Introducing the author of Darkling, this week's guest, KM. Rice!
The Challenge:
In 3000 words or less, write a story about a girl
that has been forced to live with her odd aunt and uncle. What secrets
does she discover and how does she escape?
The Result:
Rainbow Worm
By K.M. Rice
Leila
had expected the time with her aunt and uncle to pass slowly while her parents
were away on a cruise. After all, Marietta was significantly older than Leila’s
mother, and as such, visiting the home she shared with her husband, Benjamin,
often felt like paying respects to grandparents. What Leila hadn’t expected,
however, was that the doilies on the backs of the armchairs and
cantaloupe-smelling kitchen hid a deep, dark secret.
“Pass
the salt, please, Benjamin,” Marietta said at the breakfast table one fine
summer morning in mid-July. Leila chewed her scrambled eggs cautiously, having
learned from experience that her uncle’s shaking hands often left behind pieces
of the shell.
As
if his wife’s request had just reminded him of the presence of the seasoning,
Benjamin grunted as he grabbed the shaker and attempted to salt his eggs. Yet,
true to form, his hand shook so much that Leila wondered if his breakfast was
even palatable by the time he was done.
Marietta
glared and swiped the shaker from him, her penciled-in eyebrows furrowing.
Leila pretended she hadn’t seen at thing. At fifteen, she was usually good at
negotiating other people’s moods, but her aunt and uncle’s constant bickering
made her feel awkward, as if they’d forgotten she was in the room.
“This
is great,” she offered with a small smile. “Much better than FrootLoops.”
“It’s
too salty,” Benjamin griped.
Marietta
sneered at him before giving the salt a good shake, sending it spraying into
his face. Benjamin gasped and leaned back in his chair so far that it fell
over, causing both his wife and niece to bark in surprise. Being the most agile
of the three, Leila scrambled to her feet first and hastily knelt to help her
uncle back up, the floorboards squeaking below her.
“Are
you all right?” she asked.
“That
witch,” Benjamin hissed as Leila took his hand. Marietta merely continued to
eat her breakfast as if she hadn’t just caused her husband to narrowly miss a
concussion. “She knows I hate it when she does that.”
“You
mean it happens often?” Leila asked as she hauled her uncle up by the forearm,
the tip of her sneaker pressing down against a weak board.
“He
deserved it,” Marietta mumbled. “It’s his fault that we’re in this mess to
begin with.”
“What
mess?” Leila straightened her uncle’s chair and felt the toe of her shoe sink
again. Testing the board with more weight, she realized that it wasn’t just
weak, but loose. Like the kinds of loose floorboards that hid sacks of gold in
castles and magical medallions in palaces.
“Something
wrong with your foot, dear?” Marietta asked.
Leila
met her eye and found her aunt fixing her with a peculiar gaze. It was enough
to make the girl slide her foot off the board. “My shoelace got stuck,” she
lied before she could even figure out why she had the compulsion to do so.
“Now
look what you’ve done,” Benjamin whined. “My eggs are covered in salt!”
“That’s
not from me, that’s from – oh, never mind, you dunderhead!”
Leila
was hesitant to resume her seat between the two of them who were locked in a
silent staring contest. With her uncle’s bulbous eyes and her aunt’s upturned
nose, it was quite the sight to see. In fact, looking at her now, Leila saw
very little family resemblance between her mother and the woman at her side.
Marietta’s hair was fiery red (albeit dyed) and her features were sharp and
delicate. She was an odd sight when paired with Benjamin, who from most angles
looked like he was melting.
Once
the dishes were cleared and her aunt and uncle had left the kitchen, Leila eyed
the floor. What could the two be hiding under there? Marietta had wanted to
divert her attention, surely, so it must be something. Kneeling beside the
loose board, Leila attempted to catch the end with her fingernails to pull it
loose, but it only gave so much. She would have to get a crowbar or something
else to use as leverage. If only she had… wait. What was that splash of color?
Barely
visible on the side of the board was what appeared to be hand-painted writing.
Vibrant letters in all shades of the rainbow peeked out at her from the dull
oak. If she could pull it up farther, she could read what they said.
“Leila!”
Startled,
Leila shoved the board back into place then hurried into the living room to
answer her uncle’s shout. “Yes?”
“We’re
heading down to the senior center for our water colors class. Grab your permit
and you can drive.”
Leila’s
face split into a grin. Forgetting the board, she dashed upstairs and headed
back down with her wallet and learner’s permit.
The
senior center was only five blocks away, but Leila felt very adult as she
parked and turned off the engine. A senior citizen’s watercolors class wasn’t
exactly her idea of an afternoon well-spent, but she didn’t have any friends
who lived near her aunt and uncle, anyway.
