Unquestionably Questionable

Copyright © 2016; Jessica Holt

The child was unquestionably questionable. Everyone who knew her knew that. Yet no one who knew her really knew her at all.

The Creator who created her created her well. She possessed all the basics. Two eyes, two ears, a nose, a mouth, two arms, two legs, two hands, two feet, ten fingers, ten toes, and a trunk to hold them all in place.

Yet her basics weren’t so basic. She was perfectly symmetrical, which, contrary to common belief, is not so common. Her milky-white skin was flawless. No birthmarks, no moles, not even a man-made bump or bruise. To touch her was like touching porcelain. Constantly cool even on the warmest of days, and smooth as the smoothest silk.

Inside her perfectly symmetrical eye sockets were two perfectly symmetrical eyes. In the center of those two perfectly symmetrical eyes were two perfectly symmetrical irises. They were baby blue, and their color was constant, never dependent on her daily attire.

Below her two perfectly symmetrical eyes and a symmetrically-centered nose were two perfectly placed lips. She was much too little for lipstick, but her Creator had created her lips in such a way that lipstick would never be necessary. Salmon is the normal shade of lips in their natural state, but scarlet was the only shade her lips had ever shown.

On top of the head that held the perfectly placed lips, the symmetrically-centered nose, and the two perfectly symmetrical eyes was a halo of hair, and it was as blond as blond can be. The bottom of her bangs brushed the peaks of her eyebrows, and the remainder rested right underneath her ears.

Her eyes opened at exactly 7:00 AM every morning and blinked exactly 8400 times before closing at exactly 9:00 PM every night. Her lips never curled up, never curled down, and never separated, except to take five bites of breakfast, eleven bites of lunch, and a dozen bites of dinner every day.

Her movable parts all moved. She wasn’t deaf, as evidenced by her ability to move all of her movable parts on command, and she wasn’t blind because she moved those movable parts without bumping into that which could be bumped into.

Not only were her outsides odd, her insides were also. Her beating heart beat exactly sixty beats per minute, never more, never less. And within each minute, she inhaled and exhaled exactly eleven times. Her voice box was capable of voicing a voice, but no sound had ever sounded from it.

To the possessors of the ever-present eyes that eyeballed the girl, she was most mysterious. The only indication that she was a living being was the slow rise and fall of her chest and the occasional blink that for a brief moment covered her baby blues.

Heaven really was quite heavenly. At its center was Central Street, stretching from one end of Heaven to the other. If one began at the beginning of Heaven and traveled in a straight line down Central Street, one could tour the entire town in ten minutes if traveling by automobile.

The first mile of Heaven was identical to the last. On either side of Central Street was a curb, sixteen inches of sod, a sidewalk, and six additional feet of sod, all leading to a cookie cutter cottage.

Each cookie cutter cottage stood nine feet from the next. At twenty-two feet wide, a total of sixty-eight cottages lined each side of Central Street, totaling one hundred thirty-six residences in the entire town.

Each residence rose fourteen feet off the ground. A twenty-two foot wide porch spanned the twenty-two foot wide front wall of each residence. Two wide windows were on either side of an even wider door.

Each of the one hundred thirty-six residences was painted a particular color, and each color was unique. Soft Sapphire and Sparkling Cerulean may be similar, but they are certainly not the same.  

One to two residents resided in each residence, with an average of two hundred inhabitants of Heaven at any given time.

After one passed sixty-eight uniquely colored cottages, one would reach the center of Central Street. Central Street continued to the right and left, forming a diamond before returning to its straight path. Ten attached two-story buildings lined each side of the diamond. Situated on the right side were the post office, the bank, the doctor’s office, the dentist’s office, the courthouse, the funeral home, the repair shop, the flower shop, the mechanic’s shop, and the gas station. Situated on the left side were the soda shop, the market, the diner, the furniture store, the clothing store, the general store, the single-screen cinema, the ice cream parlor, and the eleven-lane bowling alley.

In the center of the diamond, surrounded by a garden, was the Christian Church of Christ. It was bigger than any other building in Heaven, as almost all two hundred inhabitants of Heaven entered the church every single Sunday.

Every Heavenite worked in Heaven, except for those who had retired after reaching retirement age. Retired residents spent their time tending their tulips, watering their wildflowers, cultivating their crops, and reading their reading materials.

One particularly peculiar retired resident was Polly Priestly. Her short stature was shorter than all the other hers in Heaven, aside from the child, of course. Her wide width was wider than any other Heavenly woman. Her white ringlets wound quite close to her head. Her age was old, but her beauty was still breathtaking.

She resided in house number thirty-three, its color timeless turquoise. Turquoise tulips lined her lawn. Tomato was the only crop she chose to cultivate.

