Far Horizons: Tales of Sci-Fi, Fantasy and Horror. Issue #20 November 2015 | Page 28
rummaged through drawers in the kitchen, pulling
out items now and then; a ribbon, a button, a piece of
thread.
“What are you doing baby?” Christopher
asked. Emily did not turn to him as she answered.
“Repration.”
“Pardon?”
Emily stopped, and Christopher watched her
scrunch up her hands as she often did when spelling a
new word.
“Reh...recit...recip...reciproction...
reciprocation!”
Christopher’s mouth turned to dust.
“Where did you hear that word? Did you hear
it from Mummy? Or one of her friends?”
“Uncle Jack told me.”
Emily fished out a toothpick from the drawer
and then pushed it close, hopping down from the stool
with her hands full of strange goodies. Christopher
followed, saying nothing as his little girl placed the
items in the box and closed the lid.
“Emily, this is important,” he took the box
from her for a moment and knelt in front of her,
staring into her dark eyes and trying his best not to
sound concerned.
“What exactly did Jack tell you?”
“Jack gave me the toy, isn’t it pretty Daddy?
It’s all mine but he said that because he gave it to me
he needed reh...recip...”
“Reciprocation. Was that what those things
were?”
Emily nodded brightly.
“He wanted string and a button and a tooth
thingy and a ribbon and something else but he
wouldn’t say yet.”
“What does he look like baby? Have you seen
him?”
She shook her head and smiled.
“Not yet!”
Christopher tried to ignore the box for the rest
of the day, it wouldn’t do Emily any harm after all,
but he found his eyes wandering back to it. Emily kept
it with her at all times, and even tried to slip it in bed
with her as he tucked her in for the night. The thought
of that made him shudder for a reason he couldn’t
explain, and he made her place it on her bedside table
instead. As soon as he closed the door he felt stupid.
No other father would be wary of a wooden box.
He paced back and forth for a while, and then
when he knew Emily would be sleeping, he crept back
into the room, closing the door behind him to shut out
the light from the hall.
A warm breeze pushed gently at the curtains,
and a small light outside gave birth to distorted
shadows that flickered with the movement of the
fabric. He stood still until he could hear Emily
breathing lightly and then gently manoeuvred around
the room until he reached the bed.
Emily’s pink face poked out from under the
duvet, and beside it was the box, open-mouthed with a
belly full of shadows.
Christopher sighed and flipped the lid closed,
wincing as it creaked loudly. Emily didn’t stir. With
relief he watched a small strand of hair against her
lips move with her breath. He smiled, and gently
tucked the strand behind her ear, kissed her gently, and
walked back to the door.
From behind came a slow, loud, metallic creak.
Christopher stopped.
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