Once
in class, Marietta and Benjamin decided they liked each other again and began
teasing and elbowing each other as they painted. Leila couldn’t decide what to
paint, so she watched her aunt’s hands bring to life the colorful curves of
flowers. At first she thought Benjamin had picked the same subject, but
instead, his alleged flowers took on squiggly legs and antennae. Bugs.
Biting
her lip, Leila turned her paper this way and that until she decided what to
paint. Drawing upon her memory of what she had seen, she dipped her brush first
in the red, then in the blue, pink, and yellow as she mimicked the writing she
had glimpsed on the side of the floorboard.
“All
right, class,” the instructor cheerily addressed the audience after their hour
and a half was up. “Time to finish. Why don’t you share your paintings with
each other?”
Leila
glanced around the room. Half of the participants ignored the instructor and
continued to paint, while several more were asleep and the remaining few looked
as if they were shocked to suddenly discover their whereabouts.
“Roses,
what a surprise,” Benjamin chuckled as he looked over his wife’s watercolor.
“About
as original as yours,” Marietta quipped with a wink. “How about you, squirt?”
she asked Leila.
Leila
slowly held up her painting.
Benjamin
narrowed his bulbous eyes. “Are those worms?”
“They’re
letters,” Leila corrected. She kept her eyes on her aunt’s face, gauging her
reaction.
The
red-headed woman merely adjusted her glasses and peered at the painting before
arching a brow. “Letters, huh? Don’t look like any letters I’ve ever seen.”
“They’re
only half finished,” Leila pressed.
Marietta
sniffed and looked away, admiring her own art instead. Leila peered at her work
as a chorus of oohs and ahhs rose around her as several of the
other participants shared their paintings with each other.
On
the drive home, Leila’s aunt and uncle were so busy arguing over how to best
get back to the house that neither noticed Leila’s near-silence. Maybe she had
been wrong. Maybe the board she had found was just recycled from a painted
structure. After all, Marietta hadn’t even reacted to her watercolor.
The
three ate at a local diner that night, and when they returned to the house,
Leila realized that she’d left her artwork in the car. Benjamin spotted her coming
down the stairs. “Looking for a midnight snack?”
“I’ll
be right back!” Leila chirped as she headed outside and to the driveway.
Opening the car, she spotted two drawings instead of three. Furrowing her brow,
she snatched them up to find Marietta’s flowers and Benjamin’s bugs. After
looking under the seats and by the console, she gave up and headed back inside.
“Loose
something?” Marietta asked.
“My
painting,” Leila said, handing the two surviving pieces over to her aunt. “It’s
gone.”
“Hmm,”
Marietta said without a hint of surprise. “Must’ve blown out the window.” The
older woman shuffled the paintings and carried them out of room. Leila knew
when she was being dismissed, and was filled with a mixture of excitement and
anxiety over having, apparently, struck a nerve.
So,
her aunt had gotten rid of her painting, had she? Two could play this game.
Leila
decided to wait until the couple went to bed before she would try to once again
discover what was under the floorboards. The problem was, they both had a habit
of falling asleep in front of the TV until the wee hours of the morning when
one or the other’s snoring would inevitably awake them and they’d shuffle off
to their room. As the TV blared downstairs, Leila laid awake in bed. By
midnight, she was convinced that her aunt was actually a witch and the writing
on the board was a protective spell. Breaking such a magical seal could cause
her to become cursed, but Leila was willing to risk it.
In
an attempt to hurry along her aunt and uncle’s bedtime process, she first got
up and listened for a lull in the conversation on the crime drama then flushed
the toilet, hoping the noise would stir one of the two. Nothing happened. Pursing
her lips, Leila tried again, this time faking a stumble down the stairs,
stomping the whole way. Benjamin twitched but that was it.
Realizing
that the TV was making enough noise to mask any sounds that she would create in
the kitchen, Leila gave up on trying to shoo the couple to bed and instead
grabbed a hammer and headed for the floorboard. Wedging the end of the hammer
claw into gap between the loose board and the others, she hesitated.
This could be
it, she
thought. My last breath as a human. For
all I know, I’m about to be turned into a toad.
Toads
weren’t so bad. In fact, she’d always thought they were kinda cute. And so, she
gripped the handle of the hammer and yanked.
The
board squeaked and gave a little, once again revealing part of the colorful
writing. Waiting and listening to make sure she hadn’t disturbed her aunt and
uncle, she yanked again, prying loose even more of the board. She could now
clearly see the writing and furrowed her brow as she read. Sharp be spine and wet be slime, it read.
Repositioning
the hammer, Leila gave another yank and pried the board free. Wincing at the
squeak, she trained her ears on the other room for movement, but there was
none. Rotating the board in her hands, she read the continuation of the
writing.
With this ball,
you are mine until whensoever you wish to end your time.
“I
guess that rhymes,” she muttered, her knuckles white against the wood. A ball?
Could it be a golden ball like in the fairy tale about the princess and the
frog? Or possibly a ball of golden yarn like in the story of Rumplestiltskin?
