The Children on the Hill(64)

Vi was holding her ground, but then Iris gave her another hard shove, and Vi slammed her heel against a root and toppled to the ground, with Iris still clinging to her.

The fall knocked the wind out of her, and she felt a searing pain where she’d landed on something hard and sharp.

When she could take in a breath at last, she groaned in agony.

Iris had her wrists pinned. Eric was shining his light in Vi’s eyes, and when she looked up, Iris seemed to be glowing, to have a halo around her.

“You know what I am,” Iris said, her breath coming in hot bursts, chugging like a locomotive.

Vi kicked up with her legs and hips, ignoring the pain in her back and ribs. She flipped Iris and pinned her.

Put her own face right down in front of Iris’s, their lips nearly touching.

“You’re my sister,” Vi said.





THE BOOK OF MONSTERS


By Violet Hildreth and Iris Whose Last Name We Don’t Know Illustrations by Eric Hildreth 1978

Here’s why the world needs monsters: Because they are us and we are them.

Don’t we all have a little monster hiding inside us? A little darkness we don’t want people to see? The shadow self. The little voice that tells you to go ahead and eat that last cookie, or the whole plate of them, maybe.

And doesn’t it feel good when you lose it, really lose it and rip things up, punch a hole in the wall, smash a bunch of bottles to smithereens?

That’s your monster self coming out.

The world needs monsters.

And monsters need us.





Lizzy

August 20, 2019




I SHOVED THE BOOK of Monsters and the Lauren doll into my backpack. I circled the upper floor of the tower, gun in hand, listening to whoever was climbing the steps coming closer as I frantically searched for a way to escape, a secret door or a ladder. But there was nothing. No way out but the spiral metal staircase, up which someone was coming. I went to the edge and looked over—could I jump? No, too high. There was no way I’d survive it in one piece. And the face of the tower was too smooth to clamber down. I circled around again, desperate.

I thought of the mice running on wheels down in Gran’s basement laboratory, how sad and futile it had seemed, those poor animals running in endless circles, never getting anywhere.

Knowing I was trapped, I stopped walking in useless circles, crouched down with my back against the wall, gun pointed at the shadow coming up now through the opening in the floor.

I held my breath.

Would it be her?

My sister.

My monster.

My long-ago twin.

Or would it be Rattling Jane, a figure strung together from bits of trash and bone, the little pieces jangling together like wind chimes as she walked?

The bright beam of a flashlight hit me straight on.

“Lizzy?” called a vaguely familiar male voice.

Constable Pete got the light out of my face.

“Let me guess,” he said as he climbed the rest of the way up. “More monster hunting?”

I lowered my gun, felt the adrenaline surge begin to wane. My mouth tasted bright and coppery. I’d bitten my lip.

I nodded.

“You thought Rattling Jane might be up here?” Pete asked.

“I was walking around in the woods and saw the tower. Decided to check it out.”

“And I suppose you didn’t notice the No Trespassing sign?”

I shrugged.

“There’s a reason for it, you know? This tower is in terrible shape. It’s dangerous as hell. In fact, it’s kind of a wonder this floor is holding both of us right now.”

I said nothing. Pete had the beam of the light pointed down, but it was bright enough to light up the whole space. I could see the bowed and rotten floorboards, the crumbling cement walls around us.

“I assume you’ve got a permit for that thing?” Pete said, nodding at the gun I still held.

“Of course. Do you want to see it?”

He shook his head. “Not necessary.” He looked at me a minute, waiting, then said, “But I was kind of hoping you might put it away.”

“Oh yeah. Sorry.”

I took off my backpack and slipped the gun into its holster clipped inside the front pocket, careful not to open the main zippered pocket, where I’d tucked the book and the doll.

“Do you always carry a gun when you’re hunting ghosts and monsters?” he asked.

“Usually,” I said. My hands shook a little as I zipped the front pocket. I hoped he didn’t notice but was sure he had.

“Can you actually shoot a ghost?” he asked.

“It’s not the ghosts I’m worried about,” I told him, shouldering the pack.

He nodded, took a few steps closer. “What were you expecting?”

“I wasn’t expecting anything,” I said. “Like I said, I saw the tower and decided to check it out. I heard you coming up and I guess I just got spooked.”

“Spooked,” he repeated.

I gave a sheepish nod.

“I wouldn’t think you got spooked easily, considering your line of work.”

“I don’t usually,” I admitted.

He looked at me for what felt like a long time.

“What do you say we get out of here before the tower collapses under us and go talk someplace a little more safe? We can get a cup of coffee and some pie—my treat. There’s a diner just off the island that’s open till midnight.”