In its Proper Place

The room Lucy slept in had many things, each in its proper place. Slim white posts rose from each corner of her bed, centered against the back wall. At the foot of her bed was a tea table suitable for hosting dolls and children. Set atop the table were a pair of white porcelain saucers and cups, a matching teapot placed in the center. Two chairs of pastel green with golden trim were pushed in on either end.  Across from the tea table hung a great oval mirror, and beside it a family photo framed in brown oak. In the photo Lucy’s mother and father stood next to her, each with a stilted hand on Lucy’s shoulder closest to them. Her mother wore a white summer dress, her blonde hair running straight down past her shoulders. Her father had on the same dark, grey suit he wore every day, the knot on his tie threatening to sink below his collar. A single strand of black hair lay across his forehead. They stared across the room with forced smiles at a rotund, stuffed rabbit sitting on a chair beside the bed, its brown mass standing watch as it had many nights before. 

The room was disturbed. Two tiny arms popped out from the covers followed by Lucy’s golden curls. She sat up, yawned, and turned to the rabbit.

“Good morning, Char-lee.”

Charlie turned his head. “Good morning Lucy, how did you sleep?”

“Oh just awfully. I was so worried about you. How was the night watch?”

Before Charlie could respond, Lucy’s mother came in carrying a silver tray, a cacophony of roaring lions and trumpeting angels etched into its legs and base. They announced the arrival of the standard fare: buttered toast, orange juice, a banana, and a tiny paper cup with three colorful pills. 

“Good morning Lucy.” She turned her attention to the rabbit. “Good morning Charles.” Charlie stared ahead vacantly. Her mother looked back at Lucy. “How are you this Sunday? How did you sleep?”

“Fine,” said Lucy.

Lucy had learned the value of “fine” the past few months. Every morning her mother would ask how she was, slept, felt, liked her food, and other how-preceding questions. Like streams going downhill, they all led to the Great River of Fine. “Good” or “grand” invited a winding brook of uneasy, hopeful follow ups. “Bad” or “awful” sent Lucy and her mother down the rapids. “Fine” was the most efficient tributary, leading directly to the safe, calm River. 

Her mother was not the only teacher of fine. There was also the bald doctor who visited every Sunday at noon. He would sit on the chair beside her bed, banishing Charlie to the closet, and ask his clinical hows. When she first met him her answers were truthful, and he seemed to take them calmly. But invariably after the doctor left, Lucy’s mother would be a frightful mess. So “fine” it was. 

Lucy’s mother placed the tray over her daughter’s legs and stood in front of the family portrait. Dutifully, Lucy ate her breakfast, leaving the last gulp of orange juice and the pills for the end. Her mother watched silently, like a zookeeper watching their ward. Down went the pills with the juice, and out went her mother with the tray.

“Charlie, what happened last night?” 

Charlie’s ears perked up and he bounced out of his chair.

“The same as every night! The devils climb in and I clobber ‘em back.” He paused. “I don’t think this tale can be told without tea. This will not do. Can you pour us some, dear Lucy?” She slid down the side of her bed and shuffled to the table. Hot tea poured out of the teapot, and the room filled with the smell of lavender. 

“Why thank you, Lucy,” Charlie said, accepting the tea cup after a deep bow. “Now where was I? Oh yes! For the first few hours all was quiet.” His voice lowered. “But then...the very gates of hell opened before me!” Charlie raised his cup in the air with a dramatic flair, some tea splashing over the side. “I swear, these demons would nip the devil’s heels if they could, but I was able to fight ‘em off, by God I did with these legs of mine,” he said as he slapped one with his free paw. 

“What did they look like, Charlie?” asked Lucy.

“Eyes this big!” He circled the air. “Tentacles as long as a great squid!” He stretched out his arms. “And teeth as sharp as knives!” He hit the tea table, jingling all the porcelain. 

Lucy covered her face and began to cry. “How horrible!” 

Charlie paused for a moment to let Lucy finish. “Well Lucy, there is something else.” 

“What is it, Charlie?” she asked, wiping the tears from her face with the back of her hand.

“I was able to wound one of them. Savage beast. Hit it right across the noggin with the flat of my foot. When it came to, I put the fear of God into this hell spawn. After he was right scared, I asked him, ‘Who is your master?’ and all I could get out of the fiend was ‘The hill at the edge of town.’ He seemed a might more afraid of whatever is on that hill than he was of me.”

Lucy heard two sets of feet coming up the stairs, one a loud stomp, the other a dainty click. Her door opened and in came the bald doctor with her mother. Lucy stiffened as if she had been caught sifting through her mother’s purse. 

“How are you feeling today, Lucy?” asked the doctor.

“Fine,” said Lucy. 

“Don’t forget your manners Lucy,” her mother chirped. 

“Fine...sir.”

