Outside, the March wind was whipping the rain battered Magnolia blossoms against the high uncurtained windows of the brownstone apartment building.

Darcy studied the shadowy figure three stories below. He was leaning against the wrought iron fence, cocooned in a black full- length coat, his features obscured by an over sized umbrella. Feeling her presence, he slowly pivoted, cocked his head, and returned her gaze. She shivered, silently chastising herself for not having hung the new drapes yesterday. It was 8.a.m. But the morning was still shrouded in darkness. The night had a stranglehold on what looked liked was going to be a dismal day.

She was startled by her daughter's sudden appearance. Josie stood motionless in the doorway, clutching the dismembered doll. Tufts of red synthetic hair trailed down the hallway leading to her bedroom. It was snatched almost bald. "Josie!" Darcy shrieked. She was coming unglued. She grabbed the little girl's arm and wrenched the doll from her daughter's death grip. Josie remained expressionless. Darcy tried to compose herself. She placed a trembling hand on Josie's shoulder and pointed her back down the hallway, but the little girl dug in, refusing to budge.

It was beginning again; she could feel the heat radiating through the flannel fabric of the Dora Explorer pajamas. They were the only thing Josie had insisted on for her fifth birthday, back when life was normal; just two months ago. Startled by a clap of thunder that rattled the old window panes in the Victorian walk-up, Darcy lost her balance and stumbled on the throw-rug. Arms flailing, she lunged for the arm of the recliner but missed, meeting the hardwood floor head on.

Josie didn't even flinch. She stepped back and studied her mother sprawled spread eagle beneath her, blood gushing from a wound above her eye. Outside, the storm continued to hammer its intensity. Josie stepped out of her slippers and dipped a tiny bare foot in the crimson pool that was forming around her mother's head.

"Josie," Darcy's voice a mere whisper. "Go next door. Get Kelly," her breath was coming in short raspy gasps. "Hurry!" Looking up she saw a broad toothless grin steal across her daughter's face as she continued to swirl her foot around in the thick, clotted oozing. Darcy clawed at the leather chair, but when she tried to pull herself up, she was greeted with a swift sticky blow to the face. Josie bent down and studied the bloody imprint of her foot on her mother's cheek.
Satisfied with her artwork, she turned her attention to the storm outside. Forty-five mile an hour wind gusts had stripped the Magnolia tree bare. Leaning against its trunk, the tall, lanky stranger, opened his arms, stretching them upward as he locked eyes with his progeny. Josie slowly pulled the ottoman over to the window, nothing could mask her exhilaration as she scrambled to unlock the window. Once unlocked, it opened with ease. Caught up in a whirling dervish of fuschia petals, Josie teetered on the edge, then let go, floating to her destiny, below.

******************

Sirens ripped through the early morning traffic. As the E.M.T.'s lifted the little girl's lifeless body into the ambulance, the police questioned the neighbors.

"No." No one had witnessed the accident. But Mrs. Jordan, the neighborhood's watchful eye, said she had noticed a mysterious looking tall gentleman loitering beneath the Magnolia tree earlier. "He kept looking up at the third- floor window," she said pointing to Darcy's apartment, "like he was waiting for someone to appear. It was kind of creepy if you ask me," she paused. "He looked out of place. Like he'd just stepped out of a Charles Dickens novel, or something."

While one of the cops skirted the area for any evidence of this phantom character, the other one followed Kelly Brown up the steps to her friend's apartment. They banged on the door several times, exchanging furtive glances when no one answered. Kelly fumbled around for what seemed an eternity before fishing Darcy's spare key out of her jacket pocket.

Below, an over-sized umbrella and a long, moth-eaten, weathered black coat were being stuffed into the evidence bag.

The door knob was ice cold to the touch. "Go ahead," Kelly nodded to the cop. "Darcy?" She tried to quell the mounting panic that was accelerating her heartbeat and snatching her breath away. Still no response.

As soon as they entered and closed the door behind them, they heard it. A strange rustling coming from the direction of the living room at the end of the hallway. Approaching with caution, the policeman came to a sudden stop, and as he stooped to pick something up off the floor, Kelly almost tripped over him. The rustling grew louder and more furious. He handed the object to Kelly. "What the hell is this?"

Kelly looked in horror. She turned what remained of the scalped doll over, and felt the recording button on its back. It was the doll she had given Josie for her birthday. She remembered the fun they had had recording her birthday song and playing it back for her mom. Kelly choked back the tears.

Stunned, Kelly stormed ahead of the policeman. Before she realized it, she was caught up in the swirling magnolia petals as they rained down on the lifeless body of her friend, forming a plush carpet that laid her to rest in layers of fuschia.

She was still clutching the doll when the cop closed the window and bent over to help her up off her knees. He reached for it, then pressed the playback button.
The gentle child-like voice was barely audible, a whisper. "Mommy looks good in Magnolias," a long sigh, "Mommy looks pretty in pink..." and the voice faded to dead silence.