Rosemary's Kindness

Rosemary remembered the first time she saw the boy. His chestnut hair so glossy was half hidden under a bleach blonde wig. He was hunched over with a big hump on his back. That Halloween he had dressed as Quasimodo. He had stood on her porch and politely knocked. Rosemary thought he could not have been more than seven years old and in her opinion seven was way too young to be out alone.

“Come in,” she had said and encouraged the boy to enter her home.

It had not been until after, when she had spoken with her daughter about the strange visitor that Rosemary had realized what she had instinctively done could have been considered wrong.

“Mum!” her daughter Christine had exclaimed from the other side of the phone.

“What? What did I do?”

“Mum, he could have been dangerous?”

“Chrissy he was but a lost and lonely child,” Rosemary replied.

“Mum! You need to be more careful!”

Rosemary thought it strange the child that night had shuffled in. Silently he sat, eating the cookies that Rosemary offered him. No one came to collect the child; no one seemed to miss him. At the stroke of midnight as the great grandfather clock in Rosemary’s hall tolled the hour the boy had gotten up and whispered his thanks. Straight out the door, leaving behind one wrapped candy from his pumpkin shaped bucket. It was a caramel éclair, Rosemary’s favorite.

The second year was even stranger. Again the child appeared alone. Tap, tap, tap went his little hand on Rosemary’s front door. This time he was dressed as a dragon or some other such scaly beast. Again there was a great bump around the young child’s shoulders and back. Again the child was happy enough to just quietly sit and eat. That time it had been Rosemary’s famous banana bread, fresh out the oven. Rosemary had offered to call for someone to come and collect the boy but he shook his head. He gave a soft smile. Again the clock struck twelve in the booming way it announced each hour. Again it was during that time of tolling the boy rose from his seat and made his way back out into the dark night. Once more Rosemary’s favorite sweet sat waiting for her upon the seat where the dragon had been. It was the only evidence she had kept company with a visitor. That and of course the plate with cake crumbs upon it.

The third year Rosemary discovered the boy dressed as a robot. The costume was made from old cardboard boxes and spray painted a plain grey. Although the boxes over the arms and legs and feet had been small and thin the box that made up the body was quite large and seemed to extend unusually on the child’s back. Rosemary initially thought it possible the child wore something heavy across his shoulders but then she dismissed such a thought as hostess instincts kicked in. That year had been a sweet pumpkin pie. Orange had splattered the boy’s costume right down the front as his arms had made eating difficult and the boy’s clumsiness had made him spill.

“Allow me,” Rosemary had offered and happily the boy opened his mouth.

Just as happily Rosemary had spooned that pie right on in.

They had been half way through a second helping when midnight ticked around.

The booming of the old grandfather clock had surprised Rosemary and she had dropped the plate of pumpkin pie.

As she had sucked and chewed on that éclair Rosemary remembered scrubbing the carpet, trying to lift the orange stains before they had any chance to set in. Sadly she had been no longer as young as she once was and the effort was too much. The stains remained a reminder of a Halloween past.

In the ten years of Halloweens since the first time that the boy had appeared Rosemary could only recall one such time her little visitor never showed. That year she had been saddened, missing her strange, often silent visitor. She had also missed that little sweet treat the boy always left behind. That year when the grandfather clock had boomed the toll of twelve Rosemary had surprised herself by shedding a single, solitary tear. Happily Rosemary had discovered the year that followed there had been that quiet little tap, tap, tap that announced the arrival of her tiny friend.

This year, the eleventh Rosemary had been unsure. Would the little boy arrive? If so what would he wear? She had stopped telling her daughter about her visitor after the third year. That had been the year Chrissy had made her mum wonder where it was the boy had come from and to whence he went after that midnight hour. As Rosemary busied herself in the kitchen she considered calling her daughter and again bringing up the topic of the little boy. When Rosemary lifted the phone to her ear though she heard the tap, tap, tap upon her door and the call to Chrissy was forgotten.

“You’re here!” Rosemary announced with glee.

This year the boy had dressed all in white. His chestnut mop had been dusted to almost look grey and his skin was pale, unnaturally white.

“What a beautiful little ghost you make!” Rosemary chortled, she made a mental note she’d need to mention such to Christine when she rang the next day.

As the boy sat in his usual spot Rosemary considered what she had left going in the kitchen. It would be over done by now, ruined by distraction.

“I’ll fetch us some cookies,” the elder suggested.

To this the young boy shook his head.

“No need,” he whispered as he struggled with his costume.

Rosemary’s eyes grew big as the boy revealed the nature of his lump.

From what seemed like a disfigurement came two great wings with feathers golden, the pair unfurled in Rosemary’s sitting room.

 “You have been kind to me, a true friend,” announced the boy.

“Oh my,” breathed Rosemary.

“I have come to take you from this world!” the boy continued.

“To heaven?” stated Rosemary is disbelief.

The boy nodded.

“Indeed… I’m to escort you to the land of éclairs…”