Don't Bother Alice

Mikey lived in a town that was pretty rural and small. There weren't many kids in his hometown. As a current Junior in high school, barring any unfortunate circumstances and drop-outs, there would only be 74 students graduating along side him. The town itself was as quiet and unchanging as one would expect. Not much to do for teenagers except to join a team of some kind, see a movie, or make up their own trouble. Given just how rural the area was, the trouble the teens got into involved hitting mail boxes or pranking one another. Nothing too serious. After all, all parents in town either knew each other, or knew someone who knew the other. It was too small a town to risk making real enemies with the other residents. Everyone was so connected with everyone else in the community that even parking lot gossip got to parents, school officials, and even town officials right away. Fights were often squashed before they could even begin. Did you not like Diane from 3rd period? Well you better find a way to get over it fast or good luck getting her dad or any of his friends to fix any problems with your pipes in the winter.

This is all to say that there is nothing and no one that the townsfolk didn't know through a relatively short chain of connections. That is of course, except for Alice. No one knew where she came from, or how she came to be placed so perfectly on the stump where she sat. Nor did anyone know how she had not shattered or become worn through the many decades that she had sat there. But the townspeople did know one thing: Alice was never to be disturbed in any way. She sat just slightly off of the center of town and just within the edge of its limits. Most people felt sorry for 67-year old Mr. Carson, since it was his farm gate she resided in front of. None of Mr. Carson's cattle would go anywhere near the side of the gate Alice sat so primly by. It had been that way since Mr. Carson's father had owned the farm. If you asked anyone's grandparents who might have remembered anything about Mr. Carson's father, they'll tell you about one unremarkable day in April about 81 years ago. One morning, in the middle of April after a night of heavy storms, Alice appeared. She and the stump she sat on were perfectly dry. Her hands were placed on her little lap. Her little satin dress was baby blue. Her corn yellow hair was done in braids and exposed her gray-blue eyes. Her pink painted cheeks and smiling lips looked out at the rest of the community.

At first, the doll received some curious looks. People paused, took a quick gander, and then continued on their way. Some asked if anyone's little girl had lost her doll. But no one would step forward to claim Alice. She sat there smiling for 2 weeks before the previous Mr. Carson made a decision. At first he thought the doll pretty but odd. After all, who leaves such an obviously expensive doll in front of a farm for so long. However, it's not like the doll had been hurting anything by being there. Old Mr. Carson had inspected her very carefully about 4 days in to Alice's arrival and that is how he learned her name. Stitched into the bottom of her little blue skirt in golden thread was the name "Alice." Now like any other reasonable man, he had at first asked around. No such luck. He inquired about visiting relatives of any of the townspeople. Nothing. He went to the antique shop owned by Mrs. Emery and wanted to know if she had sold a doll like this to anyone. But sweet and confused Mrs. Emery said she'd never had such a doll. She did however, confirm that the porcelain doll was quite old and obviously professionally cared for. She was even more confused to know that it had been sitting outside for days with not even a fallen leaf to sully its appearance.

And so, after 14 days of waiting for an owner, Old Mr.Carson asked if any of the town's children would consider taking Alice for their own. There had been some half-hearted interest when Old Mr. Carson had first made the rounds to ask after an owner for the doll. But now, with blatant permission to have the doll, one child stepped forward immediately. Jessica Andrews was not a particularly bad child. At least, the adults didn't think so. A pinch spoiled and pushy. Just a little too selfish on the playground, but that was all perfectly expected of a 7 year old girl who was constantly touted as her parents' only pride and joy. The other children knew the truth. Jessica wasn't just demanding and spoiled, she was cruel. Broken tea sets and toys. Gum, paint, and burrs in hair. Scraped knees and chipped teeth. Groundings, broken bones, and finally, the blinding of an eye. And there always, Little Jessica Andrews with a smug little smile, that was never hidden as long as the adults weren't looking to put tears on for.

The day Old Mr. Carson announced that he would give the doll to whichever child wanted it first, Mr. and Mrs. Andrews stepped forward at their daughter's insistent tugging to ask for it. And Alice was handed to Jessica without any further prompting or questions. And for about a week there was quiet. Alice had a new owner, and Old Mr. Carson thought no more about the bizarre circumstances of her arrival. Then, on a beautifully clear and starry night, an indescribable scream was heard. Little Jessica was never found. But Alice was. Back on the stump she had first appeared at with a trail of bloody doll shoe-prints leading up to her prim seat. Mr. and Mrs. Andrews wailed, cursed, and begged for the return of their daughter. Some blamed Old Mr. Carson, but he had been at the bar with Mr. O'Neil about an hour and a half before the incident and about 2 hours after. Both had been seen by some of the other townspeople, the Mayor's Assistant, and Deputy Gallagher. The adults were in frenzied chaos and terror. The children though, were strangely subdued and silent. Not a single one of them even spoke Jessica's name. It was as if they had all formed a silent pact to say nothing. Until, of course, one of their parents finally noticed and asked.

Initially, Mrs. Coleman had thought her two girls and boy had just been scared and unsure. She had finally found the time one day, taking a break from the search party, to ask them how they were feeling.

"We're just trying to be good," said Aubrey, her second oldest.

Aubrey had been the child to lose sight in her right eye after an "accident" while playing with Jessica near some thorn bushes. It was a memory the whole town had tried to forget. A memory that Aubrey never tried to voice or correct to any of the adults after Jessica had told her version of events.

"Oh honey," Mrs. Coleman cooed, "Are you missing Jessica?"

"No," Aubrey denied. "Alice said we all need to be good and not fight anymore, or we'll have to be punished."

"Ms. Mulligan said what?!" Mrs. Coleman demanded to know, furious.

"Not Ms. Mulligan," Aubrey corrected, "Alice. Jessica's doll."

A similar answer was repeated by every child asked in town. There were town meetings for weeks after this came to light. One night after Mrs. Coleman had reported what Aubrey had said, Mr. Andrews took Alice from her tree stump to burn her. There was another nightmare-inducing scream then. Mrs. Andrews had been considered widowed ever since. The townspeople had silently submitted to Alice and her ways the very next day.

This had been the beginning of the town's forced harmony. And now, nearly a century later, everyone understood that you didn't approach Alice. Not unless you wanted someone to be punished, when everyone else was burying wrongs for the sake of preservation. How very unlucky for Mr. McKenzie then, that Mikey had seen what that man had tried with his mother. Mikey had no interest in preserving peace this time. And that was why, after everyone was asleep, he climbed from his bedroom window; and made his way to the forbidden corner of Mr. Carson's farm to make his plea.

One hour before dawn, a scream pierced through the frosted air.