14-Sept-2018
Shoulder Angels and Toenail Clippings
I’ll let you think about that for a minute
I closed one eye and studied the angle of the light. It would shine down from above and just hit the edge of each stair. Perfect.
“You must realize that this foolhardy plan of yours will never come to fruition.”
Why did I have to get stuck with the verbose counterpart? “You underestimate the idiocy of a teenage boy.” Two could play at her word game. I floated down the rickety stairs to the grimy cement floor below.
“You truly believe you can lure him here with shiny objects?”
“Did you have brothers?”
“No.” Did I detect an edge of irritation in her voice?
I snorted and turned to face my counterpart. She had been beautiful in life. Tall, slender with cascading curls that framed her pretty face. Pouty lips surly would have drawn all sorts of men to her. Her ample bosoms would have helped too. She glowed just enough so I could the ethereal robe she wore and the fact that while it covered everything, it didn’t leave much to the imagination.
Just looking at her made me want to roll in the grime on the floor. “Look, doll, boys will be boys.”
She tossed one of her curls over her shoulder. “I have been working on him all week about thinking before following his impulses.”
“And how has that been going?” I asked as I moved to the small pile of toenail clippings.
“I believe I have made significant progress,” she said. I could tell she was lying because her glow dimmed a bit.
I licked my lips and reached toward a particularly large toenail. A specimen I had gathered from the old man next door. Yellowed, thick and a big jagged along one edge. I imagined what it would feel like to touch it. The way the surface would press into my own fingers, and how it might hurt a little if I scratched the jagged bit along my skin.
Now, I no longer had skin, per se, but I could still manipulate other dead things. It took a high level of concentration, but I could—
“You’re going to touch those?”
The disgust in her voice normally would have made me laugh. Instead I glared. “Quiet, while your betters are working.”
She stepped closer and I ground my teeth. “Why bother? He’s going to ignore your little trail of clues. He’s supposed to be cleaning the house while his mother is at work, and right now he’s dusting.”
“He’s looking at the magazines his friends brought over yesterday.”
If she could have turned red she would have. One moment she was glowering down at me, and the next she zoomed through the ceiling toward Mile’s room.
“Finally,” I muttered. I turned back to the toenail and like a child zeroing in on one pea, I pinched the item in my fingers and picked it up.
Since she would be busy for a few minutes, I looked around and immediately found what I was looking for. A smile spread my lips as I moved toward the shelves that lined one wall. A small bottle of silver glitter had gotten bumped and, in turn, had broken and spilled into a small pile. I brought the toenail to my mouth, licked it and then dipped it into the glitter. The ooze from my tongue gave just enough stickiness to catch a few of the pieces of silver.
“Perfect,” I muttered. I floated back to the stairs and laid it on the edge, right where the light would catch it.
I put two more on the stairs, and then positioned the last on a weak spot.
Footsteps echoed from above, and my eyes tracked Mile’s journey from his room, down the hall, through the kitchen and to the top of the stairs.
I could hear my counterpart whispering at him, but I knew boys, and he wasn’t going to listen. Not when for weeks I’d been trying to convince him that his mom was hiding some of his dad’s old stuff down here.
The door opened, and as soon as his eyes would have spotted me, I disappeared from his sight. A switch clicked, and the light at the top of the stairs went on.
I held my breath. My counterpart had her good claws deep into the kid, but I’d tried a different angle, and today I was hoping my strategy would pay off.
Miles stared into the basement. He was afraid of the dark, but he was more interested in his dad’s old army stuff. His eyes flickered down, and I smiled.
The first toenail caught the light and glittered back at Miles.
Shiny objects were such a simple thing, but so effective.
Miles licked his lips, then stepped down once.
“Keep coming, kid,” I said quietly. “Don’t you want to know more about your dad?”
I could see the conflict on his face, but while my counterpart talked to him more than I did, I pushed him in other ways. In exciting ways. In non-talking/boring ways.
Miles swallowed, squared his shoulders and started down the stairs.
As I had predicted, he stopped to look at the first toenail. His expression when he picked it up almost made me laugh, but that didn’t stop him from going to the next one, and the next.
I held my breath as he came to the last one. He’d picked up the rest, but I had predicted he’d be bored of that by now.
To me delight, instead of retrieving the toenail, he stepped on it. Hard.
The stair under his foot gave way, and his leg went through to his thigh. Miles cried out in pain and anger.
He’d live—it wasn’t nearly as fun to kill my assignments as it was to torture them—but his mother was going to be very, very angry.
