𝔸 𝔻𝕒𝕣𝕜 𝕊𝕖𝕔𝕣𝕖𝕥

“Is she alright?”

“I don’t know! Give me a moment, for God’s sake!”

Roxana prodded at Ash’s face, trying to determine whether the girl was actually unconscious or just trying to take a moment. Elara, meanwhile, was calming Danica down — and the youngest sister in turn was lowering the intensity of the whirlwind.

“Do you think we’ve killed her?”

“I… she’s alive?” Roxana leaned back, staring up at Elara’s vaguely concerned expression. “Is Dani alright?”

The nickname felt foreign on her tongue, and she wondered how people used them so easily. It didn’t seem weird when Ash talked about Mars, but it just didn’t sit right with Roxana.

“I’m okay,” Danica breathed, struggling upright. “Sorry about that…”

“Hey, it’s alright!” Elara said quickly — too quickly — pulling Danica into a hug. “None of us are great at controlling this yet, remember?”

“Because Roxy regularly burns the house down.”

Elara didn’t bother opening her mouth to argue — it was true.

“And you’ve only flooded the place once, so… why can’t I handle it at all?”

I left this alone for way too long and just… well. I can’t remember what I was going for, but if I do in the future I’ll finish it off.

I pull up to the house. It’s quite large, two story’s, completely white, a yellow glow coming from all the windows but one. And a large gate keeping me from pulling into the driveway. “State your name and business.” A robotic type voice commands. “Oh um Naomi, Naomi Parter. You hired me to babysit. I live down the street.” “Permission granted.” A light flashed green and the gates opened. I park my car in there drive way and make my way to the front door. Before I even touch it the door swings open, a lady stands in the door way. She tall, with short, blonde,hair, pale skin, and greenish eyes, and a grey pantsuit. Probably in her thirty’s. “Come in. Young master Thomas will arrive soon. As well as Mr. and Mrs. Foster.” The lady pulls me into what I think is the living room. “Hello, Ms. Parter. How do you do?” “I’m doing great. How are you?” I reply. “Just fine, thank you.” Mr. Foster is a short, round man. He has red hair, blue eyes, and he’s paler than the lady who let me in. Mrs. Foster is almost the complete opposite! She’s tall, fit, black hair, and has olive skin. I’ve never seen them around the neighborhood but they seem pretty nice. “What time is it, John?” Mrs. Foster asks. “Almost three.” “We must get going then. Thomas should arrive around four. The guest bedroom is on the top floor, second room. His is right next to it. All you have to do is feed him, make sure his homework gets done, and keep him entertained.” “Yes, Mam.” “We’ll be back tomorrow afternoon, Ms. Shane will be accompanying us, so it will just be you and Thomas.” “Ok.” I nod. “Good bye, Ms. Parter.” “Good luck, Ms. Parter.” I hear the lady, Ms. Shane, whisper. Almost exactly an hour later, Thomas arrives. He bursts through the front door. “IM DONE WITH SCHOOL! NATALIE! GET ME A NEW SCHOOL! AND A SNACK! I WANT A SNACK TOO!” He throws his bag in the floor and runs up the stairs so fast, I don’t think he saw me. No wonder they’re paying so much! This child’s a handful. I walk into the kitchen and swing open the cabinets to get the kid a snack. Broccoli, no. Apples, not gonna work. Brussel sprouts? Ugh I don’t want him to hate me. Cookies. Yes, that will do. I grab the plate of cookies and a glass of milk. Then I grab his bag, and hurry up the stairs. His doors locked. How does he expect to get food if he locks the door? Honestly this child is so….ugh. I knock, this job pays to much for me to quit. “You have keys, Natalie!” He yells. “I’m not Natalie.” I sigh. The door swings open, “Why are you in my house? Are you the new Natalie? Because I like the other one more!” He looks like his mother, black hair, skinny,olive skin, and gray eyes. “I’m not replacing Natalie, I-” “Get out of my house then!” “I brought cookies and milk.” He moves out of the doorway, “Well what are you waiting for? Come in, come in!” Then the boy flys! He flys to his bed! I’m babysitting a junior Superman!

When my next door neighbor passed away, there was a silver lining with her demise. She was a wonderful woman, sweet as can be, but I’d always wondered about the layout of her home. At the time of her passing, I lived in my house for over twenty years with no plans of moving. My interest was pure curiosity. I suppose it would have been easier to walk over and borrow a cup of sugar when she was alive but that seemed a bit underhanded. I was much more comfortable waiting for her to die so when the property was listed for sale, I could attend the open house.