One morning in early autumn as Polly Priestly was making her way home from the market she came upon the most peculiar sight she’d ever seen. A half-sized human figure was crumpled along the curb. Polly peered down at the perfectly pristine pint-sized person with puzzlement. She was most-surely a she, simply wearing a simple sundress with tiny toes sticking out of strappy sandals.

Two baby blues blinked blankly, the half-sized human staring beyond where Polly stood. Polly struggled to see what the small stranger was staring at, but she saw nothing but a normal Heaven.

“Morning,” said Polly as politely as possible.

The petite person made no movement.

Polly reached with her right arm and tenderly touched the smooth skin crumpled on the curb.

After no acknowledgment, Polly placed her basket on the sidewalk and scooped the crumpled being from the curb, elongating her as she lifted.

Once uncrumpled and elongated, she was not very long. Her limbs hung loosely from her little limp form. Her blinking baby blues shifted to the sidewalk and stayed there.

Polly had never seen such a sight. A perfectly proportioned human, yet less than half the size of all other humans in Heaven.

I’ve come across something seriously strange, Polly thought to herself. I must seek suggestions.

Polly set the stranger inside her basket and turned back toward Central Street, backtracking to Dr. Dunn’s doctor’s office.

Dr. Dunn examined every inch of the little life stretched out in front of him on the examining table.

“I haven’t seen such a sight in seventeen seasons,” he exclaimed, ending his examination.

“What did you determine, Doctor?”

“Polly Priestly, you brought a baby in your basket.”

Polly placed her pupils on the tiny person on the table. “A baby?” She barely whispered the word. Babies weren’t born in Heaven. Babies didn’t belong in Heaven.

“This tot looks to be two, possibly three,” Dr. Dunn disclosed to Polly.

“How on earth did it enter Heaven?” Polly proclaimed.

“I can’t offer a conclusion.”

“What do you advise I do?”

“I advise you take the tot to your cottage, cook her something creamy, comfort her if she cries, and sing her to sleep.”

“And after I’ve accomplished those instructions?”

“Repeat until she is returned to her rightful residence.”

Polly carried the creature to her cottage. She set her on a stool while she cooked a cup of creamed corn. She spooned out a spoonful and slipped it between the babe’s lips. For a minuscule moment, Polly feared that the child would choke. But then, the child began to chew. She swallowed seven spoonfuls before blocking a bite with her crimson colored lips.

Now, what next? Polly pondered. Comfort her cries.

But she didn’t shed a tear. The tiny tot sat on the stool and stared into space with her blinking baby blues.

Polly stared at the small stranger, while the small stranger stared into space. After what seemed to be an eternity, the baby’s blinks began lasting longer, indicating the need for a nap.

Polly slid her off of her stool and carried her to the couch, laying her little body beneath a blanket. She knelt next to her and softly sang a sweet song. Before long, the baby blinked one last blink and drifted into dreamland.

Days turned into weeks, weeks into a month, but no mother ever entered Heaven to retrieve her child.

Eight days after her arrival, Polly still had not gotten the tot to tell her her name.

I must call this stranger something, Polly thought, because while she was still strange, she was less of a stranger every day. I’ll call her…Caroline.

Each day was a repeat of the one before. Good morning, Caroline. Eat your eggs, Caroline. Take that tomato from the vine, Caroline. Come Caroline, we must make our trip to the market. Sit on this stool while I cook your corn, Caroline. One more big bite for Polly please. Something sweet being sung to sing her to sleep. Come sit with Polly, Caroline, while she completes her crossword. Dumplings for dinner, Caroline, with custard for dessert? Come baby, let’s get you in the bath. All clean, Caroline. Shall we sing one last song before bed, Caroline? Good night, Caroline.

The tiny tot did as she was told. She behaved beautifully, even while the preacher preached his lengthy sermons on Sunday, sitting silently beside Polly in the pew.

The possessors of the ever-present eyes that eyeballed the child all attended the Christian Church of Christ on Sunday. Their gaze was always on the girl, glancing away only if Polly caught their eye.

“From where did she arrive?” was the most common question, followed by “How long until she leaves?”

“I know not,” Polly would simply state, eagerly escorting an oblivious Caroline out of the Christian Church of Christ and accompanying her home.

Hale was next to Heaven, yet it was nothing like it. Twelve apartment buildings lined the two lane road that twisted through the town. Two hundred tenants lived in each of the identical buildings.  

The bottom floor of each building housed a business, but none were run by residents of Hale. Residents of neighboring neighborhoods—never Heaven—owned the buildings as well as the businesses at the bottom of them.

Humans came to live in Hale only when they had nowhere else to go. Most of these humans brought along with them a handful of half-sized humans, hoping for housing and health care and help with their hunger.

If tenants of Hale were fortunate enough to be employed, they weren’t employees of Hale. They boarded the only bus that bussed them to the neighboring neighborhoods every morning, spent the day doing whatever is was they did, and then boarded the same bus which dropped them off in Hale at the end of the day.

