Elegy for a Miracle

[Dr. Love]

Alex J. Heston:

I’d driven up towards the house. They were still there, waiting for me; not wanting to leave until I had arrived. I was forced to park right behind their car since they hadn’t left yet. I got out of my car while Kathleen stood at the passenger’s side of her vehicle, smiling at me. Her husband Jonathan was bent down besides her, talking to their 4-year old daughter. The girl shouted my name, while her father stood up to address me directly. I apologized for being a bit late, but Kathleen told me not to worry about it. She never really got angry at me. Never. Even if I forgot to show up. Jonathan informed me that, since it was cloudy that afternoon, the girl could spend some time playing outside without worrying about getting sunburned. Both Kathleen and Jonathan said a few parting words to the girl, then they got in their car and left.

Do you know the name of their daughter?

No, I don’t. Not anymore at least. I might have known it once, but I was never very good at remembering names. I only knew Kathleen and Jonathan’s names because I’d known them for a long time.

So, the girl’s parents leave. What do you do next?

I took the girl’s hand and led her into the house. Once we got in I let go of her and she ran off to do whatever it is 4-year olds do in their spare time.

At what time was this?

Around 6:30, give or take a few minutes. It was already starting to get dark, dark enough to let the girl play in the backyard.

Why would the sun be an issue?

She had skin that was very sensitive to ultraviolet rays. She was just born that way. She tried to get me to play outside with her but I didn’t really feel like it. Not that day.

Why not?

I’m not completely sure. I’d made up my mind to go babysit that day, do what I had to do, and then go back home without any problems. But I just didn’t feel very well that day. I couldn’t even eat. I just sat in the living room reading To Kill A Mockingbird while the girl played with a rubber ball outside.

When did she come back into the house?

I don't know; I fell asleep while reading. I imagine she came in at some point, but I can’t tell you exactly when. I just know that, at about 7:45, she woke me up by tugging at my sleeve. I asked her what was wrong, and she told me that she had to go use the toilet.

So, what exactly did you have to help with in that situation?

It wasn’t too complicated. I just had to place her on the toilet and then step out; she could handle the rest, somewhat. Sometimes she slipped in or left a pile of toilet paper on the floor, but not that day. Her parents even had a small set of steps near the sink so she could wash her hands.

She used the bathroom, then what?

It was 8:00 and I had to be leaving soon, before her parents got back home, so I called someone and told them to come to the house

Wait a minute; did you already have it in your pocket?

I’d had it in my pocket since I’d gotten out of my car, but I had been checking to see if it was still there the whole time. Everything would’ve been for nothing if I didn’t have it.

And you never removed it from your coat pocket?

No. Not until I actually used it.

So, after you called for a replacement, what did you do?

I decided to take her to bed before my replacement showed up. She slept in the same room and bed as her parents. It was a large bed with three pillows; the small pillow in the center was where the girl slept. The room was very dim, even with the lights on; I suppose that was to accommodate for the girl’s light sensitive eyes. She ran to the right side of the bed and waited for me.

And that’s when you did it?

Yes. I walked up to her and bent down, as if I was about to pick her up. She was expecting me to, I think, because she placed her hands on my shoulders like she was going to hold on to me, and had a big smile across her face. That’s when I finally took the gun out of my pocket. When I placed the muzzle beneath her chin, she stopped smiling and widened her eyes. She stared at me and tilted her head slightly, in a sort of confused look. She clearly didn’t understand what was about to happen. And that’s when I pulled the trigger. I didn’t flinch, I didn’t even blink; her blood simply splattered on my face while her small body made a soft thud as it hit the floor. I dropped my gun on the floor as well since it was also covered in blood.

What’d you do then; leave?

No, actually. After I wiped the blood off of my face, I helped myself to some food. I was finally able to eat, and so I did. It was only shortly after I’d finished eating that my replacement came knocking on the door. When I answered it, I simply told him “goodnight”, got in my car and left. I had done what I came to do, and I drove home without any problems.

