The Prison

by Stefano Pastor

  I failed, though. It was all too strange and disturbing, I couldn’t leave him there.

  Then I picked him up, tried to get him away from the roots.

  Spike was much stronger than me and I realized it on this occasion. He continued to dig, increasingly deep, ignoring all my attempts to pull him away. Then it happened, and I screamed. A very short scream and immediately I covered my mouth with my hands, not repeating the error again. To do this I also had to abandon the rope and Spike was free.

  Milky under the moonlight, a hand appeared from the black earth. A hand that Spike was licking. The hand of a dead man. Actually, I didn’t notice so many details, it was just a hand. It was buried under the tree and it was possible that there was an arm attached to it and to the arm the rest of the body. Which means, there was a corpse buried in the spinster’s garden, just below her beloved plum tree. And that was what Spike was looking for.

  I was only ten years old, yes, but there were some things I understood well. The way Spike licked that hand, cleaning it from the ground with care, without ever biting it really surprised me. It didn’t hurt me so much that there was a corpse buried under the plum, but I was shocked at the way Spike was behaving.

  So, I recovered the rope and pulled him, regardless of his protests. I dragged him out of that hole, and then away from the garden, without taking care to try and cover the hole or any other thing.

  I just wanted to get out of there.

  “But Gigi, it’s absurd. You must have had a dream; such things do not exist. The spinster, then! That comes to mind?”

  My parents were still nice to me, although I woke them up in the middle of the night. I was resigned to be treated like a child, even though it annoyed me a lot and I kept repeating my story.

  Dad’s voice was reasonable, even patient.

  “You realize that it is impossible, Gigi, it makes no sense. A corpse under the plum tree? Do you know for how long that tree has been there? I still remember when the spinster planted it. It was before you were born, long before.”

  Mom was in support and helped him. “At least Fifteen years ago.”

  “Have you heard? You’re talking about a tree, Gigi. You’re saying there’s a corpse buried under the tree. When was it buried?”

  He was perfectly right about this. Spike had to dig for long and destroyed several roots before reaching it. It was directly under the tree, there was no doubt about it. “She might have buried it before”, I said.

  Dad frowned. “Was it a skeleton?”

  No, that wasn’t a skeleton! I remembered that white hand well and it seemed perfectly preserved. Neither did I know what more to say.

  “What could it be?” Daddy asked mom.

  “You will not listen to him, I hope! The baby just had a bad dream! There is no corpse, there can’t be!”

  “No one has ever disappeared in the village, which I can remember.”

  “Exactly! And visitors never come here, you know that. The spinster, then! That poor woman! She won’t even hurt a fly! It’s just absurd to even talk about it!”

  And then, the inevitable condemnation: “What were you doing out in the night?”

  Life is unfair to children. No one understands them, no one ever believes them. I felt like a prisoner that day in my home and with my Spike, firmly tied to one leg of the bed. We didn’t have permission to stick our noses out of my room.

  Dad had gone to the spinster’s house, but I did not know what they were saying. The hole had been filled, I could see it from the window, probably before Dad’s visit. I was scared, but for some other reasons, I felt as adventurous and determined not to let it go.

  I just waited for the night to come and in the meantime, I fantasized.

  “She has never been very fortunate, Gigi. With her, the good God has always been stingy.”

  As she went out in the evening, Mom had allowed me to help her in the kitchen. I was peeling potatoes, but nevertheless I still had the prohibition not to step out of the house.

  “She is a good woman, deep down and she has suffered a lot.”

  “What for?”

  “You would not understand, Gigi. It is not easy for a child to understand.”

  “Tell me all the same.”

  Mom sighed. I had taken advantage of her weak point. As a righteous and religious person, she had always had a tendency to gossip. “Someone betrayed her. Poor woman. He was rich, you know, a handsome man. She… you’ve seen her, you know how she is. She was delighted, but he just wanted to play. A naughty game. She did not realize it. She had prepared the most beautiful wedding dress she had ever seen and arranged everything for the wedding. But on that day, he did not come to the altar. He left her there alone. A month later he married someone else of his level.”

  For me the explanation was obvious. “She killed him! As revenge! She killed him and buried him under the plum tree! When did it happen?”

  Mom burst out in laughter. “You still insist? She did not kill anyone. He is still alive and well, he and his beautiful wife. I meet them every day in the village.”

  Damn it, what a disappointment! I won’t give up, though. Soon, soon, I would reveal the mystery.

  I had to strike by midnight, but before I could move. I needed to be sure they were all asleep.

  This time I was dressed up and armed as well, I was armed with a blade and a small torch. There was no need for it, because the moon was still full in the sky, but I had a little bit of fear in me. Deep down I was going to dig into a murderer’s garden.

  Spike was not able to free himself this time. The knots were made by my father I could not even break them. I was forced to use the penknife.

  I knew I needed him, I would never have had the courage to go out there alone, even less do the digging. Spike was waiting for me in front of his doghouse outside the house and he did not bark even once while I released him. To him the house was forbidden at night. He also showed me his secret passage he used to cross the gate, almost a great honor. He had dug it himself, just behind the bush of blackberries in which I dared not to immerse myself, and I had to toil a lot to crawl into that hole and get out of it unscathed.