No cars occupied the streets of Hale. Only bicycles and baby buggies and the occasional bus ever bumped along Hale's boulevard.

Unlike Heaven, half-sized heathens made up the majority of Hale. From eighteen months to eighteen years, they ran aimlessly around Hale all day long, contributing nothing but snotty noses and croupy coughs. Those who were tinier than eighteen months bounced their days away in the baby buggies that their mothers marched up and down the town.

Once a week, a week's worth of food was brought to each building. It was then rationed out to each residence, based on how many residents lived in each residence.

The few men who lived in Hale made it their mission to escape, thinking nothing of leaving their women and children in Hale the minute they found adequate employment in a neighboring neighborhood. Needless to say, the bus that bussed tenants of Hale out in the morning was always more crowded than the bus that bussed them back in the evening.

There was no happiness in Hale, only heartache and hopelessness. The only hope came briefly when a boy child was born in Hale, that he might, eighteen years from that moment, escape.

But for at least eighteen years he would have to endure Hale, which halted all hope anyone ever had.

Lucy Littleton did not have luck on her side. She left her home in Hampton when by twenty years old she had two sets of twins and a singleton on the way. There were three different dads, none of whom were willing to do their daily daddy duties, and Lucy's parents no longer wanted to parent, either Lucy or the littlest Littletons.

So Lucy Littleton and her little ones had nowhere to go but Hale. She secured one studio apartment—which was all Hale offered—in building number six.

She received food for five every Friday, and if she was running out before the week was over, she wouldn't eat. That would normally be noble, feeding your children before yourself, but it was as though she would forget about the one in her womb.

She hoped beyond all hope that the baby was a boy. Because not only had Lucy been unlucky in the choosing of the fathers for her children, she had also been given only girls. Four little female Littletons, with no hope of ever leaving Hale.

Lauren and Lydia Littleton were two weeks shy of turning two when they first inhabited Hale. Their sisters, Lanie and Layla, were seventeen days short of seven months. And the baby that she hoped was a boy still had six months inside.

Six months later, Lucy got her first glance at the littlest Littleton. What lay before her was a beautiful baby girl.    

Lucy sobbed over the life that this little she would surely endure. As she cried, the creature in her arms began to coo, offering a brief moment of comfort for her mother. The sound was so soft and lovely, Lucy knew what she needed to name her.

And that's how the baby became Lyric.

Lucy was lucky enough to know the one way little girls left Hale. But it took a commitment and a courage that couldn't come quickly.

Lydia and Lauren were five, Layla and Lanie were four, and little Lyric was halfway to three before Lucy had all of Hale she could handle.  

Early one October morning she dressed her girls in their cleanest clothes and shiniest shoes and led all five of her little Littletons to the bus stop.

The other Haleyons sitting at the stop were astonished at the sight before them. It didn't happen often, but on the rarest of occasions the youngest inhabitants of Hale would be brought to the bus stop.

That wasn't where they stayed, though. They took twenty steps past the stop before Lucy instructed them to sit on the stoop. A little line of Littletons lined the lane, waiting for something, but what it was they did not know. Lucy listened intently until off in the distance she heard the bus bumping up the boulevard.

She gathered her girls and kissed each child on the cheek. "We shall see each other soon," she assured each one.

She hustled her children into the street, stooping over them and shielding their faces. What she didn't notice was that the littlest Littleton had slipped away from the huddle.

As the bus bounded toward them, Lucy screamed for Lyric, but Lyric wasn't listening.

She was safely on the sidewalk when she noticed her mother and sisters still standing in the street. She also saw the bus quickly approaching them.

As the bus tried to screech to a stop, Lyric screamed for her mama and tried to reach her. But the bus beat her to it. Her mother and sisters were hit head on while Lyric slammed into the side.

She was thrown to the curb, where she lay in a crumpled heap.

Lyric Littleton was lifeless.

Lucy looked out onto her lovely lawn. The green grass glistened in the bright sun. The warm weather was perfect for playing outside. She watched through the kitchen window as her girls took turns swinging on the swing set and sliding down the slide. Nothing made her happier than seeing the happiness on five little Littleton faces.

They had been in Heaven for more than a month. It truly was a glorious place. Pure perfection in ways no one on Earth could ever imagine. It made the Heaven on Earth appear a little less heavenly.

There were no accidents, no animosity, and no addictions. No blemishes and no brokenness. No crying and no cursing. No debt and no dishonesty. No embarrassment and no envy. No frailty, no fear, no fights, and no force. No grief and no greed. No heartache, no hurt, no health scares, no hunger, no hate. No injuries, no indignation, and no intolerance. No judgment. No killing. No loneliness and no laziness. No mourning. No needs. No obesity, no obscenities, and no obnoxiousness. No pain, no pettiness, and no problems. No quarrels. No rudeness. No suffering, no sickness, no shame, no sorrow, no sadness. No theft and no thoughtlessness. No ugliness and no uncertainty. No venomous words. No worry or want. No excrutiation. No yearning and no yelling. No zealots and no zaniness.

