CHAPTER I
GOWERLY AND CRUDE
On the corner of Hemlock Lane stood the crooked silhouette of an aged and cracking mansion. It was engulfed by a permanent shadow; even the sky above was a shade darker than the rest. Dusty cobwebs gathered on the manor’s barred windows where not even spiders would reside. A weathered cobblestone walkway weaved through the courtyard and disappeared into the dying undergrowth. Children and grownups alike crossed to the opposite side of the street when passing by, for fear of what might lurk within. The mansion was occupied, not by ghosts or a witch, but by a woman, a man, and thirty-some children. On a rusting black gate wavered a sign that read, Gowerly & Crude’s Home for Unwanted Children.
Beyond the eerie courtyard, arching black doors revealed a dusky lobby. Two decrepit staircases framed a hall leading to a large cafeteria.
“Children! You eat the lunch now!” Helga Beckenbauer screeched, and then pounded a cast iron bell. Helga was a dreadful old soul; as dreadful as the wart on her nose, which hung like a wilted potato. She didn’t speak often, but she didn’t have to. The grimace on her face was enough to convey the terrible things she might say.
In mere moments, children from all ends of the mansion gathered in the cafeteria. Lunch was the high point of their day; they knew quite well dinner would be nothing more than lunch’s cold leftovers. Breakfast was reserved for special occasions. Time between the two meals was filled with washing, sweeping, dusting, mopping, scrubbing, and – for the very unlucky – toilet duty.
“What’s on the menu today?” Lilly stood on her tiptoes attempting to see past the older kids, who were shoving and cutting in line.
“I can’t see,” Ira’s hair bounced as he hopped in place, unable to see over the taller kids’ heads.
It was apparent the two were siblings; they shared the same pale freckled skin, burgundy hair, and hazel eyes. However, even side by side no one would have guessed Lilly and Ira were twins.
“From the smell of it, it’s got to be… Peas… And bologna,” Peter Mayberry, a portly curly-haired boy said, quite sure of himself.
“Ick…” Ira’s tongue hung from his mouth.
Moving closer to the food bar unfortunately confirmed Peter’s prediction, aside from a basket of three-day-old wheat rolls.
“How do you do that?!” Ira asked.
“I don’t really know; my nose can just sense it.”
“Well, that’s a gift.”
“It’s not a gift. Anyone can smell food,” said Lilly.
“It’s a gift,” Ira said, “Not only does he smell it, he identifies it. He’s amazing!”
Lilly’s brow furrowed in contemplation as her analytical mind kicked in.
Ira jabbed her with his elbow and nudged his head toward Peter, who was staring at his feet with somber eyes.
“I mean,” Lilly forced some admiration, “yeah, Peter. That’s a pretty incredible gift you have.”
“You mean it?” Peter’s blue eyes burned with delight.
Lilly hesitated, turning toward the food bar. “No peas with mine, please.” She scrunched her nose at the mass of bubbling green goo.
“Me too,” said Ira, “No peas, please.”
Helga scowled through her squinty little shotgun eyes as she plopped a heaping ladle of peas on each of their plates.
Ira’s roll instantly sponged up the slimy juice.
A thick gray hair protruded from Lilly’s helping.
“Move along!” said Helga.
The twins turned a sickly tint, gagging at their so-called food.
“That hair net does absolutely nothing for Helga,” Lilly picked the monstrous hair out of her peas.
“Maybe the hair’s from her chin,” Ira smiled deviously.
Lilly pushed her plate away, causing Peter to nearly choke on his dry roll.
“If you’re not gonna eat tha–.”
“Go ahead,” said Lilly with a grumbling stomach.
The cafeteria doors burst open with a chilling breeze. The room silenced.
Henrietta Gowerly, the orphanage’s owner and live-in residence director, slithered in. The children froze, wide-eyed, peas quivering in their spoons. When Miss Gowerly was near, the air itself grew thin and cold. As she prowled by, her tattered black dress dragged behind in a serpentine path. Gowerly was a tall, slender woman with wrinkled leathery skin, pursed lips, and a crooked nose pointed snobbishly toward the ceiling.
The orphanage’s co-owner, Victor Crude, careened through the doors, bumbling to catch up with Miss Gowerly. Crude was a begrudging doormat of a man whom Gowerly molded with her every word. A greasy seaweed mane swung back and forth along the edges of his balding head as he limped on a bum leg. Spider leg hairs crept from his nose, ears, and abnormally large wart occupying his left cheek. Mr. Crude was so intent on reaching Miss Gowerly that he almost plowed into her when she came to a sudden halt. She focused a vile gaze toward Peter Mayberry, who was carelessly slurping up Lilly’s peas. Gowerly coiled her arm around Peter’s side and slammed her hand on the table.
