by Andrew Cull
“NO!” I ran along the hallway shouting after Mum, “NO! STOP!” By the time I made it to the backdoor she was nowhere to be seen. I knew it was out there, knew it had been waiting, its foul mouth chewing the air. “MUM!” I screamed at the door hoping she would appear again from the darkness, have heard me, changed her mind and come back into the safety of the house.
“MUM!” I screamed into the darkness. “MUM! Please!” I felt Dad arrive at my side. I wanted to go after her, wanted to run into the darkness but I was too scared. All I could do was stand at the door and call after her.
*
I stood at the door for hours, until I was so tired I leant against the frame to hold myself up. Dad took a torch and went out after Mum. I knew he wouldn’t find her. She hadn’t been thinking. She hadn’t taken the bag that she had packed, that she had planned to take when she left. She had been so shocked by what had happened that she had just walked straight to the backdoor and walked out of our lives.
Long after the storm had passed, after wind had died down and the night had fallen silent, as the sky had begun to lighten, Dad closed the backdoor of our house. “Don’t worry son. Your Mum’ll be back” he said. He was never the same after that night.
*
Dad went to bed but I stayed by the backdoor. Eventually, when I couldn’t stand any longer I sat leaning against the door.
I woke to the sound of movement outside. Quickly I got to my feet and grabbed the door handle. Had she come back? Had Dad been right? At the last moment I hesitated. I remembered the offerings, the broken dead things we had found rotting outside the door. My hand slipped away from the handle.
