Some Can Hear the Dark

Chapter One

Julia Hunt was forty-seven years old, aging well, and would, as most people would think--live another forty-seven. She stood, her brown hair in a bun, her wrinkles obvious but her face very sturdy, in the garden of Greg Newman's house. The house was, supposedly, rented month after month by the Newman's family, and was where Julia would live for the next two days, looking over a bunch of damn rascals. She was okay with looking over a bunch of damn rascals, in fact, it was her job--babysitting. 

Whoever put a house like this up for rent must be rich, she thought. Must be pretty damn rich. Must have owned a giant pot farm and made a million. Must have scammed the government.

The house was huge, a mansion, with stunning architecture, a garden, and a small pool. The house was Tudor style, complete with a giant door entrance and two lion statues guarding it. I'll find joy in living in this luxury for two days, she thought, yes, I surely will. 

"What am I getting payed again?" she asked, for the second time that day.

"$500. Nothing if they die while  your taking care of them." said Agatha Newman, in her best attempt at good humor. The joke wasn't very funny. "Are you a good cook?"

"Sure." Julia had hardly ever used a microwave in her life, and would always cook a quality feast.

"They will take whatever you give them. Sure, they may be young, but they are very adventurous eaters. They are quite mature kids actually, sleep with the light off, can stay alone for short periods of time... etc. They like going outdoors, so be sure to plan a bunch of activities for them. Do you have any bad habits?"

"I used to smoke. Not anymore."

"And you won't smoke in front of Violet or Ollie?"

"Course not."

"Okay then." Agatha managed a warm smile. "I think your going to do just fine with my kids, Julia, just fine."

Agatha Newman and her last husband, Jake Houston, had recently divorced. With Jake had Agatha born her two kids, Oliver Newman and Violet Newman. Quite recently she had married  Greg, and he was a good husband to her. Today they would leave for their honeymoon. This was what Julia had been told. 

Agatha walked towards the house. "Come with me."

For the next hour or so Agatha showed Julia around the house, showing her all the many rooms and stairs and hallways and tables.

"And this is O.  and V.'s room, right o'er here."

In the two bed bedroom, Oliver and Violet Newman sat on the floor, playing with toy trucks. "Ollie, Violet, this is your babysitter." Agatha said, pointing at Julia. 

"Hi, my name is Julia." The kids stood up. Julia put out her hand. Violet gave her a light handshake, and then Oliver grabbed her outstretched hand. Oliver grabbed her hand with a hard, very strong grip, and brought it up and down, up and down. He shook her hand very violently, and kept shaking. 

"Ollie, stop!" yelled Agatha.

Oliver released his grip, and sat back down on the floor. He went back to playing with his toys. "Ollie what was that for? Ollie?!" 

Oliver didn't answer. Oliver was silent, and continued to play with his toy truck. 

Agatha frowned. "Oliver, apologize to Mrs. Julia, right now!" Oliver didn't move, just kept playing with his toys. "Oliver, what in the world was that for?!" 

How the young child had grabbed her arm with such strength, Julia couldn't possibly imagine. He had just seized her hand... And, why had he?

Agatha escorted Julia out of the room. "I'm sorry, the kids are usually not like this. Usually not like this at all. I don't have any idea why my little boy would do that. Today they are in a bad mood, I think. They are usually the sweetest little guys... I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I don't know what got into them, really, they are great kids... I hope you will be able to handle them while I'm gone, won't you?"

Julia laughed, a short, little laugh. "I've dealt with worse, believe me. I'm sure their fine. I'm good with kids." They walked down a floor to the kitchen.

The Newman family was full of black hair, Julia noticed. Even Greg had black hair. One big family of dark black scalps. 

Julia was not worried about the next two days, not worried at all. One time she had babysat a child with a bad past. He had completely freaked out when she turned off the lights in his bedroom. "STOP RIGHT WHERE YOU ARE!" he had said in a complete trance: "STOP--GET AWAY! GET AWAY!" He repeated those two words again and again, get away. His previous father had heavily abused him in the dark. He always needed the light on.

But she had done just fine with him, and knew these children would be no harder than that child--Charlie had been his name. 

The one thing she didn't like much about the whole job was the family--Agatha, in particular. Agatha didn't seem to her like such a nice folk, she seemed too much like a person who can only attempt to make people feel comfortable--or something. Julia had strange vibes from Agatha. And Greg--well, she hadn't really met Greg yet. That man, Greg, had always been working somewhere or other around the house, in the corner of her eye, never greeting her or saying hello to her. 

She was deep into thought when Agatha asked her a pointed question. They were seated at the dining table down by the kitchen, talking and conversing. "Julia." she said, "Are you married?"

Julia sighed. "Once was. Divorced a few years back. Rather a long story..." she said. "Hated that man. Hated him. He was the kind of procrastinator who always wanted to be successful but never got off the TV. Always watching something or other, relaxing... He was a lazy, arrogant snob, that man was. I may never marry again because of my experience with that man. And on our first date, he had said many phrases that utterly charmed me, things like," Julia cleared her throat and continued, in  voice apparently impersonating that of her former husbands, "'When we marry I'll take you to places far and wide. We'll go on an adventure, you and me.' Or he'd say,  'Your just my destiny, you are. You and I, we'll do great things together.' And the real reason he wanted us to marry was for the--the..." Julia was in tears. "He was a bad man, a liar, a rascal, someone whom you could not trust a word that was omitted... My husband... he had been... a bastard." This last word Julia said in a low, low voice. She had been raised in a household that demanded good manners, and had frowned on cursing.

"I'm sorry I ever asked." Agatha said. "Sorry I ever asked." There was a faraway look in her eyes, as if she saw green hills in the distance and was trying to make out a dot she thought was a man on them. Agatha handed Julia a hanker-chief. 

"I hope you find happiness in your husband, Agatha, I really hope you do."

Somewhere in the world a moon rises, somewhere in the world the night begins. Somewhere in the world the sky is grim. A bat might fly, or a crow might caw. 

In a  few days, Agatha would be found dead, her body mutilated. In a few days the sky would be dark, a moon rising.