by Amy Cross
He doesn't understand anything.
“I didn't mean to kill your friend,” I continue breathlessly. “If that's what you're mad about, then I'm sorry, but I was just defending myself. I get why you hate me, but please, don't torture me like this. I'm useless without my legs, I'm just going to die up here. Even if you keep feeding me, what's the point?”
I wait, just in case he shows some sign that I'm getting through to him.
“Kill me,” I add finally. “If you're capable of any kind of compassion at all, just kill me. I don't want to live like this.”
He growls again.
“Just do it!” I scream, reaching up and slamming my fists against the side of his face, battering him as hard as I can manage in the vain hope that he'll lash out and kill me. My hands strike the bony protuberances that are poking out from beneath his lizard-like flesh, but he doesn't react at all. The only pain is mine, in my hands and wrists, before finally I slump back sobbing against the bed.
“Kill me,” I whimper, as I taste the salt of my own tears. “If you have any pity at all, just kill me.”
A flash of lightning briefly fills the room, allowing me to once again see Friendly's large, dark eyes. Over the course of my time with these creatures, I've come to believe that they have a kind of intelligence, that they might even be more intelligent than humans. I've observed them, and I've tried so hard to figure out what all their grunts and gestures meant, but right now I feel as if there's an impenetrable barrier between us. Maybe Frank was right, maybe I really was fooling myself the whole time. Maybe I was just creating an excuse for my cowardice. Maybe there's just something fundamentally wrong with me.
After a moment of silence, Friendly suddenly turns and lumbers toward the door, letting out another faint groan in the first place.
“Wait!” I sob. “You can't keep me like this! I'm not some kind of -”
I catch myself just in time.
I'm not a pet. That's what I was going to say, but maybe I'd have been wrong. Maybe I am a pet, and Friendly just sees me as some kind of amusing little animal that runs around and occasionally gets under his feet.
“I'm not a pet,” I whimper, leaning back against the pillow for a moment. “I don't want to be stuck like this. Please, you have to understand.”
As he heads down the stairs, I look around the room, hoping against hope that I might see something I can use. I definitely don't want to live like this, not without hope. Frank's words are echoing in my mind, and I can't help worrying that maybe Dad would be desperately disappointed if he could see me now. I've let everyone down. My family. Even my species.
“You should have fought harder,” I hear Dad's voice saying. “You'd be dead, but at least you'd have died with honor. Not like this, wasting away in bed, not even able to walk anymore.”
“I know,” I sob. “I'm sorry.”
And then I spot the carvings.
I carved plenty of words and sentences into my bedstead over the past few months, but now there are other carvings next to them. I can't see very well in the darkness, but a moment later a flash of lightning briefly illuminates the room and I realize that someone has carved various strange shapes and symbols next to the words that I'd already carved. In fact, it's almost as if each word that I carved has a corresponding set of symbols. The light has already faded and left me in darkness, but I can't help reaching out and running my fingers across the wood.
Debbie.
I can feel the name Debbie, which I carved a few weeks ago.
And next to that name, there are two or three symbols. It's hopeless to try making sense of them now, when the only light comes from the flashing storm outside, but in the morning I might be able to figure out what all of this means. I'm certain Frank never had a chance to create these carvings, which leaves only one person.
At that moment, I hear a faint bumping sound from below. Friendly is in the dining room, I think.
Turning back to the carvings, I wait for another flash of lightning. It takes a couple of minutes, but finally the room is briefly filled once more with light, for just long enough to let me make out some more of the strange new carvings. And this time, I can see that some of them have been repeated. If there's some kind of pattern, I really might have a shot at understanding. Friendly must have put them here on purpose, and I can't help wondering whether this is a first attempt at communication. I've seen no carvings until today, nothing to indicate that Friendly or Meanie even consider me worthy of communication. So what changed?
Despite the pain in my spine, I manage to lean over and open the drawer in my bedside table. Taking out my notebook and a pencil, I turn to a clean page at the back and then I wait. A few minutes later there's another flash of lightning, and I quickly note down what I see. Then I wait for the next flash, and already an idea is starting to form in my mind. The strange symbols each seem to have three components, which might represent some kind of underlying language structure. When the lightning flashes again, I see that I'm right, and I realize that the base of the symbols seems to be various sets of horizontal lines.
I work all night like this, until morning comes and light begins to flood through the window, and finally I can see well enough to start some proper analysis. Still scribbling ideas in my notebook, I set to work deciphering the creatures' language.
Tenderling
Chapter One
I never actually see it, but I keep seeing the places where it used to be.
The top of the stairs.
The corner of a bare room.
An empty doorway, where something was standing just before I turned to look.
Mummy and Daddy say I'm just being silly, that I'm still getting used to the new house, but they're wrong. Just now, for example, I came down the stairs and suddenly I realized it was watching me. I spun around and looked up at the landing, and I could tell that it had been standing there just a moment ago. I feel like I keep missing it by half a second, no more than that. I waited, but of course I didn't see anything. Whatever it is, it's really good at staying out of sight, but I don't know if that's because it's scared, or because it doesn't want me to know what it is, or if it has some other reason.
