The Speculative Short Fiction of Patricia Matthews by Patricia Matthews

The Speculative Short Fiction of Patricia Matthews by Patricia Matthews

Author:Patricia Matthews [[email protected]]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00


The week went by without Miss Lundy even being aware of the passage of the days. When Hammersmith called her from Washington, to tell her that he had been delayed, and to ask if she would keep little William another week, she went limp with joy. So, they began their second week, the cool spinster and the golden boy child, little William.

It was during this second week that William began to change. At first Miss Lundy hardly noticed it. Little things, so small that they slipped by the conscious mind.

On Monday he began to cry, at night, late. Miss Lundy struggled to consciousness and hurried to the side of her lovely child. He quieted at once when she came into the room, but the next night he cried again.

On Tuesday his table manners began to go down hill rapidly. Where before he had neatly inserted the laden spoon into his cherubic pink rosebud of a mouth, now he managed to drop most of the load on his clothes and face. Miss Lundy told herself that this was perfectly natural. Children often regressed briefly. She had read this in a book, she was certain.

Wednesday, it was toilet training; which was almost too much for her maidenly sensibilities. Before, he had always told her, in his little way, when it was necessary for him to use the bathroom facilities. Now... She wouldn’t have admitted it, but her golden boy was becoming tarnished.

On Thursday, he refused to kiss her when she put him down for his nap; not only that, but he began crying, striking at her with his small fists. It almost broke her heart.

On Friday she found him in the garden. The sunlight was making an aureole of his golden curls and his face was wrinkled in concentration. She went up to him to see what he was doing. He stopped for a moment and looked up at her with his beatific, shining smile. She looked down at his chubby pink hands, and gagged. He was happily pulling the legs off of a large grasshopper, which squirmed and moved horribly in the small grasp.

On Saturday, two weeks to the day of his arrival, Leontyne lay in bed late. She felt wan and headachy. She really did hope that Winston would come for the child today. She felt an uncomfortable ambivalence in her feeling for William. He was so pink, so warm, so adorable, but on the other hand...

She moved the scented cloth that rested upon her forehead, then sat bolt upright as a horrible sound split the air and struck her in the vulnerable spot between her eyes.

She stumbled to her feet and wrenched open the door. There was a flash of color; it took her a moment to make out the form of Daisy, the big yellow cat that belonged to her cook. He looked very strange, all patchy. She looked closer, as he cowered in the corner at the end of the hall. His hair was burned off in uneven patches.



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