Sandbox by Adam Blomquist

Eleven year old Sadie Stevens sat on the edge of the sandbox in Stockden’s town park. It was bright and sunny and the park was full of kids, none of them near Sadie or her sandbox. She was making designs in the sand with a stick. She wore a red polka-dot dress that was besmeared with chocolate stains and had her blonde hair in two short pigtails. She had a stack of old looking leather bound books by her side.

“Hey slimy Sadie,” hollered Brendan Bogdanovich, Sadie’s sworn enemy, from the monkey bars.

Sadie messed up her nose and stuck her little pink tongue at him. She then lowered her head and continued scribbling.

Brendon dropped off the monkey bars and started stomping towards her. He walked straight through the jungle gym, over the low end of the seesaws, hopped on top of the edge of the sandbox then scuffed his way through Sadie’s intricate designs.

“Whatcha got there Slimes,” the boy asked. Not waiting for an answer he scooped up her books. Sadie kept her head down and continued unabated in her work, fixing the markings Brendon had ruined and tracing new ones around his feet. Brendon, oblivious, read the titles aloud.

“Practical Ca . . . .conjuring for Low Level Occultists. The Ne . . . necro . . . nomicon and You?” Brendon was thirteen but his reading skills were far below Sadie’s. “What is this crap,” he asked, confused and insulted that little Sadie spent her time reading. He pitched the books onto the grass behind him.

“Are you even listening,” he said. Sadie continued to write. “That that’s not even a letter.”

Brendon pointed down at the symbols, arranged now in a circle around him. They were strange some were triangular and sharp; some were accented with little stars.

“It’s not English.” Sadie said with a hint of playfulness in her voice.

“What you geeks invent your own language now?” Brendon grabbed Sadie by one pigtail and lifted her up to him. She just giggled.

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Shouldn’t say bad words.”

“I’ll say whatever the hell I want.”

“Fine by me.” Sadie threw a handful of sand in his eyes, sending him howling in pain. He wiped frantically at his eyes.

“You little bitch, I’m gonna.”

Sadie calmly stepped out of the sand box and started to pick up her books. Brendon struggled to open his eyes and prepared himself to charge the girl.

Bending his knees to leap forward, Brendon fell face down in the sand, his feet cemented in place.

“What the,” were the last words Brendon got out before he started screaming. Tentacles of sand held his wrists in place. The entire sandbox expanded into one gaping maw, complete with pointed teeth and prehensile tongues, and crunched down. There was a sudden gust of sand and Brendon was gone.

The sands returned to tranquility. The incantations gone, Sadie resumed her seat on the edge, opening up her book for a little afternoon reading.