The man peppered her with more questions, about how the pills were making her feel, her dreams, and her desires to go outside. They played this question game weekly, Lucy trying to answer the doctor’s questions vaguely, the doctor trying to divine deeper meaning from generalities and evasions. The end of the game was signaled by the question he meant to ask: “How is Charles?” 

When Lucy had first met the doctor, she had answered truthfully - in both body and voice. Her golden curls bounced with excitement as she relayed the tales Charlie told her over tea. Each night her room was beset on all sides by creatures which varied in size and shade, but uniform in malicious intent. Lucy had waved her hands wildly, trying to give an honest account of Charlie’s eye witness report. Her voice had risen in strain and volume with each detail that came to her mind. The doctor had nodded, and nodded, and nodded again, greedily writing notes in sterile script. Periodically an “I see” rolled out of his mouth, like a machine pretending to have a conversation. Out of breath and distraught, Lucy finished. The doctor thanked Lucy and rose, beckoning Lucy’s mother to leave the room with him. As soon as her mother had closed the door, Lucy rushed over and put her ear against it .

“A deep state of psychosis,” she had heard the doctor say over the cries of her mother. 

“I...don’t...know...what to do.” her mother had sobbed, sounding like a clogged drain. “Ever since it happened, she’s been like this. Always talking to that..that..rabbit!” 

“Now, now, no need to be hysterical. Medical science has made great strides.” Lucy had heard scribbling. “Have her take these every day. I’ll be back on Sundays to check on her progress -- that rabbit’s days are numbered.” 

Lucy remembered climbing back into bed and holding Charlie for a long time.

“He’s as fine as I am...sir.”

“No more monsters?” he asked.

“No, sir.”

He turned to Lucy’s mother. “See! The medical science of today is the magic of yesterday. We’ve subdued the monsters, or at least most of them.” The doctor looked at Charlie.

They both left the room, and Lucy felt as if they took all the energy away with them. She sat in silence, staring at the daisy patterns on her bed covers.

“Dreadful creature, that man. Not a lick better than the ghouls I deal with every night,” said Charlie. 

Lucy kept staring at her covers. Low and quiet she asked, “You’re not going to leave me, right, Charlie?”

Charlie hopped up on the bed, erect and strong, his long ears draping over the top of his head like two great plumes on an Napoleonic helmet. “Don’t you worry, my dear Lucy. Neither the trickery of man nor the jaws of beasts will keep me from your side.” Charlie’s words brought warmth back to the room.“Listen here, Lucy, if that dolt of a doctor can’t seem to get rid of these monsters, maybe we can.” 

“What do you mean?”

“We now know where our foul foe comes from. Let’s go face it down.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that, Charlie.”

“I’ll be with you the whole time. We have to stop this before my legs get too old to kick.”

“If you say so,” Lucy said, unconvinced.

The day passed like any other, quiet and boring. When the grandfather clock downstairs sounded its eight gongs, her mother’s door let out its punctual click, and the sun’s rays sucked themselves from the bedroom, they knew it was time. Charlie opened the window and signaled for Lucy to come over. She looked down at the lawn below and turned to Charlie with a face of panic. 

“This ain’t nothing,” he said. He climbed up onto the frame and stuck his arms out like a swimmer attempting a dive. With the poise and grace of his kind he bounded to the lawn below, and the grass caught the noise of his landing.

“See, Lucy? Easy as rollin’ off a log.”

Lucy had none of the innate abilities of a rabbit, but she remembered reading a story once where children used a set of sheets to solve a similar predicament. Rummaging through her trunk, she pulled out several white and blue sheets and began the work of tying them together. When she was satisfied with the strength and length of her makeshift rope, she again approached the window. The drop appeared longer than before, and Lucy felt less sure of her knots.

“You can do it, Lucy,” Charlie whispered.

Lucy pulled on her knots again. They shifted a little but did not separate. She tied one end to the leg of her bed and threw the other out the window. Its slight thud against the lawn made Lucy listen for any echoed disturbances in the house. When she was sure that her mother still slept soundly, she continued. Lucy pulled on the sheet and nothing moved. Gingerly, she mounted the frame and began her descent. She hung in the air unable to let go; her hands felt like clamps.

“One hand at a time,” said Charlie.

Slowly she let herself down, her grip reluctantly giving way as she lowered herself one hand before the other. Before she could register her progress, her feet felt the ground.

“See Lucy, like I said - easy.” 

They crossed the lawn to the sidewalk and turned left. The street led straight to a forest, and behind it loomed the hill they intended to climb. Atop the hill was a great tree, its silhouette rising into the starry night. 

Lucy skipped along the pavement, Charlie hopping behind her. Despite their objective, the quiet and comfort of a summer night felt free. Lucy hadn’t been allowed outside in months. They made their way with a light breeze against their backs. Each home they passed appeared somber, stately, and imposing. She felt like an adventurer exiting a castle with a quest from the queen, the homes like guards seeing her out the gates.

As they walked further down the street, the forest grew taller, the lights dimmer and thinner, even the houses looked like they were pulling away from the forest. The road ended where a trail began.

