Demon in High Socks

Photo by Tom Roy Hobbs from Field Of Dreams

The Caterpillar inched its way along the leaf, assuming the dark shadow above was that of a passing cloud. The dome dropped, the air stilled, and everything turned upside down. He fell through space and landed on cold glass. An avalanche of leaves covered his stunned body. A closing lid would have sealed his fate. He’d have remained the prisoner of one Thad Demeere—the boy with the jar—had not one Maggie Sullivan—a girl with an apple—intervened.

With rapt attention and completely unaware, Thad peered at the hapless caterpillar who was just coming around. Maggie wound up and let loose. She hit her mark. Coming from above the apple gained far more force than her childish arms could have mustered otherwise. It hit Thad just above the forehead, broke in two, and landed at his feet. An instant later, Thad joined the apple on the ground. The jar shattered on a rock and the caterpillar took to flight, practice for the day he’d indeed become a butterfly. He landed on the soft earth and inched away with all he was worth.

To the ringing of evil chatter, Thad regained his senses. Maggie looked down from the tree, a demented little monkey, giggling. When Thad realized someone had purposely hit him with the apple and that someone was now laughing at his pain—and when revenge didn’t seem possible—he did what any six-year-old would do. He burst into tears and ran home to tell mama.

Mrs. Demeere took him by the hand to Maggie’s doorstep and garnered from Maggie’s mother the appropriate apology. Maggie was called upon to deliver a second.

“Margaret …” Mrs. Sullivan asked. “Did you throw an apple at this boy?” Sure as horse manure smells on a hot day she knew Maggie had.

Maggie knew how it would go. It wasn’t the first time she’d bullied a neighbour child but still she attempted a lie. “I was throwing apples but only to see how far they’d go. I didn’t mean to hit him.”

“Don’t fib,” Mrs. Sullivan warned and then to Mrs. Demeere added, “She gets like this sometimes.” She turned back to Maggie. “Apologize.”

Maggie said nothing.

“Now,” Mrs. Sullivan insisted.

Maggie’s lower lip jutted out from her little jaw and she crossed her arms over her chest. Ms. Sullivan’s voice approached the sharp tones of a crow.

“Margaret Mona!”

Mona her middle name. There wasn’t much farther Maggie could push but she’d not pull back. Margaret Mona Sullivan did not give in to defeat. She looked at Thad with a level of hatred usually reserved for turnips and then back at her mother.

“It’s not my fault his head got in the way.”

Mrs. Sullivan unlocked Maggie’s crossed arms and dragged her into the house. From just outside the open door, Thad and Mrs. Demeere listened to the sound of a hand hitting bare skin, perhaps half a dozen times. The slaps were loud. Mrs. Sullivan wasn’t holding back. Maggie never let out a sound. They reappeared on the doorstep, Mrs. Sullivan breathing heaving from the exertion.

“Maggie has something to say to you, Thad.”

Maggie was a rebellious child and her mother was often driven to spank her. It was the sixties and that’s how parenting was done. Maggie wasn’t really hurt, and to her mind, a spanking seemed a fair price to do whatever she pleased. But the embarrassment of having that detestable wimpy boy and his overbearing mother witness … well, hear ... that was too much. She was momentarily weakened.

“Fine, I’m sorry.”

“And?”

Mrs. Sullivan was going for a full surrender.

“I won’t do it again,” Maggie added.

“Good. Now that that’s finished I have an idea.” Revelling in her victory Mrs. Sullivan wasn’t done. Not only must an apology be offered but penance performed. “You’ll show Thad you can play like a civilized child, not just a demon in high socks. You’ll let him ride your new bike?”

Part2

Part 3

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Demon in High Socks was originally published in Monsters. Click on the photo below for more information.