  Spike was excited and yet he had waited for me.

  His eyes glittered as he looked at that poor tree.

  I want to remember that. Yes, it will always be imprinted in my mind at that particular moment, it was so magical. He was proud, courageous, full of life, and willing to start new adventures.

  It was only for a moment, then we went on.

  That night my dog died. I did not cry. I never cried, even once. That night I stopped being a child, forever.

  I never thought of death, I did not think it could hurt us. Yet at that moment we went in search for death, that was our goal. Although it was an abstract concept, disguised as an adventure.

  I loved Spike, I think I have not loved any other living being with such intensity in all my life, even if I did not know what love was then. And he liked me too. Yes, he loved me.

  The house was immersed in total darkness. I was very attentive, scrutinizing every window, because I was afraid it might be a trap.

  Although I had not been believed, even though no one had accused her of anything, the spinster knew that I knew. She had seen the hole and covered it. Perhaps there was nothing in there, maybe she had already moved the corpse. Maybe we would never have been able to prove anything.

  Spike had a different other opinion, because he immediately started digging. I forgot about the house and went to help him.

  We were making too much noise and the night was too quiet.

  The earth had been compacted, but the tree had remained crooked. The amputated branches hung already withered, the trunk itself seemed dehydrated, even though it had only been one day. Most of the roots had been cut off.

  I dug in silence, concentrated and determined not to be scared. But the fear was the same, equally divided between the spinster and what we would find. That whitish and lifeless hand. />
  The minutes went by and Spike increasingly tore the already compromised tree roots. There were some cracking and the tree stumbled even more.

  Eventually the hand appeared again and I was certain that the body had not been moved. Spike did not waste time licking it and kept digging. Instead, I became paralyzed.

  Even though it was dirty on the ground, that hand was different from what I had expected. It was not a skeleton or anything. It did not even look rotten, it was like the corpse had just been buried. Who could it be then?

  I saw the nails and it scared me. They were very long and twisted nails, as if they had never been cut off. They looked like claws.

  “Come away!” I whispered to Spike. “Come away!”

  Fear increased minute by minute.

  It was a young, very young hand. Completely smooth. The arm came to light and even it was smooth and hairless, and white like milk.

  If the rest of the body was there and I am certain it was, it was concealed out of sight, completely wrapped in the roots of the tree, which Spike was tearing with genuine fury.

  I was stunned, I could not understand. Dad’s words echoed in my mind. It was not possible, that tree had been there for fifteen years, whatever was buried under it could only have been buried recently. The very fact that the roots incorporated it was proof. Why then was the body in that condition?

  I could not get my eyes off the scene I faced, it was terrible. Spike was biting and snatching at those wooden chains that imprisoned him, with an urgency and a desperation I could not understand.

  The upper body appeared in sight, a portion at least. Here and there, we saw pieces of white skin, made blush by the moonlight. But something dark wrapped it almost completely. Roots, which had grown around that body, but not only that.

  I had collapsed, unable to do anything. I was holding the torch, but I did not have the courage to turn it on, in fear of what I would see.

  Spike continued to release him. Beyond the roots there was a strange dark net and it took me sometime to realize that it was hair. A lot of hair. A thick bundle of mixed hair with the ground wrapped around it almost completely as if they had been cut from all existence.

  I wanted to stop Spike, flee away, forget about everything, but I could not. I could not move anymore.

  “Leave him alone!” croaked a voice in the night, and my heart stopped for a moment.

  Spike continued to bite and tear.

  “Leave my son alone!” cried the voice. “Let him rest in peace!”

  That dark shadow overwhelming me was the most terrifying thing I’d ever seen. I could not tolerate it. So, I pointed the flashlight and turned it on.

  Wrapped in her shawl, dressed in black, with an anguished look, the spinster stood there. “Cursed child! Why are you doing this to me? Why don’t you want to let the dead rest?”

  Your son? What was the spinster saying? She had never had children, she was always alone!

  I found the voice, buried somewhere, a voice that was not mine “You killed him?”

  The woman shook her hands, dried and disgusting like those of a scarecrow. Those hands so skillful that was her only gift.

  “He never was born! He was not to be born! I did not want him!”

  He frightened me even more because he turned to the corpse.

  “Why don’t you die? Why don’t you accept to die? I don’t want you! You don’t want to understand, I don’t want you!”

  It seemed to me that he died, and that woman had to be mad. Son? When was he born? Where had she kept him all this time? When did she kill him?

  I remembered Dad’s words: That plum had been planted fifteen years ago and whatever was there had to have been buried before then. Perhaps the plum tree had been planted just to hide it.

  I also remembered the words of mom, the story of the gentleman who had deceived and abandoned her at the altar. They were waiting for a child, maybe?

  “But…but…” I stammered.

  That corpse was your son? A son buried fifteen years earlier? A newborn?

