Lollipops | Previous Challenge Entry

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TITLE: Lollipops | Previous Challenge Entry
By Sharon Eastman
05/04/16
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It was the 1950s. Marie lived a charmed life in the early years of her childhood at that time. She and her mom and dad lived in a small 700 sq. ft. asbestos bungalow in a growing suburb that still had rustic roads, fields, and in a peaceful, safe environment.

Her parents were madly in love, always hugging and kissing, and their affection flowed unto her. Marie was a beautiful little girl that everyone loved, pampered and spoiled. She was intelligent and had the ability to communicate well with adults and her peers. She felt loved and accepted; she feared no one.

Marie’s long, wavy, flowing blonde hair and bright blue eyes attracted everyone. She became comfortable with all the pets and pampers by adults, and she especially enjoyed the attention. When visitors came to see her parents, she was often placed on display to sing her childish renditions of “How Much Is that Doggie in the Window” and “Jesus Loves Me.” The folks would be delighted.

One day at twilight time an older, homeless man rode the bus to Marie’s home. His name was Stanley. He was a former neighbor of her parents, who had lived downtown in an apartment in the honeymoon days of their marriage.

“Why, Stanley,” Marie’s mother, Helen greeted him.

“Good to see you,” her father, Bill, said.

Stanley smiled a gapped-tooth smile. He was unusually thin, dirty and smelled like sweat drenched socks. He seemed odd, different from all the folks her parents usually invited. A quizzical, dismayed look crossed Marie’s face.

“It’s great seeing you,” Stanley said. While Marie stood aback, he stared at her and remarked, “Is this the little sweetheart I’ve heard about?”

“Yes, this is Marie our four-year-old daughter, Bill proudly replied.

“She’s a real cutie!” Stanley said. “Marie, you like candy don’t you? Here’s a red lollipop.” Marie shyly nodded, said thanks, and licked the lollipop.

“Come on in, and let’s have dinner,” Helen said. The aroma of fried pork chops wafted through the kitchen window.

Stanley couldn’t resist. “Thank you. I’ll take you up on that!” All of them went inside the doll-like house.

“Here have a seat in the living room, and we’ll be right with you,” replied Bill. “We’ll be in the kitchen fixing the food.” He called to Marie saying, “Why don’t you sing “Jesus Loves Me” for Uncle Stanley.”

Marie and Stanley went into the secluded living room. Marie felt awkward as she sang the tune, but when she finished, Stanley applauded. “Come here, Sweetheart, and sit on my lap so I can hold you. If you do, I’ll give you another lollipop.”

Marie lusted after the candy so she plopped onto Stanley’s lap. Indescribable feelings overwhelmed her while she sat. Stanley hugged her and petted her corn silk hair. “You’re so cute. I’ll give you more candy if you’ll stand up on my lap.”

Obedient Marie grinned sheepishly. “Okay.” While she stood on Stanley’s lap, he stroked her small legs. Then, his hands roved to her little rump under her elastic panties. Soon, he was fondling her private parts.

“Dinner’s ready,” Helen yelled from the kitchen.

Stanley pushed Marie off of his lap, and said, “We’ll be right there.”

He handed Marie another candy. As he gave her the candy he warned, “Don’t ever tell Mommy or Daddy. I’ll give you more candy next time I see you.”

Marie hung her head in shame and disgust while she walked to the kitchen. She couldn’t describe those feelings, but she knew something was very wrong and “dirty.”

The three adults ravished their meals, but Marie picked at her plate. The dinner was completed, and Stanley left patting her head. He bid “good bye” to Helen and Bill.

A month later, Bill learned that Stanley had died. Marie overheard her parents talking at the breakfast table about Stanley’s demise. “He was such a nice man but totally lost. He was never successful at anything,” Helen said.

“And the saddest part is that he was buried in a potter’s field like a dead dog, no family or friends,” Bill sighed. “Why does this happen?”

“Only Jesus knows,” Helen mused. And Marie was bewildered yet relieved. She never told, and she never forgot.

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