The Evolution of Alice
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Authors: David Alexander Robertson
© 2014 by David Alexander Robertson
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Cover Photo By Pauline Boldt
Digital (EPUB) ISBN 978-1-55379-527-8
Print ISBN – 978-1-55379-518-6
Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication
Robertson, David, 1977-, author
The evolution of Alice / David Robertson.
ISBN 978-1-55379-518-6 (pbk.)
I. Title.
| PS8585.O32115E96 2014 | C813’.6 | C2014-903935-2 |
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to jill
ONE
The boy, dressed in a too-big black wool suit complete with a poor-boy cap, sat at the edge of the lake throwing large rocks into the water and watching them disappear. His dress shoes, also too big, black socks, and clip-on tie, rested near his bare feet. When tiny waves thrust upon the shore, the boy’s discarded clothing was momentarily submerged. He didn’t notice, nor would he have cared if he did notice. It wasn’t long before an old man navigated his way down the slight embankment, across the shore, to stand beside the boy. The old man wore similar clothing to the boy’s, right down to his own poor-boy cap. The old man watched the boy pick up another large rock and toss it into the water.
“Everybody’s wondering about you,” the old man said.
The boy didn’t answer. He picked up an even larger rock and threw it. It splashed hollowly and disappeared.
“Why did you leave?” the old man said.
The boy shrugged. “She felt like an old tire. She didn’t feel like Mom. Mom was warm.”
The old man smiled on one side of his face and sighed. He placed his hand on the boy’s shoulder for a moment, then kneeled down and sifted through the large collection of stones at their feet. Eventually, he picked up a black, flat stone. The boy watched as the old man skipped the stone expertly across the water. It skipped five times before disappearing beneath the surface. The boy was momentarily amazed by the skipping stone but quickly picked up another rock indiscriminately and threw it into the lake. The old man watched the boy do this, then knelt down and carefully selected another rock, black and flat and smooth. The boy looked at the rock resting in the old man’s palm.
“You know,” the old man said, “my rocks have much more fun than yours.”
The old man flicked the rock toward the lake. This time, it skipped six times before sinking. The boy watched after the skipping stone, and kept watching for a moment after the rock had sunk. The boy then shook his head.
“It doesn’t matter,” the boy said. “They all end up at the bottom of the lake.”
“They sure do. Each and every one of them,” the old man said. “But, Grandson, sometimes it’s how you get there, not where you end up.”
The boy walked over to a very large rock and sat down on it. He thought about what his grandpa had said for a long time. The old man came and stood beside the boy. Eventually, the boy lowered his hand and began to search through rocks resting around his feet. He picked up a white stone that was flat and had a little wedge at the corner he felt would fit his thumb just perfect. He held the stone up to his grandpa.
“Would you teach me how to make it skip?” the boy said.
The old man nodded.
W
HEN THE LITTLE GIRL AWOKE, IT WAS DARK.
Darkness on the rez wasn’t the same as darkness in the city. In the city, darkness hides within the recesses, away from the warm glow of streetlights, away from the curious glares of porch lights, away from the blinding sheen of cars’ headlights, the high beams and the low beams. In the city, the darkness is shy. On the rez, however, in the open spaces, in the absence of artificial lights, the darkness plays. It always scared the little girl. It was where the monsters were—the fiends, the ghouls, the ghosts, and goblins. The girl’s mother always turned on the nightlight—a bright little thing that was shaped appropriately like the sun—before putting her to bed. But on this night, when the little girl awoke, the light was off.
She found that her mother was sleeping with her, but this was nothing new. Her mother always slept either with her or on the mattress on the floor with the girl’s two big sisters. The little girl instinctively shuffled backwards until her tiny bum was pushed up against her mother’s stomach. But the darkness started to play games with the girl. It turned the dresser into a big, hairy ghoul. It turned the toy bin into a white, hovering ghost. It turned her stuffed animals into hungry little goblins. And she swore she saw a fiend, green and grotesque and hungry, stalking back and forth in the hallway just outside her bedroom door, waiting to eat her whole with its large and terrible jaws. She flipped over in bed so she was facing her mother and placed her tiny palm onto her mother’s cheek.
“Mommy,” she said.
Her mother didn’t move.
“Mommy,” she said, this time a bit louder.
But still her mother didn’t move. She wanted to hide behind her mother, but she was pushed right up against the bedroom wall, so there was nowhere for the little girl to go. She turned back around and peeked out across the bedroom from behind the protection of her mother’s arm. The monsters were still there. The little girl knew they wouldn’t leave until the light came back. It was the only thing they were afraid of. She decided to do a very brave thing. She shimmied out from underneath her mother’s arm and slid off the bed. Her naked feet touched the wood floor, and she ran toward the nightlight in order to turn it back on. Her thin, shoulder-length hair chased behind her, bouncing up and down with each step. She stepped over her sisters, all the way across the room, right up to the electrical outlet. She tried to ignore the scary things behind her, and the fiend waiting for her outside the bedroom, as her tiny fingers fumbled with the nightlight, trying to make it work. She’d seen her mother turn it on many times and knew how to do it, but each time she flicked the nightlight on, it didn’t light up.
She ran over to the mattress and tried to wake up her middle sister. The little girl lowered her head so that her face was in front of the middle sister’s. Their noses touched.
“Jayney,” she said.
Jayne groaned. She swatted at the air, as though a fly was buzzing around her head, and turned over to face the other direction. The little girl tried to wake the big sister up next. She crawled right on top of her sister. She placed her hands on either side of her big sister’s head and lowered her face so that it was right in front of her big sister’s. Their noses touched.
“Katty,” she said.
“What is it?” the big sister said.
“Nigh ligh,” the little girl said.
Kathy turned over, tossing the little girl down onto the mattress. She buried her face into the pillow.
“Turn it on,” Kathy said, her voice muffled by the pillow. “Turn on the nightlight then.”
The little girl sat up on the mattress and crawled over to Kathy.
“It’s broked,” she said.
“Go to sleep,” Kathy said.
The little girl tried to wake Kathy again, but it was no use.
She was alone.
She looked around the room from her sisters’ mattress. The monsters were bigger now, and getting closer. The little girl thought her only chance was to be braver still and run out of the bedroom to try and find light. Otherwise, the monsters would get bigger and closer until they caught her. She got up from the mattress, ran out of the bedroom and into the hallway. She didn’t break stride. The light was out there, somewhere. She ran down the hallway as fast as she could. She swore she could hear the tip-tap-tip-tap of the fiend and its awful high heels chasing after her. She shrieked as she made it out of the hallway. She ran straight through the kitchen and living room and out the front door.
When she got outside, she looked back at the house to see if any of the monsters had followed her there. It was just as dark outside as it was inside. She looked around. The things she recognized in the light were far different in the dark. The toys strewn about the driveway, the ones she played with in the day, were things she wouldn’t go near in the night’s long shadow. Everything was ready to pounce on her. Her lower lip jutted out, and tears began to well up in her eyes. She wanted her mommy, but she was too afraid to go back inside the house. She looked around, desperate for something that might help. She started at the house and methodically turned clockwise, her tiny feet shuffling against the gravel as though slow dancing with the night. She could hardly see the highway and wouldn’t go there anyway. Her mother wouldn’t let her near it in the day, and she certainly wouldn’t go near it in the dark. The shed at the end of the driveway looked like a haunted house, and the little girl quickly looked away from it. That left only one place.