  The spinster looked completely freaked out, she kept talking to the corpse or perhaps to the plum or maybe even to Spike. She seemed to have forgotten that I was there too.

  “Why did you force me to give birth to you? Why didn’t you die before then? I tried to get rid of you in all possible ways. Why did you oblige me to do this horrible thing?”

  Did she have to hide to wait for a baby? Had she tried to get rid of him? How so? When was he born, she had buried him? And how, dead or alive?

  It was all absurd, that it was not the corpse of a newborn! That it was a boy, far older than me! He must have been at least fifteen years.

  “Go, mutt! Go away!” the spinster shouted, making me jump.

  Spike had continued digging, unaware of everything. He had ripped off the roots, bringing more and more light to the body. He was now attacking the tree, standing on two legs, he leaned against the trunk and pushed. The plum tree was increasingly bent to the ground, the remaining roots were stretched like violin strings. They broke one after the other, with a creepy noise, releasing the body more and more.

  “No!” shouted the spinster, but it was too late.

  Spike pushed it with all his weight and desperation, and the tree gave a last cry of death. With a dead blow, the trunk stepped out of the soil and ruined the ground. In an instant, the roots came out of that poor body, making it wince. Now it was free, in full view, a sharpless mass of flesh, earth, and hair. Right before our eyes, we could see this thing prey to strange contractions, we saw him shivering, then become stiff in a fetal position. It was then that the dark cave opened and that was his mouth and it came out like a mush similar to mud and immediately after the breath of life.

  He uttered an unmistakable lament slow and tingling. More and more shrunken, his eyes closed, this creep was crying, sharp shrieks, inarticulate, just like those of a newborn.

  “No! He must not be born!”, yelled the spinster. “Do not let him be born!”

  Born? It seemed absurd, but the crying he was emitting was just like that of a newborn. He shook his hands, shook his head without ever opening his eyes. Yes, he was just born, he had been given birth to. The umbilical cord, which had been the roots of the plum, had just been broken.

  “No, curse you!”, yelled the woman. “You do not have to be born! I do not want you! You must die!”

  She had forgotten my presence; her face was overwhelmed with hatred towards the creature. Then I realized what she was holding in her hand: a deadly spade.

  She walked towards the hole, but she was immediately forced to stop. That helpless body had found someone who was willing to fight for him. Spike stood in front of the boy, his teeth exposed in a growl of pure hatred. Those yellow eyes that seemed to glow in the dark. The deaf rumbling of his voice grew more and more threatening.

  “I must kill him! I have to kill him! He can’t live!” cried the woman, almost talking to the dog.

  Then it all happened in an instant and I could not do anything to stop it. I almost did not realize it. She took a shot, raised the spade over her head and struck. I saw it penetrate into Spike’s skull, sink in, it almost divided it into two. Spike died instantly, no one even noticing.

  I came out of my paralysis and started screaming. I screamed like a little girl and my screams mixed with the tears of the risen corpse.

  “Shut up! Be silent!” the spinster screamed, trying to pull the spade out of Spike’s corpse.

  She turned me now I knew: she would kill me.

  My legs could not carry me, I slipped backwards like a shrimp, moving away from the edge of the hole. With a creepy noise, the woman returned in possession of the weapon.

  Despite the hatred she had for that creature, I was the most immediate problem. The boy would not move, he would not run away, he was not able to.

  I did not even have a voice to beg her, I realized I had wet my pants. Spike was dead, he was gone, he could not defend me. I do not remem
ber how I felt at that moment, my mind was blinded by pure terror.

  I saw her come away from the hole and stand in front of me. I stopped moving totally. She hesitated. I was not a dog neither was I a corpse. I was a child, a child she knew, the son of her neighbors. Maybe at that moment she thought she was wrong, to have pushed herself too far.

  Then something happened that changed everything. I was about to be killed and yet I looked away from my assassin. It was not important. What was happening in that hole was far more terrifying.

  The creature still blind and prevented from moving had reached for Spike’s body and enclosed him in a hollow embrace, then bent his face on the almost uncovered skull of my poor friend. The noises were unmistakable: as if he was eating him. He was eating Spike’s brain.

  They existed. They were not just fictional characters of comics and movies, the zombies actually existed.

  The spinster also turned around. She had heard the noise and had seen my horror look. She uttered a heartbreaking groan.

  That creep that came out of hell was covered in blood now, he chewed that whitish mush that had been the very essence of my most trusted friend. He had completely uncovered the dog’s skull, breaking it to pieces.

  “That’s enough!” the spinster yelled. “Enough! Stop it!”

  This was too much for her. If she had not gone mad at all, this scene was enough to give her the ultimate thrust.

  She darted towards him, the spade raised, screaming disconnected phrases.

  It was then that the creature opened his eyes and they seemed to shine. It was hate, absolute hate. He dropped the dog’s corpse, uncovering his teeth, and growled. A gloomy growl, terrifying and dour. It looked like an animal.

  The spinster became paralyzed.

  Neither of them looked at me, they were facing: each other, this could be my only chance. So I started moving backwards and tried to stand. However, I must have made a noise, because she noticed.