I just wish I could lay eyes on it. Just once would be enough.
“Cally!” Daddy calls out suddenly from the room that he's turning into his office. “Is that you?”
I take one step to the right, until I can see Daddy still arranging his new desk.
“You seem to be spending a lot of time just standing in odd places,” he continues, with a faint smile. “If you want a job to do, I can find you one. Those boxes by the door need to go up in the attic.”
Looking down at the boxes, I realize they're the old yellow ones that he uses for his manuscripts. Mummy teases him about them a lot.
“Cally?”
I turn back to him. There's no way I want to go up to the attic, though. I heard something scratching up there earlier. Still, if I say that, he'll make me go up there, to prove a point.
“It'll take time to get used to the place,” he continues. “Just don't over-think everything. For a little girl, sometimes you can be a kind of... pensive.”
“What does that mean?” I ask, frowning.
“It's means you think a lot.”
“Isn't that good?”
“Yeah, but there's a danger of thinking too much.”
I pause, trying to work out what he means. Sometimes, Daddy can be confusing.
“There you are,” Mummy says, suddenly putting her hands on my shoulders from behind. “You're not getting under your father's feet again, are you?”
“I don't like the house,” I reply, turning and looking up at her. “Can we move back to a different one, please? Please?”
“We've been here five minutes,” she says with a smile, as she tucks some of her blonde hair behind her ears. “You'll get used to it. Living in the countryside is just a change of pace, that's all.”
“I don't mind living in the coun
tryside,” I tell her. “I like that, it's just this house... Can we sell it and buy a different one?”
“What don't you like about it?” she asks, running a hand through my hair. “Come on, name one thing and we'll fix it right here and now.”
“I don't like the...” I pause, wondering whether I should say the words. I feel stupid, but I suppose I have to be honest. “I don't like the other thing that lives here.”
“Nothing else lives here, sweetie. Just us.”
I shake my head.
“You think something else is living in our house?”
I nod.
“Well,” she continues, taking my hand and leading me back out into the hallway, “we can't have that, can we? Mummy and Daddy paid a lot of money for this house, and we're not interested in renting out any of it to anyone, not even a field-mouse. If something else is living here, that's just rude! Well, unless they wanna pay rent.”
“Mummy -”
“Come out!” she shouts, turning and looking up at the landing. “Come out, wherever you're hiding! It's time to get going! This is our house now!”
“Mummy,” I whisper, trying not to panic as I tug on her arm, “don't do that!”
“We haven't even seen any references,” she calls out, although I don't know what she means. “I'm sorry, but you'll just have to pack your bags and go find some other people to bother, okay?” She pauses, almost as if she expects an answer, before turning back to me. “I think that should -”
Suddenly there's a bump from upstairs. She turns to look, and her smile flickers slightly, as if she's worried.
“See?” I whisper after a moment. “I told you!”
“That was nothing,” she replies, stepping toward the stairs but stopping when I stay in place. “Cally, let's nip this in the bud, okay? That noise was just a door banging or -”
“It wasn't,” I tell her.
“Come on,” she continues, reaching down and picking me up before carrying me up the stairs. “Do you know the best thing to do if you're scared of something?”
“Run away?” I ask, trying to get free.
“No. If you're scared, you should always, always go and take a look.” She sets me down at the top of the stairs. “Now, which room do you think that banging sound came from?”
I stare at my bedroom door. I don't know how, but I know there's something waiting on the other side. It's just standing there, staring back at me, almost as if it can see through the wood. I can't see it or hear it or smell it, but I know it's there as much as I know that Mummy's holding my hand.
“Let's take a look,” Mummy says, stepping toward the door.
“No!” I shout, pulling on her arm as hard as I can manage.
“Cally -”
“You can't go in there!”
“Cally!” She pulls her arm free and stares at me for a moment, almost as if she's angry. “What's got into you? You're being so silly!”
“You can't go in there,” I say firmly, hurrying around her and putting my back against the door, with my arms out at either sides to stop her. “It might hurt you!”
“Is that what you think?” she asks. “That there's something nasty in the house and it's going to do something mean?”
“Are you guys okay up there?” Daddy calls from downstairs.
“We're fine,” Mummy shouts back to him. “I'm just teaching Cally why it's important not to let yourself get scared.” Stepping toward me, she reaches out for the door handle and turns it, before pushing the door open behind me. “See?”
“No!” I shout, turning to grab the handle, but it's too late.
The door swings all the way and then bumps into the wall, and I see that there's nothing in my bedroom except the bed and a few unpacked boxes. Still, there's a spot in the middle of the room where I know something was standing just a few seconds ago. I don't know what it looks like or where it went, but I know it was there.
“See?” Mummy says, stepping past me and walking into the room before turning to me. “Nothing. Do you know what I think? I think that if there was something, it left when we told it to. It packed its little bags and it scarpered. I think there's nothing to worry about, and you don't have to share your room with anyone or anything, it's all yours. Do you feel better now?”
