Baby Teeth by Dan Rabarts

Author:Dan Rabarts
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: baby teeth, creepy kid, short stories, creepy stories, horror, creepy child
Publisher: paperroadpress
Published: 2013-10-31T16:00:00+00:00

The Character of 82 James St

Anna Caro

The James Street house has all the space we need. No more crowding into one bedroom because the creeping mould has claimed the second. No more buckets in the hallway or loose planks in the floor. The house needs some work, sure – there are window frames to be stripped and repainted, doors to be eased – but it’s sturdy. They don’t make houses like this anymore.

‘Has character’ was what the advert said. I always thought that was a euphemism for falling down, but when we moved, lugging in boxes and mattresses from the rented trailer, I understood what it really meant. It had characteristics, it was a member of our family, more a person than an assembly of wood. The sawdust and paint flakes smelled of success; success a long way from my childhood.

Tonight I pause outside the girls’ bedroom. To tell the truth, I’d rather that maybe just for these first few nights, they stayed with us, in our room. The decoration of their bedroom in coral and cream, the new beds with carved roses on the headboards, were always more about me than them. I wanted to feel that, if I was abandoning them to their own room instead of having them right there where I could see them – like it had been for so long – then at least it would be a nice place.

It’s ridiculous, I know. Kids grow up. It’s healthy – and besides, it’s nice to finally get some sleep. Emmy in particular seems happy with her newfound measure of independence. She’s burbling happily on the other side of the door, fragments of sentences emerging in spurts.

‘Cut me—’ she says, ‘—cut me into pieces – into the wall – put me in the wall – cut in pieces ...’

Denny – who has appeared behind me without me noticing – half-chokes with laughter. I raise my finger to my lips and he shakes his head in apology.

‘What did she just say?’ he whispers. ‘A bit creepy, eh? She’s got an imagination that one.’

I dismiss him. ‘Probably just something on TV she’s got confused about.’

By morning the rain has cleared, and with it most of my worries. After breakfast the girls are out in the garden, leaping through puddles. They’re well fenced in here, safe, and I even get to read a book close to the window.

‘Come on Emmy, let’s get you out of those.’ It’s lunchtime and Emmy, like her sister, is soaked.

I peel the sodden clothes from her, feeling a pang of guilt. Would a good mother let her children out in weather like this? What if she catches a chill? But she’s still smiling; smiling as she dutifully stretches her arms over her head so I can tug the dress from her. She sits on a towel on the sofa so I can remove her shoes. One, then the other. Then I stop.

‘What happened here, sweetie?’ One side of the sock is caked with blood.

She shakes her head.

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