed out on the way home.

Lucinda puffed her chest at his approval and put her hands on her hips, “Yeah! It was super easy!”

“I see,” Frank said, throwing himself onto the sofa. He winced when he accidentally shoved his knee into the coffee table, but he was too lazy to move it. “Maybe I’ve oughta give you some tougher chores.”

Lucinda quickly shook her head and Frank laughed. “Good to know. So, how was your day?”

“Mmm, kinda weird? Some lady named Joan invited us over for dinner. Remember the boy at the doctor’s? She was his sister from outta town. She forced him to say sorry,” Lucy explained, crawling up onto the couch with him. She tied her legs together and stared at the window with him. “Should we go?”

Frank sipped from his metal spoon. He looked to the side, thoughtfully. Lucy could tell he was going over the same ideas that she did earlier. “Tonight?” Lucy nodded. Then, Frank sighed. “Alright, go get some good clothes on. Actually, no, that’s fine. Where did she say she lived?”

Lucinda shrugged, “Eh, just said she’s always on her porch. I bet just a circle ‘round town will let us find her.”

Frank threw his head back. “Of course. On the one day I’m actually exhausted.”

Lucy tilted her head. He was always super sleepy, what made today different?

. . .

“Oh, hey! Williamsons! Over here!” Joan waved her hands in the air, smiling wide as she jumped from the porch swing. Percy could be seen behind the white-picket fence, playing with a bouncing ball by himself.

“That is Percy’s sister?” Frank eyed her up and down.

Mournfully, Lucinda nodded. “Yep. Not sure how.”

Joan ran up to the pair, stuffing her hair into a messy bun as she met them. “Hey, sir. The name’s Joan. Nice to meet ya!” Joan stuck her hand out eagerly. Frank lazily reciprocated. Percy met eyes with Lucy and stuck his tongue out at her, then turning away from her and bouncing his yellow ball back into the painted blue home. “I’m so glad to meet you! See, I moved out before I could even drink! It’s so strange to be back home when I know nothing about it!” Frank cringed at how willing Joan was to share every detail. Lucinda seemed just as off-put by the welcoming manner. It wasn’t often Lucy wasn’t happy to greet someone friendly, but there wasn’t any time to question her demeanor. Still, he found it strange just how tense she looked just going near that house...

“Ah, I shouldn’t keep y’all out here in the cold. C’mon in!” Joan was quick to welcome them onto the porch, thrilled to have people over. She went on and on about how it was her first day in town and how she made it her personal mission to meet everyone and eventually have dinner with them before she went back to her husband and their cattle in the heart of Texas. Frank wasn’t much a fan of talkers. At this rate, he was about to slam his head into the drywall. “Daddy! I got someone over for dinner! Is that alright?” Before she could bring the two inside, she stuck her head in and leaned against the doorframe.

“Shouldn’t be a problem,” The man’s voice said. Frank froze in place, as did Lucy. Footsteps approached the door.

“Frank?” Lucy whispered, covering her mouth with her hand. There was panic in her eyes. “I, um,” She stuttered out her words. Frank cursed under his breath. Anyone but him. Someone spoke before Lucy could finish. He knew something was off, but why did it have to be him?

Joan stepped inside as a new figure came into frame. Unlike Joan and Percy, he had dark hair that was slicked back with sweat and grease, adding an otherworldly shine to it. His eyes were just as blue as his children’s, though. His white coat was gone, instead replaced with a casual buttoned shirt and jeans.

“Oh! What a coincidence,” His smile was thin and knowing, “We don’t meet under tragic circumstances, for once.”

Frank scowled. Of course it had to be him. Beckwith.