Our houses were only a few hundred feet away from one another, about the length of each of our driveways. To play my part as an interested buyer, I hopped into my truck and drove next door. Before entering the house, I was greeted by a gentlemen named Chris, the realtor I assumed. A clean cut fellow, he seemed as buttoned-up as the buttoned down shirt he wore, each clasp secured up to his neck. The khakis he wore, his shirt and sneakers, were all white, in stark contrast to his dark skinned complexion. I felt underdressed. My cargo shorts and sneakers well worn, the wrinkled t-shirt depicted Jesus playing poker with the tagline, “Ante, Christ”.

“If you’re here to see the house, you’re too late,” Chris advised, locking the door behind him. “It’s been sold.”

Unwilling to be denied the opportunity to snoop, I asked, “Is it okay if I look around anyway? Deals fall apart all the time.”

“Not this one. It was a cash offer. I’m your new neighbor.”

I looked towards my house then back at Chris, uncertain how he knew we were neighbors. Chris explained that he watched me drive over. With an extended hand, I introduced myself, all the while plotting how to gain entry into the home.

A few weeks later, the cautioned beep of a moving van backing into the driveway alerted me that Chris had returned. Moving day is always a commotion filled event, with doors kept ajar while the truck is unloaded. After scooping up the gift basket purchased from Starbucks, I headed for the door. On the way out, after realizing I was still wearing the same shorts from weeks earlier, I sprayed a generous amount of Country Chic body spray on them. At least I had on a clean shirt.

An army of movers carried boxes and furniture through the neighbor’s front door. If my arrival was timed proper, our footsteps would be synchronized and I’d follow the movers into the house. A few feet from the front porch, Chris emerged, closing the front door behind him. He redirected the movers to use the garage for the time being. Disappointed, I handed him the gift basket and welcomed Chris to the neighborhood.

“I don’t drink coffee but thank you for your generosity.”

“You don’t drink coffee?” I asked.

“No. My body is a temple.”

“There’s already a synagogue in town.” When he didn’t respond to my lame joke, I added, “That was supposed to be funny.”

“Oh, I understood. I’m still waiting for the funny part.”

There was an uncomfortable pause in the conversation. A chilled breeze blew through the neighborhood. Fallen leaves from the Autumn that just ended somersaulted across the lawn.

Chris shuddered and admitted, “I’m not used to this weather yet.”

“I’m wearing shorts and you’re cold?” I asked.

“What’s your secret to staying warm?”

“When you dance with the devil, it’s easy to stay warm.”

A pregnant pause of silence returned.

“So what kind of work d’ya do?” I asked.

“I’m an astrophysicist. I work with gravitational orbits dynamics, studying how orbital bodies resonate and interact with one another.”

“What?” I asked, my eyes glazed over. “Was that English?”

“I work for NASA.”

I wasn’t sure why he didn’t say that the first time. Unable to comprehend his first explanation, I assumed he was bilingual.

A month passed before I saw Chris again. He stopped over, panic stricken, in search of a babysitter.

“I’ll pay you two thousand dollars a day for the next three days,” he offered. “I only have one condition.”

The offer surprised me as I wasn’t aware he had children. If he was willing to pay two grand, maybe he’d pay three. I tossed my greed aside and dismissed the idea. It was another opportunity, perhaps the last, to look inside the house.

“What’s the condition?”

“You have to tithe ten percent to your church.”

I wasn’t sure why he didn’t just offer to pay me less and contribute the difference on his own. Must have been that whole bilingual thing again.

“That’s fine,” I agreed, “but how many kids do you have? What are their names?”

“Just one. He’s a handful. My son’s name is Jesus.”

“Jesus? As in Jesus Christ?”

“How do you know my last name? I never mentioned it to you,” Chris replied, perplexed. “Or are you trying to be funny again?”

“I’m not making fun of your kid’s name, honest. I think it’s admirable that you named him after the Lord.”

“No, you don’t understand. My son is the Lord. That’s why I’m willing to pay so much to keep Him safe.”

A number of thoughts raced through my mind. Was my neighbor crazy or was he telling the truth? If it was the latter, then why choose me to serve as a bodyguard for the Lord? Most important, would I ever get a freakin’ peek inside my neighbor’s house? Uncertain where to start, I asked the first question that came to mind.

“I’m no theologian but if your son is actually Jesus Christ, then shouldn’t your name be Joseph? Or did you kidnap the kid?”