Peter straightened, licking the green paste from his lips.
“Mr. Mayberry,” Gowerly began, “it seems you’ve weaseled yet another lunch from Miss Nobody.”
Lilly looked away. ‘Nobody’ is what Gowerly called her and Ira, since their last names were a mystery.
Peter shuffled his feet, avoiding Miss Gowerly’s poisonous glare.
“It’s okay, Lilly gave it to him,” Ira insisted.
Gowerly raised an eyebrow until one side of her forehead disappeared in a stack of wrinkles.
Ira shrank away.
“The day I let a child tell me what’s ‘okay’ in my orphanage is the day we close our doors and you’re all out on the street!” Miss Gowerly hissed, narrowing her eyes on Ira.
Mr. Crude’s neckless head crept up from behind her. He stared at Ira through angry twitching eyes, apparently trying to mimic Gowely’s frightening presence, but failing miserably.
Ira slapped a hand over his mouth to keep from laughing.
“Toilet duty for you Mr. Nobody!” A yellow smile curled onto Miss Gowerly’s face. “Now,” she continued toward the front of the room, her plastic heels clicking on the hardwood floor. “As some of you may be aware, we have had to make some budgetary cuts to keep this roof over your dirty little heads.”
“They wouldn’t be so dirty if our showers weren’t rationed,” Ira said quietly. Lilly elbowed him and pressed a finger over her closed lips.
“Another adjustment will be taking place, effective tomorrow.” Miss Gowerly spun to face the children. “There will be a slight decrease in our quality of food.”
A rumble of disapproving moans erupted.
“Nooo…” Peter murmured.
“Decrease in quality?” Ira said. “What could be worse than old bologna and mushy peas?”
“That’s enough!” Miss Gowerly stomped, silencing the room with an echoing thud. “I’m sure you’d all like to see what you’ll have to look forward to from now on. Mr. Crude, will you do the honors?”
Crude’s left eye twitched as he glowered at the children.
“Mr. Crude!” Gowerly kicked his shin.
Crude looked at her with a puzzled face, then straightened as a bulb lit in his brain. He fumbled a can of pureed meat from the inside pocket of his coat. Above the photo of a textured pinkish blob, red bold letters read McGillan’s Mystery Meats, followed by the suspicious shape of a dog’s paw print.
“These will be your new meals,” Miss Gowerly said with clear satisfaction, “breakfast, lunch, and dinner.”
#
After lunch, the halls were more somber than usual. Children glided by like faceless ghosts; some had brooms slung over their shoulders, others carried buckets and mops. Ira held nothing more than a frayed toothbrush and tile cleaner.
“I can’t believe she still calls us children,” Ira said. “We’re thirteen, and the oldest are sixteen. The only children here are the newbies.”
“Sorry you got toilet duty, Ira,” Peter fidgeted his feather duster. “Thanks for standing up for me in there. You didn’t have to do that.”
“Yes, I did,” said Ira. “No one else would have. Gowerly needs to understand that she can’t just walk around insulting us.”
“Well, technically she can,” Lilly said, “She owns us. She can do whatever she wants, and now you have toilet duty, again. Therefore, Miss Gowerly wins. How many times have you had the bathrooms this year? Twenty?”
“Thirty-seven,” Ira glared at his toothbrush.
“Ira!” Lilly scolded, “You need to be more careful.”
“Where’s the fun in that?” Ira smiled. “Speaking of fun… want to see something cool?”
“Yes!” Peter exclaimed.
Lilly shook her head discordantly.
Ira took the two by their hands and pulled them down an empty hall. He produced a bent-up copper hairpin from his pocket.
Peter’s eager face went limp.
“I shouldn’t be asking this, but what is that?” Lilly sighed.
“It’s one of Miss Gowerly’s hairpins. I found it on the floor while I was sweeping yesterday.”
“And you’re going to do what with it?” Peter asked.
“Look at this,” Ira led them further down the hall to a cabinet-sized door on the wall. Similar locked doors were located throughout the mansion. Miss Gowerly claimed this was where she dumped children who misbehaved.
Ira stuck the twisted hairpin into the keyhole. He fiddled with the lock for a moment until it clicked.
The door creaked open.
Peter poked his head inside and got a face full of spider webs.
“What is it?” Lilly asked.
“Some kind of vent or something,” Peter coughed, wiping his eyes and mouth.
“It’s an old laundry chute,” Ira corrected.
Lilly stared, unamused.
“And…?” Peter said.
