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Read after [Draft] Blood Moon 004.
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Point of View: Jeremy
Featured Characters: Jeremy Hollinger, Jerry Hollinger, Julian Hollinger, Sandra Hollinger
Word Count: 1,348
Julian decides that bath time is no longer going to be a thing.
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“Noooooooooooooooooooooo!”
A little girl ran wildly up the stairs on tiny legs, dripping and spattering muck in her wake. Her damp curls were naturally brown, but you wouldn’t know it from the mud that covered her head to toe. Her bedroom door slammed shut behind her so hard that the picture frames on the wall shuddered. Two seconds later, a portrait of a young woman fell from its nail and hit the wooden floor of the upstairs hallway, the glass shattering.
Jeremy Hollinger followed the trail of dirty footprints through the house, taking the steps two at a time and hopping over the broken glass on the way to retrieve his child. When he tried the doorknob to her room, he found it locked.
Six, Jeremy was learning, was not a good age.
“Julian, you’ve GOT to take a bath. This is not negotiable!” He tried to moderate his tone, but he’d already done two laps around the ground floor and was quickly losing patience.
“NO! I’m not taking a bath EVER AGAIN!” his daughter’s shrill voice answered.
The door across the hall opened and out popped a head of curly grey hair. Its owner wore a pair of bifocals and a surly scowl. This was just great. Jeremy already knew that his father’s input would really amp up this situation… from frustrating to infuriating, that is.
“What’s all this racket, then?” asked Jeremy Senior, adjusting his spectacles as he glared at his son.
“It’s bath time. Julian’s decided that’s not going to be a thing anymore, apparently.”
His father seemed to enjoy that answer. “You didn’t like baths either.”
“Thank you for that valuable contribution, Dad.” Jeremy clonked his head against Julian’s bedroom door. Behind him, he heard Jerry snort and step out into the hall. “Watch out. Picture frame broke.”
“You’re just not asking her properly.” Paying him no mind, the older man stepped around him and knocked on his granddaughter’s door. “Julian, would you please open the door for Grandpa? We can’t have you traipsing around being smelly.”
“NOPE. No baths! I’ll drown!”
The two men exchanged concerned glances. That wasn’t a reasoning for which either was prepared. After a long moment of silent conversation, it was Jeremy who spoke first.
“Where’d you get that idea, kiddo?” he asked. “It’s just a few inches of water. You know I’m not going to let anything happen to you, right?”
“Grandpa says they used to dunk weird girls in lakes and tubs to see if they were bad witches ’cause bad witches float and I CAN’T float so I’ll drooooooooooown!” was Julian’s answering, run-on wail. Jeremy sucked in one long, deep breath. He turned towards his father, bracing against the door with one hand; the other jabbed a finger at Jerry’s chest.
“You told my weirdo kid that that people drown weird girls,” Jeremy accused.
At least Jerry had the decency to look a little bit chagrined before his red-faced bluster took over.
“That—That sure as hell isn’t what I was inferring, Junior!” he insisted, swatting Jeremy’s hand away like it was an offending insect. “I was instructing her on the history of our family. She needs to know where we came from—”
“She’s SIX! You can’t tell a six-year-old this kind of shit!”
Jerry scoffed, but for once Jeremy got the impression he might’ve actually scored a point against the old man. His father tried the knob again, then stepped back and rose on his toes to feel along the edge of the door frame. Jeremy spotted a glint of metal as Jerry snatched up the key from its hiding place and turned it in the lock. Father and son both heard the soft click of the mechanism… but when Jerry pushed at the door, it didn’t budge.
The older man’s bushy grey brows furrowed. He put his shoulder into it, but still the door held fast. Sharing his father’s confusion, Jeremy stepped in to add his weight, but even between the two of them they couldn’t force it open.
“How on earth is she keeping this shut?” muttered Jerry. He raised his voice, cajoling, “Julian! Open the door this instant!”
“NEVER! Me and Francis will stay in here forever and we’ll never take baths and I’ll live on bugs and sunshine!” she shot back.
“Who the hell is Francis?” Jerry wanted to know. He shot his son a questioning stare.
Jeremy grimaced and rubbed at his eyes. “She named the shadows Francis.”
“After Francis Bacon?” asked Jerry slowly. Those eyebrows were furrowing so hard that it looked like one very long, fuzzy caterpillar had overtaken his forehead.
“…No.” Jeremy hemmed and hawed. He wished he’d never tried to show his father some of his comic books. “After Francis Castle. I thought it was funny at the time, so I—”
“You let this hell-raising child name a horde of formless shadows after the goddamned Punisher?!” shouted the Hollinger patriarch, his face practically purple with outrage. “Are you TRYING to curse this whole family?!”
“Look! I don’t need you criticizing my shit parenting choices right now, okay? We need to get her out of there and in the bath before Sandra—”
The sound of a feminine throat clearing made the words die on Jeremy’s lips. When he turned, his hazel eyes fell on an all-too-amused grin playing at the edges of a pale pink mouth. Envisioning it from her perspective, he supposed this would make for a hilarious sight: a pair of old men shouting at each other in the hallway, unable to coax a little girl out from behind a closed door.
Sandra squeezed her husband’s forearm as he moved out of her way and she took his place. Jeremy didn’t protest. He knew when to let the professional handle the job.
“Sweetie, are you in there?” Sandra called out, leaning up against the door.
“Mummy?” Julian’s little voice was muffled.
“You don’t want to take a bath? Are you sure? We have lots of bubbles left.”
“No thank you, Mummy.” That was less muffled. “Baths are scary now. Even ones with bubbles.”
Sandra paused for a few moments, biting her bottom lip while she considered her reply. Jeremy could watch the whole process play out in her expression, right down to the exact second she made up her mind.
“I see,” was Sandra’s grave answer. “That’s too bad. Would you like to try a big girl shower instead? Mummy can show you how to use the faucets.”
There was a pause. The only sound was the ticking of the grandfather clock at the end of the hall. Now Jeremy was imagining Julian leaning on the other side of the door, her round little face mirroring her mother’s exactly while she too considered this idea. At long last the door swung ajar with a creak and one uncertain hazel eye peered out from the crack.
“A big girl shower? Can I use yours and Daddy’s with the grownup shampoo?”
“If that’s what you want, baby girl,” Sandra told her with a nod and a wide smile. “Just until we get your own bathroom all fixed up. That way if you decide you want to try baths again, we’ll know it’s nice and safe. Alright?”
That finally did the trick. With the air of a tiny queen, Julian pulled the door open the rest of the way and started her muddy march down the hallway toward the master bedroom. Sandra threw a pointed glance over her shoulder at her husband and her father-in-law… and though she didn’t say a word to either of them, the look on her face spoke volumes.
Within minutes the sounds of running water and delighted giggling filled the hallway.
“Drowning weird girls, Dad?” Jeremy glanced askance at his father. “You honestly didn’t think that’d scare her?”
“The PUNISHER, Junior. Is it impossible for you to take things seriously?”
“Yours is worse.”
“I beg to differ.”
“Shut up and get that glass off the floor before my grandchild steps in it.”
The Hollinger men, as per usual, would have to agree to disagree.
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