Dismayed, Chris sighed deeply and explained, “Chris is short for Christian. And I work with Gravitational Orbits Dynamics. G.O.D.”

I heard Conor talking to himself about thirty minutes after his Mom had left for the evening.

At first, I’d thought it was his TV, maybe his cellphone. At first, I thought nothing of it, but then I heard:

“Her name's Judy and she's our babysitter for the evening.”

“If you want her, then we can have her.”

It was the last line that made me deviate my attention from my phone. It made me scrunch my face up and wonder what Conor was talking about.

Conor’s voice dropped, not quite to a whisper, but low enough to where I couldn’t make sense of what he was saying.

I pushed myself off the couch and made my way down the hall towards Conor’s room. He was still talking, but I still couldn’t make sense of what he was saying. Was he even speaking English?

I gently pushed Conor's door open to see him sitting on the floor with the lights off. The only light was that of the moon as it cast through the window's blinds. He sat there staring straight, unflinching and unmoving, seemingly unaware of the fact that I'd entered his room. A chill ran down my spine and it had nothing to do with the coldness of his bedroom.

Why was it so cold? The rest of the house was fine, it was freezing in Conor's bedroom.

“Conor? Did you say something?” I asked.

Through the darkness, I could see his eyes meet mine. He said nothing, he didn't move, he only stared. I began to tremble without realizing it, unable to move. Standing there in the dark, frozen and staring at my neighbor's eight-year-old son. The Doyle's had offered me an obscene amount of money to watch Conor for the night, and at the moment, I was starting to regret it.

I tried my best to move but I couldn't, it was as if I was paralyzed by a mixture of confusion and fear. Conor started talking again, once again in a language that I couldn't understand.

"Conor? Who are you talking to?" I asked. It sounded loud in my head, but I know it came out as a whimper.

"He thinks you have a pretty face." Replied Conor.

I snapped out of it and flipped the light on. I entered the room on shaky legs. "Who thinks I have a pretty face Conor?"

I watched as Conor's eyes moved to my left. And then I heard the bedroom door close behind me. I spun around and saw...

Conor.

Only it wasn't Conor. It wasn't the boy sitting on the floor. Standing behind me was Conor but a drastically different version of him. His eyes were gaunt, his skin was tightly wrapped around his skull. His blonde hair was thin and gray. It was Conor, but he had the features of a man who was rapidly decaying.

From behind me, I could hear Conor say. "He wants your face, Judy."

And then I felt a little bite at my ankle as a needle plunged through my skin. And then my body tensed up and my world went fuzzy as I collapsed to the floor.

I tried to move but I couldn't. I tried to scream but no sound came out. I could hear two sets of footsteps approach me. I could see the decaying Conor as he pulled a large knife from behind his back.

I could feel the knife as he pressed it to the side of my face.

I felt Everything.

But, I couldn't scream.

(When Jason was young, he had a babysitter who was offered $250,000 to babysit him. Something happened to that babysitter. We shall see what happened.)

It was Saturday. The second day that Sarah was to babysit him. Jason had woken up from his bed and gotten dressed, he was ready to share with Sarah about his new game. The game consisted of his red and orange puppets and was a make-believe game. But he believed it was amazing.

He walked down the stairs joyfully, to greet the sleeping Sarah. This was when he had noticed something strange about the babysitter. Her eyes were open but she wasn’t breathing. Her eyes were also glowing purple, even though eyes cannot glow and her regular eye color was brown.

Jason felt confused, is Sarah playing tricks on him? He hated being surprised with something he doesn’t know about, that’s why he hates April Fools Day. Jason shook Sarah’s hands just as a giant purple eye looked through a window. Its eye was glowing a beam, like a flashlight, a purple beam shining on Jason. The rest of what happened to Jason that day was unknown, but it was tragic.

𝔼𝕪𝕖 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕊𝕥𝕠𝕣𝕞

It was in the middle of 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘓𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘔𝘦𝘳𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘥 (because apparently the girls did know what Disney was, even if they were never allowed outside and didn’t understand the concept of nicknames) when Ash’s phone rang. They answered it as Dani buried her head in Ellie’s shoulder during ‘𝘗𝘰𝘰𝘳 𝘜𝘯𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘶𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘚𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘴’ — apparently she wasn’t a fan of Ursula.

“Mars…?”

“Hiya!” Mars’ bright tone seemed wildly at odds with everything Ash could see, something that shouldn’t be audible in a house like this one. “Guess who I’m with?”

“Wha- how do you expect me to be able to guess that?”