Gently
setting the enchanted board aside, Leila peered into the hole… and saw nothing.
Deciding that it must be too dark, she tugged a lamp off of the mail table and
set it on the floor beside her before switching it on. In the rush of light,
she was able to see the dirt beneath the house, and nestled amongst it, a brown
ball!
Grinning,
Leila snatched it up, surprised by how light it was and the amount of dirt and
plant matter that had stuck to it, as if it had been beneath the house for a
very long time. Picking the debris off, she frowned as it began to crumble in
her hand. Just then, the lights switched on. With a gasp, she looked over her
shoulder, the crumbled ball in her hands, to spot her aunt and uncle glaring at
her from the doorway.
“I
can explain,” Leila sputtered. “I heard a rat and –”
“I
said we should’ve just told her,” Benjamin griped. “Said it from the start, I
did.”
“Hush,
you dunderhead,” Marietta snipped.
“Told
me what?” Leila asked.
“Do
you have any idea what you’re holding?” Marietta asked. Leila looked down at
the flaking plant matter in her hands and shook her head. “That’s a ball of
horse poo.”
“What?”
Leila hissed, flinging the substance from her. “Why the heck would you have
horse poo buried under a floorboard?”
Sighing,
Benjamin shuffled into the room. “Take a seat. I’ll make us some tea.”
“And
wash your hands,” Marietta added.
Baffled,
Leila did as she was told. Ten minutes later, the three of them sat at the
kitchen table with steaming mugs before them. No one spoke.
“Sooo…”
Leila ventured.
“You
ever hear of the Salem Witch Trials? Or seen Wizard of Oz or Hocus Pocus?”
Marietta asked.
Leila
nodded, her eyes growing wide. “So you are
a witch.”
“Oh,
hell no,” Benjamin said with a chuckle. “One of those brazen bitches did this
to us.”
Leila
leaned back in her chair a little, both from what her uncle had just said and
from the fact that he swore.
“Back
in 89, I was young and lonely,” Marietta began. “Until your uncle came along. I
had thick skin, you know. He was the first person I ever really felt.”
Benjamin
gazed at his wife lovingly and rested his hand on hers. “And you were so
beautiful, with those red flowers on your head.”
Leila
tensed. If her uncle felt loose enough to swear, who knew what else would come
out of his mouth next and their story was growing personal.
“You
loved those flowers, so much.”
“They
were delicious.”
Leila
furrowed her brow and looked between them. “Wait, you ate them? Never mind, I don’t wanna know.”
“Sweetheart,
I was different back then,” Benjamin explained. “Oh so very different.”
“How
were you—”
“He
was a slug,” Marietta stated. “And I was a cactus. We were so in love that when
a witch happened by and asked if we’d like to be of the same species, he
agreed. We just didn’t know that we’d be stuck as, well, you know, hot dogs
with legs.”
There
was so much wrong with what had just come out of her aunt’s mouth that Leila
didn’t know where to begin, and all that came out was “Hot dog with legs?”
“Humans,”
Benjamin clarified. “We’d thought she’d make us both cacti, or slugs.”
“But….”
Leila dug her hands into her hair. “What do you mean a witch just ‘happened
along’?”
“Happening
along is what they’re good at,” Benjamin said. “Keep your eyes peeled for one
happening along by you one day.”
“That
ball of horse poo was chosen because it is symbolic of the strength of our
love: it feeds both the plant and the terrestrial gastropod mollusk.”
Leila
arched a brow. “An alien?”
“Slug,
dear. That means slug.”
“It’s
why she punishes me with salt,” Benjamin explained. It doesn’t hurt me anymore,
but it’s a fear that’s hard to ever really shake…”
“And
your red hair…” Leila whispered, going unintentionally cross-eyed until she
shook herself out of it. “Why don’t you like being humans?”
“It’s
exhausting,” Benjamin groaned. “So much talking and walking and doing.”
“Not
enough being still and just, well, letting yourself and everything around you be,” Marietta added.
Leila
pursed her lips and nodded thoughtfully. “Does my mom know?”
“You
really think she’d believe us if we told her?”
“Then
where does she think you came from?”
Marietta
sighed. “An orphanage.”
Leila
looked down at her mug. “And the horse poop?”
Her
aunt and uncle exchanged a nervous glance. Leila furrowed her brow.
“You
probably shouldn’t have touched that,” Marietta offered. “It was supposed to
turn us back when we were desperately done as people, but –”
There
was a loud poof and a puff of purple smoke. In the chair where Leila had sat
was now a rainbow-colored worm.
The
two senior citizens leaned over the table to peer at their niece’s new shape.
“Ah,
the hell with it!” Benjamin declared before snatching up what was left of the
horse poo and popping it into his mouth. Marietta did the same. Two poofs of
purple smoke later, and a worm and slug were crawling on a cactus, and Leila
and her aunt and uncle were never seen again.
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