Well then, I guess we’re done here

I guess we are.

[Dr. Love]

Mesmer H. Humbert:

I suppose this sordid business cannot be summed up with the ramblings of just one lunatic; it requires yet another mad man, who happens to be intimately involved with this tragedy, to give further details. It should be mentioned, however, that I was forced into this position by an accusation that is wholly unrelated to this incident, just to be clear. So, my inquisitor, what is it that you would like to know exactly?

You could start with how exactly you got into this mess, and the circumstances behind it.

If by “circumstances” you mean the terms of operation that allowed this incident to happen, then I would be very glad to tell you. You see the parents, Kathleen and Jonathan, were a very busy pair having to juggle the responsibilities of a job and college at the same time. They’d married straight out of high school, please understand, and therefore were not even sufficiently equipped to find a proper occupation, let alone gather the funds necessary to attend college. I must point out that these were the early years before they had the child; I was still in high school at the time. By the time they finally succeeded in bringing forth progeny, I was a listless 22 year old college student wanting nothing more than to earn a wage of some sort, and was therefore chosen as a babysitter. One of three.

One of three? Why would they need three?

Please, my dear inquisitor, understand that I alone could not have possibly watched that child every day of the week, classes being as they were and whatnot. It made perfect sense to hire 2 others as a failsafe. Mr. Alex J. Heston, the murderous scoundrel, was one of them, being the same age as the parents, which was 28; he seemed a calm and rational minded man, and kept to himself mostly. The third caretaker was a young girl, 16 and still in high school named Hilda Kampfringen. She had proved her competence and was therefore trusted to take care of their dearly beloved child; she was the only one of us not to be suspected of this heinous crime.

Mind if I ask why this child was so “dearly beloved”?

My dear inquisitor, have you no shame!? Are you so ignorant of this situation that one of its most central crimes is completely unknown to you? For shame!

Hey! I know what happened, alright? The kid was killed by Alex Heston for reasons still unknown. That much I know.

The miracle that you so callously call “kid” has a name, you brute. It is a name that is at once both appropriate and beautiful, and was by no means given without meaning. Her name was Pearl, Pearl Albus.

Pearl? You mean like the gemstone?

She was far more precious than any gemstone, and infinitely more unique. How do I count the ways?

You’re getting really weird right now. Why was Pearl so dang important anyway?

You truly are ignorant, my dear inquisitor, if you must ask that question. It seems that you’ll require a full dissertation of the tragedy that has now played out in order to understand my point of view. Behold this tangle of thorns.

Alright. Make it quick.

Being pertinent to this case I shall take as long as I find it necessary, inquisitor. Now, imagine if you will a young Kathleen and Jonathan Albus, 19, freshly married, and only a few months after graduation. They were forced to live with Jonathan’s single mother for the first four years of their marriage in what can only be described as a humiliating act of destitution. However, as cumbersome as their situation was, they were already considering having a child. By the time they moved out they’d been trying to have a child for two years, without any success. They visited many experts who offered many causes and many solutions, one expert being my own father, but alas their efforts were in vain. This is not to say that they stopped in their attempts at parenthood, oh no, far from it; for four more years they tried, frantically I might add. It was during this period that I became acquainted with them, as my father was the primary expert they consulted with on matters of fertility.

When did they finally conceive?

I cannot tell you when exactly it happened, but I have reason enough to believe that it was sometime in late March. They visited my father in early April and he declared that Kathleen was indeed pregnant, much to her astonishment. Years of waiting and prayer had finally come to a fruitful result. The child was born on Christmas day of 1985; a small albino baby, and so she was named Pearl. A pearl, you see, is an exceedingly rare gemstone that only naturally occurs after years of patience, and out of the initial pain of the mollusk that forms it. It’s white, immaculate appearance betrays the immense anguish required in its formation. That is why it is so appropriate of a name. Every person is a unique creation, and this child was the truest testament to that fact. The poor darling’s condition of albinism meant that she was sensitive to the sun’s rays, and the absence of melanin in her eyes made bright lights unbearable to her. Her existence was still something to be cherished.

