Old Mollie Chapter 1

Old Mollie

Chapter 1

Out in the rusty, black waters of the salt marshes that lay in the flood plains just inland from the long thorned gorse and the gray ocean, something dark twitches. Faint, slight, but alive, she was born of hate. A thing of ridicule, she remains long after the crime that created her has been forgotten. A shadow of violence, hiding in the reeds and cattails. A mongrel of scorn, cast out and left. They say her name is Old Mollie. Maybe I’m the only one that knows the truth.

He was screaming louder than the woman dying on the pavement in front of him. At least that’s the way I remember it. 1955 was a long time ago. The screaming and death didn’t matter. It was my turn to ride along with my dad in his tow truck and I was going to enjoy it. So I ate another handful of beer nuts, took a sip of Coke and turned the page of my comic. Waiting for the police or ambulance to show. Back then it was common for an accident call to go out and my dad, the tow truck driver, to be the first on the scene. Probably something to do with being a small town in a large county. So I did my best to ignore Mr. Homes' screaming. He was the high school history teacher and football coach, also a war hero and the town drunk. He took the wrong way home after practice and killed a family. It took them a while to die. That night was the first time I saw Old Mollie.

 She was a witch, or maybe she was a ghost, or a monster that lived out in the marshes outside of town. Every kid in the small town of Bandon, Oregon grew up hearing the stories.  “Don’t go out there, Old Mollie will get you.” At least that’s what the old timers would say. We all just figured it was yet another way adults were trying to steal fun from us kids.

Mr. Homes paced back and forth, screaming at my father that it wasn’t his fault. In the red glare of the taillights, I could see the arm of the young woman, her body half out of the black Oldsmobile Coup on the pavement reaching out for something. My dad went over to her. Mr. Homes grabbed my father and yanked him back. His story was all over the place. They were over the line. It was a blind curve. The sun was in his eyes. Anything other than he was drunk, as usual.

Finally, Dad had enough and pushed Homes completely out of the way. He quickly stepped over to the young woman. He reached out and grabbed her hand. She was shaking with fear and pain. It was the first time I saw my father be kind. Normally he was swearing and breaking things in his own booze filled rage, but with this strange woman, he was actually concerned, gentle even. In a way I was jealous. It made me feel weird to be jealous of a dying woman so I tried to go back to reading my comic book.

After all, that was the rule. I was too young to help like my brother. So if I came with dad on a call, I had to read my comic books.  That’s exactly what I was trying to do when I saw a dark thing move off to the side of the road. It darted around the brush so fast that I only caught it out of the corner of my eye. I glanced over expecting to see something like a lost doe or maybe even a bat flapping around.  When I looked, I saw nothing. I went back to reading. But something in my mind couldn’t leave it alone. The thought of it made my scalp itch. I reached up and scratched at my head. That’s when I saw it. I pushed myself back into the seat. Cold fear ran through me. It was just standing next to the road.  It wasn’t hiding. It just stood there looking at the wreck. 

Bathed in that awful red light, the figure of a woman stood there. Her thin black hair wafted about in the evening breeze. Her skin was like leather. It was a deep, dark, almost purple color. It wasn’t the skin of a living thing. It was stretched out over a frame that looked more like it was made of cobbled together driftwood, only approximating a skeleton. She seemed to be dressed in a housecoat. It was a dirty light gray color, tattered and ripped. Her teeth were bared in what looked like a lipless smile. And her eyes looked like small white rocks placed deep in her otherwise empty eye sockets.

I dropped my comic. I could feel this sick, sad feeling taking over my small body as I stared at this new beast I had found. I thought that the whole world must be seeing what I was looking at. It seemed too big to be something that only I was able to see. But in truth, I was too terrified to take my eyes off it to know what anybody else was doing. And then, it took an awkward almost stumbling step toward the car. 

Fearing she was coming for me, I pushed myself back even harder. So hard I felt a spring pop in the seat. I didn’t dare move. My every muscle locked, rigid in terror. I hoped she wouldn't see me. She turned her head and glared right into my eyes. Old Mollie put her finger up to her mouth and hushed me even though I was barely even breathing. Then as if by magic, the whole world fell silent. I could hear blood rushing in my head, but nothing else. My father, Mr. Homes, the dying woman, the whole damn world was struck mute. 

Old Mollie took another step. It was a jagged thrust. It wasn’t the move of a person, or even an animal. It lacked the fluidity of muscle and bone, but the result of forceful intent alone. She stepped to the upside-down door of the young family’s car and with long fingers wrapped them around the door handle. She pulled the smashed door open effortlessly. She knelt down and reached inside. She gently lifted a child out of the car. 

That’s what the dying woman was screaming about. She needed to know if her daughter had survived. My father didn’t know she was there, hadn’t even looked. Mr. Homes hadn’t given him the time.

Old Mollie stood to her feet once more. The toddler awoke.  The girl lifted her head up out of her blanket. Her tiny hands pulled herself up on the creature’s dress. I expected the child to scream. She didn’t. She smiled. The creature pointed a fingertip out in front of the little girl’s nose. The child grasped it with both hands and laughed. The creature pulled her hand free from the child and waved gently at me, as it turned back toward the salt marsh. It stepped off the road and out into the darkness. I heard the splashing as Old Mollie stepped into the water.

Suddenly the world became thunderously loud. I could hear Mr. Homes scream, “She’s not dead! No, she isn’t dead. No!”

“Wait for the ambulance!” Dad shouted at him.

I screamed.

My dad ran toward me. “Ritchie! Did you see a baby?!” 

I nodded hard. He ran to the back door of the overturned car, finding it open. Frantically, he looked for the child. Not finding the girl, he ran back to where I was sitting.

“Did you see the little girl?!” Dad shouted again.

I nodded my head yes violently and pointed out into the march. My dad gave chase.