A Monstrous Place (Tales From Between)

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A Monstrous Place (Tales From Between) Page 11

by Matthew Stott

‘What is wrong with you?’ asked Mum, as Molly lay asleep at breakfast, spoon in hand, face on the table.

  The third night was more difficult still. Molly was very sure she had drifted in and out several times without even knowing it, chunks of time suddenly disappearing. How much longer could she last? How much longer would the thing wait before making its move?

  The fourth night fell, and so did Molly’s resistance. She tried as hard as she could, pinching herself sharply, jumping up and down and pacing the room, but eventually, without even knowing it, a deep sleep took her.

  ‘Mo—'

  ...

  ‘—en to m—'

  ...

  ‘Wake up—!’

  ‘Gran?’

  Molly’s eyes fluttered; she’d fallen asleep she realised. As they fluttered, her eyelashes brushed against something. It was wrapped around her face. She opened her mouth to shout and the thing that was wrapped around her face surged forward, forcing its way past her lips, past her teeth, past her tongue, choking her.

  She couldn’t breathe!

  Molly kicked and tore at the thing that clung to her, that wrapped around her, that enveloped her. Her thoughts began to static around the edges and her chest convulsed as it fought for air, air that was denied it by the awful ‘thing’ that was killing her.

  ‘No Molly,’ said Gran, looking down at her, eyes fierce. ‘Not like this; fight for goodness sake! Fight!’

  With a sudden show of strength, Molly managed to pull an arm free. She grasped the terrible thing and tore it from her, ripped it out of her throat. It squealed and thrashed in fury as she freed herself from it and threw it into a darkened corner of her bedroom.

  Molly scrabbled backwards on her bed, gasping for air, her vision flashing red. She looked around, but there was no sign of her attacker. She found the knife under the duvet, where it had fallen as sleep took her.

  ‘Come out, then. It is you, isn’t it? Come on now, you had your chance, no use playing games anymore.’

  For a few seconds there was silence, the only noise Molly’s heartbeat as it thump-thump-thumped in her ears.

  Finally, the intruder shuffled forward from the shadows and into sight. At first it was difficult to make out exactly what it was that scrapped, and rolled, and weaved into the light. It looked like a creature deflated. Without solid definition. Like the bones and organs within had been gotten rid of and all that was left was an empty, useless suit of skin, teeth and hair. It was like Mr Adams’s friend, the pretend version of Mr Adams’s friend, after he had shot it. Only this was a different pretence. This had once been an old person who tended to their garden and made cheery, boring small talk with a young girl.

  ‘Hello, Mr Fisk. Or is it Mrs Fisk?’

  What was left of one of the ancient pair reared up. The part of it that had once covered a skull weaved back and forth like an adder emerging from its basket at the request of the snake charmer’s flute.

  ‘Wicked girl. Evil girl.’ The voice was but a grating whisper. How this remnant could even speak, Molly did not know.

  It was unclear by the voice which of the monstrous pair it was, not that it mattered. Part of one of them had survived. Part had clung on to some vestige of existence. Nothing so very old and so very, very evil could be extinguished in one fell swoop without leaving some of itself behind.

  ‘Hello.’

  ‘I survives.’

  ‘No, I don’t think you do. Not really, anyway. This is just what’s left of you. A sad old thing holding on as best you can. But you’re dead, really. More or less. Might as well give up.’

  Molly stepped forward; the thing reared back and up, like it was attempting to stand up onto its feet. The eyeholes had collapsed into empty, cruel slits, and the mouth hole stretched wider and wider still, jagged, uneven teeth dripping with a thick, white-red liquid.

  ‘You let me see you, correct? You wanted me to know you were there. To come looking for you. To fail.’

  The thing said nothing; it just weaved back and forth, back and forth.

  ‘You knew I wouldn’t be able to sleep then, not with you out there, waiting to come in here and get me. That I would stay awake, waiting, and that eventually, if you were patient, I’d not be able to resist any longer. That I’d fall into a deep sleep that I wouldn’t wake from as you crept in and suffocated the life from me.’

  The thing’s mouth stretched wider and wider still, so wide Molly thought it might be able to swallow her in one.

  ‘I will kills you, evil girl....’

  ‘No,’ said Molly. ‘I don’t think you have the strength to do that. Not anymore. That’s why you wanted to sneak in and take your chance after I had fallen into a heavy sleep. You knew that I’d be able to fight you off if you came at me any other way.’

  Molly took another step forward; the thing staggered back. It fell, sagged, tried to right itself.

  ‘Alright, enough of this now, you’re beaten,’ said Molly, and she strode towards the pitiful, evil thing as it slid back against the wall. Molly lifted up her knife and with stroke after stroke chopped the creature into tiny pieces. Once done she emptied a box of pens, pencils and pads, gathered up all the pieces of it, and dropped them into the box.

  She carried the box downstairs into the kitchen; opening a drawer, she found some old matches. She could feel the pieces of what was left of one of the Fisks moving and banging against the sides of the box.

  Molly made her way into the back garden and placed the cardboard box onto the grass. Within the box, all the yellowy-pink-brown pieces wiggled like worms, coiling around each other, some pieces becoming whole again as the creature struggled to make itself whole.

  ‘Look how you wriggle and struggle. So desperate to cling to your small and monstrous life,’ said Molly.

  She lit a match and dropped it into the box. Within seconds, the container and its contents were engulfed by strong, orange flames. The remains made no noise, but in her mind Molly could hear it screaming. Cursing. Begging. Threatening.

  ‘Shush now,’ said Molly to the flames, and soon enough the noise in her mind stopped.

  Once the box was burned to ash, Molly stamped out the remaining embers, yawned, and went back inside to sleep.

  And to dream.

  *****

  ~Tales From Between~

  If you enjoyed this story, then look out for more from the ‘TALES FROM BETWEEN’ series.

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