So, with all of this, when you arrived at their house that evening what happened?

After Alex rudely shoved me out of the way and drove into the distance, I entered the house with the impression that he had put Pearl to sleep. As a result I paid no mind to the foul smell of iron that flowed through the house; I thought it was just my imagination. When Kathleen and Jonathan returned, about 30 minutes later, the first thing that Kathleen did while Jonathan was relaxing in the living room was check on Pearl who was supposed to be sleeping in their bedroom. I was there in close proximity to her when she opened the door and beheld this scene of death. It’s amazing the range of facial contortions one can make in the span of a few seconds. She opened the door smiling, and having comprehended what happened she soon started to react in a suitable manner. She had only a second of quiet tears before she unleashed her full sorrow. She screamed as loud as she could while tears ran down her distorted face, then she bent over with her face pressed against her hands. Her undignified blubbering brought Jonathan’s attention and although he didn’t react quite as strongly, it was painfully obvious that he too was in great pain. I was certainly shocked.

What happened after that?

Well, many things happened after that, none of them pleasant. Firstly I was violently assaulted by Jonathan when he got it into his head that I had killed Pearl. Secondly, and more heinously, I was accused of killing Pearl in order to cover up any sexual acts I had committed with her. This accusation was levied by, of all things, a devilish little girl who I had the displeasure of knowing as my neighbor. She had revealed, to my embarrassment, an incident in which I, in a moment of weakness, enjoyed her at a wedding. This girl, who I call “Twin Tails”, was the reason why I was still in hot water, even after it was found that Alex had committed the murder.

You “enjoyed” her? What does that mean?

Never mind as to what it means, inquisitor!! The point is that I was tricked by a nasty little girl into something that I had no part in! Let us not forget that the true crime here is the diabolical murder of an innocent child by a cold and heartless killer! I would never commit such an abominable sin; it’s a crime against nature and against all humanity to cut down such an innocent youth in cold blood! Even one such as myself could not fathom such brutality!!

Ok, I think we’re done here

No!! We are most certainly not done!!! Listen here, you: whatever act I may have done is nothing compared to the true crime in this situation! I will not rest until true justice has been accomplished!

Security!

I will not be silenced!!

[108 fountains]

I found this story fascinating. Weird, dark and disturbing, but fascinating. After reading it, I went back and looked at some of your earlier posts. Most (at least the ones I looked at) had similar themes and subjects – very, very dark subject matter focused on violence, sex and perversion. This will probably turn off a lot of readers, but whether or not one enjoys stories that delve so deeply into dark material, I would have to say that the quality of writing is really very good and that you have a unique style.

You raise many questions and leave them unanswered, which I am sure you do on purpose – it adds to the unbalanced quality of the narrative. For example, in this story, we don’t know who is doing the questioning (although I can presume it is a staff member of some sort of mental health facility), and we know only a very minimal background of the two babysitters. We don’t know how the second baby-sitter, Mesmer H. Humbert, knows so much of the history of the family; we can assume he is either a relation or a very close friend, but we don’t know for sure. (You also mention that the first baby-sitter, Alex J. Heston, has known the family for a long time, but doesn’t know or can’t remember the girl’s name, which is strange.)

You also introduce odd elements into the narrative – such as the girl’s skin being so sensitive to light that she can only play outside at night – that has no direct bearing on the plot, but nevertheless adds to the macabre mood of the piece.

The way you structured the piece as two separate interviews, with the interviewees’ first name, middle initial, and last name as chapter titles, is also unusual. And of course, the ending was as bizarre as it was disturbing.
It’s clear that the intention of the story was to produce disquiet in the reader, and it was successful in that regard. It might upset some readers and disgust others, but it was written in a way at least that captured my attention.