“And, we can probably use this to explore the orphanage!” Ira said. “Think about it. There’re only maybe thirty-two kids here and we share bedrooms. There’s no way we’ve seen this entire place!”
“Yes!” Peter’s eyes were glowing balls of light.
“No,” said Lilly. “What do you think will happen if you’re caught? You’ll get in big trouble. And it won’t just be toilet duty this time.”
“Lilly,” Ira sighed, “This is going to be fun, and we won’t get caught.”
“Yeah,” Peter added, “how could we get caught? No one will know where to look for us, right?”
“Right,” Ira agreed.
Lilly folded her arms.
“Let’s go!” Peter struggled to lift himself into the laundry chute. Ira grabbed Peter’s legs and pushed until he popped through the little doorway. Two stiff ropes ran from openings in the top and bottom of the booth.
“I messed around with these last night,” Ira eyed the ropes.
“You snuck out of bed?” Lilly said, exasperated.
Ira ignored Lilly’s question, hoping it was rhetorical. “The rope on the left raises the compartment when you pull it. The other one lowers it. Let’s see what’s at the very top! Peter, go up as high as you can. Then get out and lower it back to us – we’ll be right behind you.”
“No, we won’t,” said Lilly.
Peter disappeared upward through the shaft. Moments later the squeaky vessel returned empty.
“Come on, Lilly!” Ira offered his hand.
“This is a horrible idea,” Lilly said, pushing Ira’s hand away and climbing in. She sat against the wall with her arms crossed. “I’m only coming to make sure you two don’t do anything stupid or get yourselves caught.”
“Fair enough,” Ira joined her and raised the wooden chamber.
#
The laundry chute door opened to a mess of rickety scaffolding and pink insulation. Flakes of dust danced in the sunlight pouring through a round elevated window. Ira climbed out, avoiding broken pieces of wood.
“I’m waiting here,” said Lilly.
Ira gave her a dull face.
“Look, you can see a hallway through the floorboards!” Peter’s face was pressed against the ground, his behind raised in the air.
Ira joined Peter excitedly. Crawling on their hands and knees, the two followed the hallway through gaps in the floor.
“That slimy old snake!” Ira pushed his face closer to the cracks.
“Who? What?” Peter wiggled next to Ira.
A pot roast smothered in gravy sat amidst several steaming side dishes. Gowerly and Crude were stuffing their faces like two hungry pigs.
“I can’t believe this!” Ira whispered. “They get to have a feast while we eat dog food?”
“Ohhhh… that smells soooo good.”
“Don’t be seduced, Peter. We don’t need their crummy food.”
“I’d take a crumb.”
“Lilly, come look at this!” said Ira.
No response.
“Lilly?” Ira repeated.
His sister stood in silence before a pile of dusty cardboard boxes. One box’s faded label read Lilly and Ira.
“What the heck?” Ira reread the names, doubting his own eyes.
“What is it?” Peter approached behind the twins.
“That box has our names on it,” Lilly pointed.
“Weird.” Peter wiped the dust from several other labels. Each box featured the name of an orphan at Gowerly and Crude’s. “This one has my name on it. What do you think’s inside?”
“Probably our files,” Lilly shrugged, “But it doesn’t make sense for them to be all the way up here. Not really easy access, is it?”
“Only one way to find out what’s in them,” Peter slid his box from the pile and opened the lid. When he looked inside his face drooped in melancholy.
“You okay?” Ira asked, trying to sneak a peek inside Peter’s box.
“Yeah, I guess so.” Peter said, turning away.
He shoved a small stack of old polaroids into his pocket and removed a stuffed bear from the box. “You guys won’t tell anyone if I keep this, will you?” The matted bear had a missing eye, and the string that once formed its mouth hung loose below a chipped plastic nose.
“Of course we won’t,” Lilly offered a sincere smile.
“Thank you.”
Lilly and Ira turned to face the wall of cardboard. Cobwebs stretched and broke with a puff of dust as Ira removed their box. He sat across from Lilly and placed the open box between them.
Lilly took out two oxidized silver chain necklaces; dark stone pendants dangling from each. One was inscribed Lilly, the other Ira. She gave Ira the one bearing his name and held her own up in the dusty light.
“Where do you think they came from?” Ira inspected his necklace.
“They must have been ours when we were babies. From when we were…” Lilly’s voice wavered, “left here.”
Ira leaned in to remove the next – and last – object from the box. A book small enough to hold in one hand and couldn’t have housed more than one hundred pages. The cover, once likely a vibrant blue, was now sullied and timeworn. Ira’s finger muddled across the coarse surface just below silver lettering which read, The Practical Pocket Book of Spells.
***
Copyright © 2020 ~ Danny McMurray & Heather Alexander
