E. L. Maloney
Content Warning: mention of paedophilia, murder, monster
Baby pink. Pale blue. Dirt red.
Melanie sits on the sidewalk, sucking on the lollipop that should’ve tasted like cotton candy, but salty, metallic liquid sits on her tongue. Her white booties meet the ground flat, the outsoles hidden.
The door to Mr Lamb’s Candy Store swings open again, the tinkle of the golden bell falling out onto the street. Melanie turns, her baby pink dress wrinkling as she twists to see behind her. White slacks tower upwards to a mint green blouse, accompanied by pasty skin and a greying beard. Mr Lamb smiles down at Melanie with soft green eyes, hands behind his back.
‘Is Mother nearby, small one?’ he asks.
She shakes her head.
‘What about Father?’ Mr Lamb looks up and down the street, automobiles travelling past leisurely. ‘Surely he will arrive soon?’
Melanie continues to stare at Mr Lamb, then draws the lollipop out of her mouth slowly. She licks her lips before pursing them shut. Rolling the plastic stick between her finger and thumb.
‘Well, now, you can’t be out here late, small one,’ he tsks, his hands appearing from behind his blouse. ‘Why don’t you wait inside for a little while? I’m sure a parent of yours will come along soon enough. No one would want to lose a beautiful daughter like you.’
She stares at the hand he extends, callouses on his knuckles. Without saying a word, she takes his hand, allowing him to pull her up from the gutter. Flushing a small smile, she pops the lollipop back inside her mouth, staring at the ground. Mr Lamb chuckles.
‘You’ve been out here a while, sweet one. Did Mother give you a nickel to buy the candy this morning? Or maybe Father?’ He stops for a moment, pondering. ‘Or perhaps a nanny? Your dress looks like the work of Madame Papillon. Those are worth quite a penny, small one. But what nanny would let their child come to Mr Lamb’s Candy Store all lonesome?’
Melanie meets his eyes again without lifting her chin. With her petite fingers, she draws the candy out of her mouth again.
‘So many queries to surround such a little girl. Come now, inside, so you don’t catch a chill,’ Mr Lamb requests with a soft tone, stepping into the building to prop the door open.
With the candy between her lips again, Melanie brushes the dirt of the sidewalk off her dress, caressing the wrinkles until the material becomes smooth. Before stepping inside, though, she returns Mr Lamb’s kindly smile.
‘May I ask your age, sweet one?’ he asks as she comes to a stop a few steps before the aisles of sweetness.
She doesn’t respond.
‘Are you seven, hmm?’ Mr Lamb shuts the door. ‘Eight, perhaps?’ He flips the open sign over, the plastic slapping the back of the door.
Mr Lamb is met with silence.
‘Not one for speaking, hmm? Oh, sweet, small one. It would be helpful if you could tell me something. Maybe even your name?’
She turns, her eyes flitting from the pale blue tiles up to his face.
‘My granddaughter, who’s even smaller than you, loves to talk. Sometimes she talks for hours, right before she passes out in the middle of her sentence,’ he chuckles. ‘A sweet, small thing.’
Melanie blinks at him plainly, pulling out an empty plastic stick.
Mr Lamb cocks his head to the side, the same smile plastered on his face. ‘All finished? Just place the rubbish in the bin,’ he says, gesturing to the little silver can beside the counter.
Melanie politely inches towards it, lifting the lid to drop it inside. She turns back to Mr Lamb.
‘Why don’t you find another piece of candy while we wait? You can take anything you want,’ he offers.
The small girl smiles, and he nods, motioning for her to go wander the store. Melanie disappears down an aisle, the baby pink skirt catching on the edge of a shelf. She’s too short to see over any of the aisles, and too small to be seen by Mr Lamb.
Smiling to himself, he begins to hum in the back of his throat. Pulling a key out of his pocket, he locks the door, faking a sneeze as the mechanism clicks. Moving away from the door, he slides behind the counter. A jar of candy sits beside the cashier, each piece wrapped individually. Popping open the jar, Mr Lamb takes one into his palm before securing the lid back on tightly.
