New Flash Fiction: An Absence of Children

Today's story – An Absence of Children by Nick Manzolillo – offers an eerie slice of American Gothic folk horror reminiscent of Ray Bradbury. As for our contributor, Nick Manzolillo is a content operations specialist for the news app TopBuzz, and recently received his MFA in Creative and Professional Writing from Western Connecticut State University. His writing has appeared in over thirty publications including Thuglit: Last Writes, Monday's Are Murder, Lovecraftiana and the Tales To Terrify podcast. He lives in Manhattan with his girlfriend. You can follow him on Twitter at https://twitter.com/Manzi24


An Absence of Children
by Nick Manzolillo
 

One child missing is a tragedy.

Two children missing is a coincidence.

Three children missing becomes a crisis.

Four children missing means the rural town of Badgewater gets help from the FBI.

Five children missing ushers in a curfew and Claire, the teenage sister of the first, takes matters into her own hands while the detectives and trackers flounder about, uselessly.

Six children missing causes Claire to begin crying in the middle of her brother’s bedroom, while studying his assortment of knickknacks found in the forest; woodchips shaped like birds, mineral flaked rocks and a musical pipe shrouded in moss.

Seven children missing means the FBI hauls in every potential suspect, no matter how flimsy the evidence; from parents to recent parolees, bus drivers, teachers and bums.

Eight children missing means the local school is closed, the library shuttered, a local lake dragged and the gate around the park and playground, locked.

Nine children are missing when Claire sneaks out, having discovered one of her brother’s drawings that to her desperate mind may very well be a map; to a special place, tucked away in the forest.

Nine children and a teenage girl, are reported missing, which means the national guard is called in turning Badgewater into a vortex of chaos and confusion, resulting in local trapper Neil Fischer fleeing to the forest to seek solitude.

Ten children and a teenage girl are reported missing by the time Fischer hears the eerie piping of a flute in the wind from his campsite. He spots a child walking through the woods, barefoot, eyes wide and a smile plastered over his lips. Fischer follows the child, who in turn follows the piping.

Ten children, a teenage girl and a local trapper are reported missing.

The eleventh and twelfth child are reported missing while eight-year-old Daisy, the twelfth, follows her twin brother, the eleventh, into the woods where he often plays. He woke up in the middle of the night and left, without speaking to her, as if in a trance. She follows him through the woods, to a clearing choked by tall grass. Before them lay the remnants of an old carnival several search parties have combed over to no avail. Among the ruins of con games, a swing set and what may have been a small train, there is a carousel, its horses, tigers, wolves, unicorns and bears mutated by rust. The animals’ painted grins have become snarls. In the center of the carousel, looping gently between the poles and carriages, something hooded in a cloak of leaves plays a pipe while Daisy’s brother boards the ride.

Standing back, hidden among the tall grass, Daisy watches as the ancient carousel begins to spin, brought to life by the hooded one’s melody. Slowly, with her brother as the sole rider alongside the piper weaving through the platform, the carousel completes three revolutions. The empty seats become full. The trapper, an older girl and ten other children appear, each riding a beast of their own, their faces brimming with delight. In a series of ugly, off key musical notes, the carousel completes another revolution and its riders vanish. The wolf Daisy’s brother road upon becomes once more passenger-less, hungry, the rust in its eyes begging her to climb aboard. The hooded piper of dead leaves, its instrument silent, stares at Daisy, twitching, before she runs away.

The twelfth missing child is found. Upon hearing Daisy’s story, law enforcement flock to the remnants of the carnival. No clues are discovered. Guards are set up. Rangers prowl the woods. Weeks go by and while no more children go missing, none are found. Daisy tells her story about the carousel that’s been eating people over and over. Nobody believes her. Eventually, a couple locals with too much time on their hands haul off the carnival scraps piece by piece. At a junkyard two towns over, the carousel is sold to a wealthy buyer, eager to refurbish the machinery as quickly as possible.

Thirteen people remain missing. Somewhere in the world, a song carries through the empty places, waiting for a child to listen and come feed the empty things.