The Fall of Never(111)

“Becky,” she whispered over the railing of the crib. Her voice caused the infant to start. “Becky.” She repeated the name. It sounded make-believe to her. “Where did you come from?”

Of course, the child did not answer. But at the sound of her older sister’s voice, infant Becky managed to turn her tiny head and look in her immediate direction.

Curious, Kelly reached over the railing and touched the side of the baby’s face with her index finger. It was hot and soft. She kept the finger there for several moments, until the baby started to struggle against her. Only then did she retract her hand.

“Glenda’s mine,” she said. “You can’t take her away. I won’t let you. I don’t know where you came from, but I won’t let you. And I won’t teach you anything, do you understand? I’m not your big sister. I don’t want to be.”

The baby began to cry.



Over the passage of seasons, the forest became her home. Though the imaginary creation that she had named Simple Simon only presented himself when she was lonely or angry or both, she found solace in the welcoming green of the woods. She spent several days during the summers of her tenth and eleventh years wading in the cold waters of the brook and reading high school romance novels beneath the trees. And although Simple Simon only emerged (vocally, at least) when Kelly needed him, there was always an underlying presence she was aware of on a subconscious level…as if the imaginary boy had somehow become part of the forest itself, and he was always all around her.

In December of that year, she fell ill with the flu and was castigated by Glenda for leaving her bedroom window open throughout the night.

“I didn’t open it,” she said, tucked beneath layers of heavy quilts.

“Somebody did,” Glenda insisted. “Windows just don’t open by themselves.”

“Wasn’t me.”

“What if you get the baby sick? Wouldn’t you feel badly?”

“No,” she said truthfully. Then reiterated that she hadn’t opened the window.

Glenda waved a hand at her. “Oh hush, now. Anymore fibbing and I’ll tell your parents.”

Kelly shrugged. “Go ahead, they won’t care.”

Her mind floating in and out of fever, Kelly remained in bed for several days. At one point, in the middle of the night, she saw a blurred image on the other side of her bedroom window. It was white and vaporous, almost ghostlike. Contributing the hallucination to fever, she watched as the window slid open, the curtains billowed out, and a strong gust of wind assaulted the room. She could feel the freezing night air against her face. Her eyes fluttered.

When she awoke in the morning, the window was shut.

She called for Simple Simon on her first day back at the woods. He responded almost immediately.

“You came to my room,” she said, “and pulled my window open, didn’t you?”

—Where have you been? It’s lonely here. He was avoiding the question.

“I’ve been home sick because you let the window open.”

—Are you mad?

Half-grinning, she shook her head. “No,” she said. “I’m sorry you get lonely. I do too, sometimes. A lot.”

—I’m not lonely now.

“Me, neither,” she said. Crossing the clearing beside the now-frozen brook, she curled up on her throne—a pile of rocks covered with cushions from her mother’s patio furniture she’d constructed the previous summer. After some consideration, she said, “I almost saw you one night. When you came to my window. You were almost there.”

—I can feel it, Simple Simon said.

“I think I’m ready to see you now.”

—Can you do it? It’ll be more difficult than seeing that stone…

“Don’t make me nervous!” she joked. Closed her eyes. She thought: Simple Simon met a Pie Man going to the fair…

She thought of a boy—of a handsome, friendly, happy boy who liked to smile and play games and…and live in the woods. A perfect boy, just like in fairy tales. And yet she found it impossible to summon the image of an original boy; instead, her mind became cluttered with images of boys from television programs and magazines and books…from the few boys she recognized (and secretly admired) from town…

—That won’t do.

“I’m trying.”

Unsatisfied, she erased the images of those boys and started from scratch. Simplicity was the key—a nose, a mouth, two eyes, two ears. It was different with the stone; she hadn’t thought about it hardly at all. In fact, when it had appeared in her hand, she was almost as surprised as the ugly pug-faced girl who caught it in the shin. But now, this was something different, something much more difficult. She didn’t even know what to think about, what to focus her attention on…if it would even work…

She opened her eyes, exhausted, and realized that the sun had shifted position.

From the corner of her eye, and moments before it faded, she caught a reflection in the frozen brook water of a spindly male form standing at the bank. Like the impression of a waning shadow, it made itself visible only with the most rudimentary of details, and dispersed into nothingness moments after she saw it.

She felt a chill pass through her body. “Oh my God,” she whispered. “You’re…” She looked up in the direction of the wooded embankment beside the brook. “You’re standing right there…” She felt a giggle build up inside her. “Simple Simon the Pie Man.”