“I may or may not have met with Finch and co at the shop… but, like, they’re all so much nicer than you’d expect? Even if Finch is weirdly callous, I swear, it’s kinda terrifying?”

“I really can’t picture the two of you together, you know,” Ash muttered, casting a glance at the sisters. “And my theory was right — they’re triplets, but they’re not allowed outside. They still know what Disney is, though.”

“Hm. Not allowed out, but they know about films. That’s… so weird.”

There was a rustling noise at the other end of the line, and then silence.

For far too long.

“Mars?”

Ash tried not to panic. The thought of someone finding a dead body with bright red hair was suddenly much too real, and while nothing about the three boys their best friend was suddenly talking to — out of basically nowhere, might they add — suggested that they were likely to murder anyone, the mention of Finch’s hard-hearted nature didn’t do much to settle the nerves.

“Marceline?” they tried again. “Marceline Deanett? Oh, for God’s sake, what’s going on?”

“You probably don’t want to know…” Mars’ voice trailed off, and then there was another rustling sound.

Then a new voice, one Ash only recognised vaguely.

“Ask those girls if anyone ever comes to the house to do… eh, tests on them.”

“Why on Earth would I do that?”

“Because I’ve got a theory, okay?”

Ash hung up after that, already resolving to tell Mars that there was evidently a good reason nobody spoke to Finch.

Dani was apparently trying her hardest to shrink, twisting herself into a very uncomfortable-looking position while Ellie and Roxy continued watching the screen closely.

They’d gathered that 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘓𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘔𝘦𝘳𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘥 was Ellie’s favourite film, and quite likely Dani’s least favourite, with very little effort. Hopefully working out other preferences would be as easy.

And just as Ash decided that babysitting these kids was going to be a simple job, the light above their head began to swing wildly.

It took several seconds for it to click — an impossibly strong wind was tearing its way around the room, and sending several smaller things flying — and Ash shuffled backwards on the couch. They didn’t think about where this could possibly be coming from as they beckoned for the triplets to join them, or when Roxy’s face went white with shock, or when Ellie struggled to untangle herself from a likely-dissociating Dani.

The two older sisters (another thing Ash had learnt very easily) almost threw themselves onto the couch, and the wind kept picking up. Two cushions from the chair nearer the window were tossed towards the ceiling and almost hit the light, still swinging around as though it had a mind of its own.

It couldn’t be possible.

This wasn’t normal at all.

“Danica!” Ellie shouted, her words ripped away too quickly for Dani to be hearing them. “Dani, calm down!”

They wanted to ask how Roxy and Ellie weren’t just as panicked as Ash was, but decided against it for two reasons.

One, they’d never be heard.

Two, it was a strange question to ask. And hey, maybe they were just as terrified. Maybe they were just better at hiding it?

Dani was still crouched in the middle of the room, and it crossed Ash’s mind that such a position meant she was probably in the centre of the whirlwind, but what did that little detail matter?

Instead, they struggled off the couch, and made their way over to the small girl, kneeling beside her and placing a gentle hand on her shoulder.

She screamed, then, and insanely enough the wind seemed to howl along.

And it hit them.

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘶𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘩𝘰𝘸𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨.

𝘽𝙚𝙘𝙖𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘿𝙖𝙣𝙞𝙘𝙖 𝙬𝙖𝙨 𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙥𝙤𝙣𝙨𝙞𝙗𝙡𝙚 𝙛𝙤𝙧 — 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙝𝙖𝙙 𝙖 𝙨𝙚𝙢𝙗𝙡𝙖𝙣𝙘𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙧𝙤𝙡 𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧 —𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙬𝙝𝙞𝙧𝙡𝙬𝙞𝙣𝙙.

“Oh—wow, you really shouldn’t have,” I gape at the thick bundle of dollar bills resting in my palm. It’s a ridiculous amount of cash—almost an inconceivable amount for someone as young as me.

A fair, slim woman wearing a tight bun stands beside the door, fidgeting and stealing glances down at her wristwatch. “It’s no problem,” she speaks so softly that I have to lean forward to hear her.

Charlie, the boy I’m babysitting, is standing at the bottom of the staircase. His blonde hair is unkempt, bed-ragged—suggesting a lack of sleep. He watches me through skeptical eyes. “Who are you?”

As I open my mouth to reply, a car horn blares outside the door, and the woman jumps. “Oh—my ride is here,” she startles, her eyes misty with emotion. “Please, take special care of my little boy, okay?”

My heart lurches in my chest. I wasn’t too fond of the frightened tone in her voice nor the longing in her eyes as she gazed at her son before departing out the door.