‘Oh, small one!’ he calls out, moving out from the counter. ‘I just found my special candy! I thought I had lost it. It’s the best-tasting treat in my entire store. Would you like to have one? Special girls like you deserve to have special treats!’
For a moment, there’s no movement around the opening of the shelves.
Mr Lamb steps closer to the aisles. ‘Small one?’
Melanie steps out from between the aisle flanked against the left wall of the shop. There isn’t any candy in her hands. She approaches Mr Lamb with a skip in her step and a smile decorating her petite face. He places the candy in her palm and watches as she removes the wrap, setting it on her tongue.
‘Now, how about I set about phoning your parents? Do you have a number on you perchance?’ Mr Lamb turns his back to Melanie, reaching for an empty space on the counter. ‘Or shall I phone the police? I’m sure they can help get you home.’
Melanie quietly takes the candy out of her mouth, dropping it into the pocket of her dress. She pulls her hands behind her, imitating the sucking sound of the candy in her throat. Mr Lamb turns around.
‘How about we wait in my private room? I have some cushions and toys in there for any small ones who get lost,’ he suggests, taking her wrist with stiff fingers. ‘Come now.’
Even though he tugs her, she doesn’t move. Even though he wants to get to his private room, Melanie doesn’t let him.
He turns back to her, frowning. ‘Something wrong, small one? I only wish to help.’
She blinks back at him blankly, pretending to swallow the candy that isn’t there.
His face softens. ‘Come now, you must be feeling exhausted. You can have a little nap.’ Mr Lamb kneels down, so he’s at level with her. ‘And your dress must be feeling quite heavy, quite itchy, now, isn’t it?’
For a moment, Melanie continues to stare. But then, just once, she nods.
A smile broadens across his face as their hands slip apart. Mr Lamb’s fingers trail to the edges of her dress, lifting the material up slowly. He watches her for any changes in her face, but she has nothing but the same blank look as before.
Bunching the skirt in one hand, Mr Lamb carefully places his other hand on her now bare stomach. ‘I’m sure your stockings are feeling too tight now, aren’t they? Shall they come off too?’
He doesn’t wait this time for her to nod, eyes dropping to watch his own movements. Cold fingers trace the line of her stockings at her belly. Then he begins to slip them down, just a little bit. He looks back at Melanie. A frown digs into his brow.
‘Small one? Are you all right?’
Melanie’s expression has gone dark, her irises expanding to swallow her whole eye. Her lips split across her face, reaching from cheek bone to cheek bone, teeth jutting out, blood spilling down her chin.
Mr Lamb falls to the ground, yelling out as his elbows smack against the tiles.
She smiles.
‘Wh-what is this?’ The fear in his eyes makes her ravenous.
The small one blinks once. Twice, a clicking sound spilling out from the back of her throat as she slowly opens her mouth. Mr Lamb screams as her jaw unhinges, not even seeing the black, knife-like fingers that break through the seemingly baby-smooth skin he was touching only just a moment ago.
Finally, full on the vile man’s terror, she leaps towards him as he does his best to scramble away. With every second that ticks past, she digs her fingers into his chest, sinking her teeth into his face and neck.
Splintering bones, cracking ribs. Dirt red blood in her nose, streaking down her cheeks. Trickling down the wall. Pooling on the floor. Chunks. Torn flesh clumping together. Muscle caked in her nail beds. A corset of bones exposed.
*
Melanie sits with a small cup in her hands, waving it at passers-by, the church looming behind her. They toss a few coins into her cup as they pass, not many. But she has no need for coin.
‘Are you safe, little girl?’
She turns, looking up at the man dressed in robes, and blinks once.
E. L. “Loricia” Maloney (she/her) is a high fantasy novelist currently working on her hopeful debut. She aims to bring a balance to characterisation, plot, and worldbuilding in the epic fantasy genre. You can find her on Instagram and TikTok by @loriciawrites_ for daily content.
Inspired by childhood classics such as Shirley Barber, Monster High Dolls, and Sailor Moon, Erin McKenna (she/her) aims to create whimsical, ethereal, and uncanny contemporary artwork. She mainly works in a digital space and discusses her personal experiences with mental and physical health, sexuality and liberation, and her relationship with her body.
Instagram: @erinxisobel