Heaven was as perfect as it could possibly be. There was only one problem. Not a problem per se, a predicament, which plagued Lucy because she knew her plan had not gone quite as she had planned it.

Lucy knew that for the moment at least, her little piece of Heaven was not meant for five little Littletons. It was meant for four. There were four swings on the swing set. There were four bicycles and four baby dolls. There were four little bedrooms with four little beds. There were four little chairs around the five-person table.

The Creator who had created them left little question as to which Littleton did not yet belong in Heaven. Above one little bed pretty pink letters spelled out 'Lauren'. In another bedroom bright blue letters spelled 'Lydia'. Pastel purple spelled 'Layla', and bold burgundy 'Lanie'.

Lyric was the only Littleton left.

The predicament, Lucy lamented, was that Lyric was still living.

It took Lucy five days to figure out why Lyric possessed no possessions in Heaven. But that fifth morning, she woke up with the littlest Littleton lying beside her in the bed. Lucy’s last moments in Hale had come flooding back as she slept. She had assumed that Lyric's life had been taken by the bus, not head on like the rest of the Littletons, but from the side, so that she could be with her family in Heaven and not have to endure Hale any longer. But the details of her dreams led to no denying that Lyric hadn't died.

Her soul was with her sisters and her mother in Heaven. But her little body, it still contained a beating heart and breathing lungs and blinking baby blues.

Lucy's realization was met with such sadness over her little singleton being left all alone in Hale. Her solace came in the fact that Lyric seemed blissfully unaware that she was somewhere she wasn't supposed to be. So Lucy determined that Lyric could remain in Heaven, because her body was but a shell without its soul.

One day, almost a month later, Lyric sat with Lucy in the hanging hammock while her sisters swung on their swings.  

She seemed distracted, not like the Lyric who had inhabited Heaven for more than a month.

Quietly, she climbed into Lucy's lap, until they were face to face. Lyric softly set her head on her mother's shoulder.

"Mama, my Heaven is as happy as your Heaven."

Lucy listened as Lyric revealed her revelation.

"My Heaven has Polly. She sings songs to me and cuddles me and kisses me." She spoke softly and sweetly with her three year old vocabulary. "Somebody scooped me off the sidewalk in Hale and flew me to Heaven and set me down on the sidewalk there so that Polly could find me. All my boo-boos were gone when I got there."

Lucy knew then that it was she who was unaware. Her daughter was divided between Heaven on Earth and the eternal Heaven.

Lyric stated one last statement. "She calls me Caroline, Mama. Isn't that pretty?"

Lucy's baby was begging her to let her live. Suddenly, Lucy's burden was lifted. A peace pacified her soul.

"It's the most beautiful name I've ever known, my baby girl. You go and you live, and we shall see each other soon."

"So soon, Mama."

With that, Lyric slipped off the hammock and skipped over to her sisters, and happiness was once again restored in Heaven.

The next morning, Lyric was not lying next to her mother. But Lucy knew that she did not need to look for the littlest Littleton.

Lyric Littleton was living.

Polly Priestly awoke to a most mystifying murmuring. The sound sounded as though it was coming from the couch where Caroline quietly slept.

It sounded like a sound that Heaven had all but forgotten. If Polly's ears weren't deceiving her, what she heard were the sweet murmurings of a pint-sized person.

Has someone come for Caroline? she wondered as she walked down the hall. She almost hoped it wasn't true, that this little child she had grown to love could be leaving.

When she reached the living room she was astonished at the amazing sight before her. Caroline was crouched on the couch, watching out the window, singing the simple song that Polly sang to her every evening.

Polly practically passed out at what was taking place before her.

Suddenly, Caroline spun around to face Polly. Her baby blues locked into Polly's light lavenders. The lips that had never curled up, down, or otherwise began to creep upward.

The voice box that had never voiced a voice started to speak.

"My mama calls me Lyric Littleton. She's in Heaven with my sisters. Not this Heaven, the spirit one. She said I could come live with you. You can call me Caroline. She thinks it's pretty too."

With that, Lyric fell into Polly's outstretched arms and an everlasting love leapt into their souls and bonded them both forever.

Caroline reached adulthood, as all children should.

She made it her mission to make Hale no longer hellish. After seven years of hard work, residents of Hale were self-sufficient. Families became fuller, with fathers sticking around. Unemployment became nonexistent. Buildings were brought down and houses were built in their place. Cars became common. Businesses were booming in the place where prison was once preferred.

Lucy Littleton watched with wonder at all of Caroline’s accomplishments.

"Unquestionably Questionable" by Jessica Holt