I hear the car engine rumble to life outside, and I grab Charlie’s hand. “Let’s go wave goodbye to your mother, okay?” I encourage him, leading him to the front window. I peer through the glass in time to spot the red rear lights of the vehicle fading into the nighttime fog. The driveway is empty. His mother is gone.

Charlie gazes into the darkness and tugs on my hand. “How long will she be gone this time?”

I turn to look at him, and my eyebrows pinch in concern. “Your mother has done this before?”

Charlie doesn’t reply. He doesn’t look at me. He stares unsmiling into the gloomy night, his eyes somber—as if he had just heard a forbidden secret. His soft face holds more solemnity than any other child I have ever known.

Suddenly, it becomes evident to me that something very wrong is happening. The mother seemed conflicted when she left. Why did she go in such a rush? Who was in the car waiting for her? Where did she go? What did she plan to do? Charlie’s mother was extremely vague to me about when she would return. Sparse details. Incredible payment. The longer I reflect, the more suspicion I gain.

His mother is hiding something.

I squeeze Charlie’s hand, forgetting the money altogether. “How about I make you some cookies?” I offer. “Then you tell me everything you know about your mother.”

The child, Lex, was about eight years old. He was contentedly playing video games. Harmony stood at the window, staring out into the street, studying. “What are you looking for?” Lex asked, not looking up from his game. Harmony’s fifteen-year-old eyes moved from detail to detail, but at the same time held a quality that made it seem her mind was somewhere else entirely. “Something’s odd here,” Harmony answered. “What?” asked Lex. Harmony paused for a moment, then turned to study Lex. “Your parents offered me five thousand dollars to watch you for the weekend. Why?” Lex didn’t look up. He just shrugged. “What’s the meaning?” Harmony asked as she turned back to the window, the question not directed specifically at Lex. “Why are things this way?” All Harmony heard was the clicks of the video game remote and the sound effects coming from the screen. Her dark form stood still against the midday light coming through the window. It was an average day.

“Of course!” I said graciously to their offer. I normally wouldn’t babysit at 2 AM. But for this amount of money, I would do it anytime. I walk with them to their house as they thank me dubiously. I walked in to see their baby laying on the couch. They said that they had an urgent meeting they could not miss. So I sit and look at my phone. At the numerous calls I have gotten from him. How I have gotten tests from him. So instead, I play with the baby. I sit playing when I hear my phone ring. I hear the ring tone of his voice but he never calls, so I answer it.

“If someone asks you to babysit, don’t” he says. Oh no.

“Whenever she’s throwing a fit, just give her Mr. Snuffles,” Mrs. Huxley was leading Elle through her mansion that she called a house. If it was, it was an enormous house. “She eat’s at 6pm everyday, if you miss it she’s going to throw a fit, one you can’t solve with Mr. Snuffles, so don’t miss it. And Paisley likes her coffee more sugar than coffee.” “Can six year olds have coffee?” “Well she’s an overachiever. Now I’m sorry it’s so short notice, but Phil is on a business trip and I just can not miss my sister’s birthday.” “Oh I don’t mind, I need to pay rent somehow.” This would be her last odd job, for some reason they offered her close to $500,000, more than enough to pay off her student loans and pay rent for maybe the rest of her life.

After her long list of instructions, Mrs. Huxley left, leaving Elle and Paisley alone. They played games, watched TV, colored, all until it was time for bed, “What are we gonna do tomorrow, Elle?” “Anything you want. Good night Paisley.” Elle slowly and quietly closed the door behind her, and as long as she was quiet, she could do whatever she wanted.

She was definitely lost, all she did was go to the bathroom. She thought it was only a hall down, but it seemed like the whole house changed. She saw what seemed like hundreds of doors lining the corridor, but then she saw a different one, Elle could see a light shining from the bottom of the door. As she opened it she could see stuffed animals, pink bed sheets, blue paint that covered walls, it was Paisley’s room. Only she wasn’t in there. Elle looked around the room, under the bed, in her stuffed animals, behind her mirror, but she wasn’t there. That’s when she heard a soft cry from Paisley’s closet. Elle stepped near the closet, thinking Paisley just had a bad dream, but when she opened it she saw Paisley’s mom, Mrs. Huxley, lying on her back softly crying with a gapping hole in her mid-section, somehow she was still alive. Paisley was hunched over her mother, eating what Elle could only imagine was her stomach. In the corner of the closet was her father, dead. Blood was smeared across her face, dripping from her nose. “I just wanted a midnight snack.” Paisley said, with an innocent smile.