Except from "Child's Play") A short story by N.S. Johnson Read by the author
Child’s Play
(to the memory of Ray Bradbury)
Blooming June. Morrisville rejoices in summer’s flower;
schools closing, family picnics in the park, canoeing on the Nashoba River, swimming
at Blake’s Pond, gathering blueberries in the south woods and, in a month, the
much-anticipated Morrisville 4th of July festivities. This week, besides
anticipated vacations, shorts and short-sleeves, boating and bathing suits,
beach balls and barbeques, something else—something extraordinary—has the
village all stirred up.
All week, they’ve been gossiping and texting about him— that man who came to town last
Sunday morning in a loudly-painted gypsy van—the one who drove right up Main
Street, then moved in and took ownership of Ben’s Village Antiques. Old Ben
died a year ago, his shop shut and shuttered—until today.
Who is Silas Keebler, this lanky, pale
man with the black, slicked-back hair and enormous, peering brown eyes and sporting
old-world garb, and why has he come to
Morrisville?
Three women nattered over coffee and muffins in Popovers after their morning jog. "Been
over to Ben's since the new owner moved in?” Connie Brooks, heavily into her
forties, was madly curious. “Maybe we should take a peek.”
Kim Anderson, early
thirties, drummed her fingers on the table. “Creeps me out—that weird face
staring through the shop window. I hear the whole place is infested with
cobwebs.”
Connie shivered.
Joan Finney, the youngest, leaned forward, as if to reveal a
secret. “Perhaps he’s from outer-space—come to spy before they land.”
Connie set down her mug. “Before who lands?”
“The aliens, of course.” Joan whispered.
Kim jumped. “What?”
Joan narrowed her eyes and pointed her finger upwards,
hummed the theme from The Twilight Zone,
and then they all laughed.