Warren Murphy: The Arms of Kali

Mrs. Baynes peeked in and felt the same thrill she had felt every day since she had taken custody of Kimberly. Life had been grim since the death of her son and his wife and their son. It had seemed for a while that there would be nothing remaining to fill the last years of her life, but then Kimberly had come and the little girl's laughter had made Mrs. Baynes feel young again.

Children were wonderfully resilient. After the police had found the poor little creature, Kimberly had done nothing but chant insensibilities for a week. But that had all passed. Now she was as normal as blueberry pie. She never even mentioned that terrible place where her parents had taken her and Joshua to live. They forget, Mrs. Baynes thought. That's how the young stay happy.

Mrs. Baynes left the playroom to fix herself a cup of tea. She was sipping it in front of the television when Kimberly raced in, grinning, a wad of pink Play-Doh stuck to the end of her nose.

"Come see, Grandma. See what I made."

"Oh, my," the old lady said. "So this is the grand unveiling. Well, all right. I can't wait to see."

But Grandma Baynes had to blink hard as she entered the playroom. The pink blob of Kimberly's miniature worktable was nearly two feet high and formed into the shape of a mature adult woman, complete with breasts. Its face, childishly scrawled with a pencil point, seemed strangely malevolent. But the oddest thing about the statue was the number of arms it had.

Five.

"Why did you give the lady five arms, Kimberly?" Mrs. Baynes asked gently.

"So it'll have room to grow more, silly," Kimberly said.

"Ah, I see," Mrs. Baynes smiled. "It's . . . very pretty, darling." She didn't know why, but the sculpture filled her with loathing. Still, it was Kimberly's, and the child should be allowed to express herself. Maybe during the day sometime, she thought, she could fix the face herself with a nice smile and a pair of M es.

"She's beautiful," Kimberly said. "She's my friend."

"Does your friend have a name?" Mrs. Baynes asked.

"Yes. Her name is Kali."

"Isn't that nice?" Mrs. Baynes said. "Shall we have some ice cream now?"

"Oh, yes," Kimberly said. She held her grandmother's hand and skipped from the room.

The sun set, shrouding the room in darkness. And there, on the miniature worktable, covered with crayons and paper dolls and smudges of Play Doh, the tall pink statue produced a small pink nub in a space between its arms.