“Charlie, I don’t know if I can do this.”

Charlie rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Well, we can always turn back. I myself have done so before.” He hopped over to her and put his great paws on her shoulders. “But listen. If we don’t face down these vile monsters now, they will follow you for the rest of your life. They’ll be under your bed, coming through your window, and crawling from your closet. If we take care of it tonight, you will be free.” 

Lucy hugged Charlie as tight as she could. She gulped. “Okay, Charlie, okay.” 

They pressed on into the wood, the scant light rapidly fading behind them.

“We can’t see,” said Lucy.

“Not to worry.” Charlie slapped his stomach and his nose began to glow a dusty yellow. Lucy was startled as the forest transformed into a stew of shadows. Out of the darkness came wicked smiles, probing limbs, grasping hands, and starving jaws. Lucy was about to scream when Charlie signaled her forward. The shades receded and the forest stilled; only the rustle of their footsteps softly broke its silence. 

They came to a fork in the trail with a signpost in between. Charlie pushed his face up to it and squinted.

“Don’t make much sense to me. White Cross? Pumpelly? Which way do you think we should go?”

“I’m not sure,” Lucy said.

“In my life, when I’ve come to a place where I can’t decide which way to go, there’s always Lady Luck to consult,” Charlie said, the light on his nose wobbling between dim and bright. 

“Lady Luck?”

“Chance! Fate! The indeterminate aspect of the universe!” His voice rose to a shout, his nose beamed like a star, and Lucy pushed her palms down against the air. “Ah, yes, quiet - sorry.” He whispered. “We can’t guarantee we will get where we need to go, but we won’t get anywhere if we stay put. Any ideas on how we curry her favor?”

“I know!” She approached the signs and pointed from one to another as she chanted:

“Charlie, barley, marley, ma!

Kick a monster in the craw!

If he hollers, let him squawk!

Charlie, barley, marley, ma!”

Her finger landed on the “Pumpelly” sign.

“That about settles it,” said Charlie

Lucy paused. “I don’t think I like Pumpelly. Let’s go down White Cross.” 

Charlie let out a full-bellied laugh, the light from his nose bouncing with his body. “Marvelous!”

Down White Cross they went. It bent and wound like a brook and was almost as wet. Clouds laid a misty haze on the trail and between the trees. The wispy threads of fog conjured phantoms which leered and reached out at them so that even Charlie became jumpy. Thick, sticky mud began to cling to Lucy’s shoes and Charlie’s feet as they trudged around the bend. The trail ended abruptly, and the hill appeared before them, its outline ascending into the gloom.

“You’ve done good, Lucy. Whatever is at the top of that hill, I’ll face it with you.”

They started to climb. She stared at her feet and wondered what might be at the summit. A great witch commanding the forces of darkness? A ghastly dragon? A gargantuan ogre? She glanced back at Charlie hopping behind her. His face looked troubled and tired, the light from his nose blurred against the fog. She was about to tell him that they should turn back and forget this adventure, but the ground under her feet flattened. They were at the top. 

There was no sign of magic or monsters. The landing was flat and vacant except for a small gravestone under the crown of a large maple tree. Lucy approached the gravestone cautiously. Hundreds of brittle, brown flower stems littered the bare patch of dirt in front of it. They crunched beneath her shoes. She leaned forward and sounded out the inscription on the gravestone.

“Here...lies….Charles...Price

Bell-oved Father and Hus-band”

Her words were an incantation. Clouds above her thickened black and rolled violently. Lucy spun around looking for Charlie desperately, hopelessly. Against the darkened sky, the tree’s branches writhed and snapped like whips. A knot at the tree’s center churned. Lucy stood transfixed. Distorted faces -- laughing, crying, shrieking -- flickered upon the knot. The faces pushed themselves against the bark, extending towards Lucy. She fell backwards and was enveloped.

Lucy found herself facing a door, ajar. Her joints were filled with static. An anchor sagged at the bottom of her stomach. She thought it would be impossible to take a single step, but her foot rose and sank towards the door as naturally as any step she had taken before. Lucy lightly pushed open the door and entered. The room was disheveled. Many papers littered the floor, on their tops big, red stamps blared “LATE” and “OVERDUE”. A bottle on a desk lay on its side, trickling whiskey onto the floor. On the opposite side of the desk were a pair of legs in dark, grey slacks, Lucy stepped towards them. The legs grew into a torso, the torso into a leaking skull. She screamed.

“Charlie! Charlie! Charlie!”. She found him behind the tree on his back staring at the sky. “Oh Charlie, I found you.” Lucy plunged herself upon him, his moist fur comforting on her cheek. She didn’t feel his embrace and backed away.

“Come on Charlie, let’s get up and go.” 

She pleaded, “Charlie please, let’s get out of here and go home.” 

She commanded, “Get up Charlie! This isn’t funny!”

She hit him on his chest, and the light on his nose went out.