Sleeping Beauty #2

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Sleeping Beauty

(excerpt)
After dinner Mrs. Little sat down in the kitchen to brush out her daughter’s hair. She tried to remember if her hair had been as soft and whether her mother had ever dragged a brush through her curls.
“Ouch!” Stella cried.
“I’m sorry, dear!” Mrs. Little replied. “You’ve got a lot of tangles in your hair this evening. Were you up on the roof again? You know I don’t like you up there by yourself.”
Stella sighed impatiently. “No, mother, I was not up on the roof! But, I don’t see the harm of it anyway. It’s just another of those silly old wives tales. It’s not dangerous.”
Stella was silent as Mrs. Little continued combing her daughter’s hair. After a few minutes Stella spoke.
“I saw lights in the apartment.”
“It’s been rented,” her mother replied. “I don’t want you going over and bothering the tenant. She’s a queer sort with a lost melancholy look in her eyes. That kind of thing can rub off on a young girl.”
 “She must be queer if she rented that old place. Where is she from?”
“I don’t know,” Mrs. Little replied.
“We don’t get many visitors in the village, do we mother?” Mrs. Little shook her head. “No, dear.”
“Why is that, mother?”
“I don’t know, dear. You’ll have to ask someone wiser than me for that answer.”
Stella bit down on her lip. “Why do you say that she is a queer sort, mother?”
Mrs. Little chuckled. “You certainly have a lot of questions tonight, dear. I suppose it’s the look in her eyes. She looks like someone who is not fully with us.
“Crazy!” Stella cried.
“I wouldn’t go that far, dear.”
“What’s her name?”
Mrs. Little was silent. Her daughter repeated her question.
“I didn’t ask,” Mrs. Little replied.
Mr. Little came into the kitchen, kissed his wife and daughter goodnight, turned and trudged up the stairs to their bedroom.
“I’ll be up soon, dear,” Mrs. Little replied.
 When Mrs. Little had finished combing her daughter’s hair, she instructed her daughter that it was her bedtime as well. After a mild protest, Stella obeyed her mother. After she had finished cleaning up the dishes, and checking out the rest of the house to make sure all the lights were out, Mrs. Little returned to the darkened kitchen. Taking a key that hung from a string around her neck, she unlocked the door that led to the basement. She descended the stairs. When she reached the bottom of the steps she reached into the darkness and whispered,
There was a grunt. A huge hand reached out and gently grasped hers. She turned and led a huge dark figure up the stairs, through the kitchen and out the back door. Outside the huge figure stood up and stretched. Mrs. Little looked up at the hideous features of her son’s face outlined by the moonlight.
“Behave yourself, Ben,” she said. “And make sure you’re back before the sun rises. I’ll be here to let you in.”
With this the giant called Ben grunted and slouched off. Mrs. Little watched her son dissolve into the darkness.