Staring at her, I realize that she's not taking this seriously. Why won't she believe me?
“Don't scowl at me, young lady,” she adds, ruffling my hair as she walks past and heads back out onto the landing. “I've got to go and get some more boxes from the car. I don't mind what you do, but whatever it is, try not to let your imagination run away with you, okay? There really isn't anything to be scared of. This is just a lovely, friendly house that's going to make us very happy.”
“Was this always a little girl's room?” I ask.
“I think so. The house was empty for a while before we bought it, though, so I'm not certain. Now be good!”
“But -”
“Be good!”
With that, she heads downstairs.
Turning, I look around the room. Sure, it's empty now, but it wasn't a moment ago. I don't know why Mummy and Daddy can't sense it, but there's definitely something else in the house, and it definitely didn't leave when Mummy told it to leave, and it's definitely bigger a field-mouse. Figuring that I don't want to be alone in here, I head to the door and then out to the landing, before turning and pulling the door shut. Just as I'm about to go downstairs, however, I happen to notice something carved into the wall right above my bedroom door. Grabbing a chair from nearby, I climb up and take a look. The carving is faint, and I have to run my fingers over it as I try to make out all the letters. It's not a word I've ever seen before.
“Tenderling,” I whisper.
Chapter Two
“What does Tenderling mean?” I ask later, as we all sit at the dinner table.
“What does what mean?” Daddy asks, between mouthfuls of spaghetti bolognese.
“Tenderling,” I continue. “I saw it written on the wall.”
Daddy looks over at Mummy, but she just shrugs.
“I don't know if that's really a word,” he says, turning back to me. “What wall did you see it on?”
“It's on top of my door.”
“I saw that earlier,” Mummy says, as she twists some spaghetti onto her fork. “It used to be the kid's room when the previous family lived here. Obviously it was some game they played.”
“But what does it mean?” I ask.
“It doesn't mean anything,” she replies. “It's just a made-up word.”
“Aren't all words made up?”
She pauses.
“Fair point,” Daddy says with a smile.
“So who made this one up?” I ask.
Mummy pauses, as if she's suddenly feeling a little uncomfortable. “The people who lived here before, I suppose.”
“But why? And why did they -”
“Cally -”
“What happened to them?” I ask. “Why did they move out of the house if it's so lovely?”
“Eat your dinner, young lady,” she replies, glancing at my father as if she's a little worried about something. “And then it's bedtime. Are you excited to spend your first night in the new house?”
I open my mouth to ask if I can sleep in bed with them tonight, but I know she won't allow it. She's already told me that now I have my own room, I have to use it, so I guess I have to at least try. She'll probably let me go in with them if I get really scared, though. I mean, really really scared.
***
I can hear it.
Flat on my back in bed, with the duvet pulled up to my neck, I listen to the faint creaking sound coming from the landing. When Mummy put me to bed a few hours ago, she spent a long time tucking me in and telling me that everything will be okay. I felt like she was really putting some effort into it, more than usual. Then she turned the light off and went downstairs, but I didn't go to sleep. I could hear them downstairs, talking about things and loadi
ng the dishwasher, and then they came up to bed. I whispered to them, hoping they'd come in to me, but I think they didn't heard. Then I heard their bedroom door bump shut, and the house became quiet.
And then I heard the first creak.
I stare at the partway-open door, convinced that at any moment I'll see something appear on the landing. I know it's out there, just out of sight, and I know it knows I know it's there. I can't even describe how I know, it's just like I can feel its presence. I can't read its mind or hear its thoughts, but I can hear that it is thinking, and I think it's thinking about me. Every few minutes I hear another creak, as if it's just standing out there. I don't know what it wants, and I don't want to know. I just want it to go away forever and not come back.
I wait.
Silence.
And then I hear a faint click from the landing, like one of the other doors being slowly opened, followed a moment later by a bump.
I sit up straight in bed.
It went into Mummy and Daddy's bedroom. I don't know how it made it past my door without me seeing it, but I know, I absolutely know for certain, that that's where it went.
Mummy told me to stay in bed and not to go wandering around in the night, but I'm pretty sure things are different when there's an emergency. I push the duvet aside and get up anyway. The floorboards feel cold against my bare feet, but I haven't unpacked my slippers yet so I walk carefully, quietly over to the door. Leaning out and looking along the landing, I realize immediately that I was right: there's nothing to see except the area next to the door that leads into Mummy and Daddy's bedroom, which is where it was standing just a moment ago, before it went inside.
And now it's in there with them.
Although I'm scared, I step out onto the landing, keeping my eyes fixed on the other door. The lights are off and the moon is shining through the window at the top of the stairs, casting the blue shadow of a gently-swaying tree across the wall. I take a couple more steps forward, and after a moment I realize I've been accidentally holding my breath. I tell myself to breathe normally, and I start edging closer to the door, all the while listening out for any sound from inside the room. I don't know what that thing is doing in Mummy and Daddy's bedroom, but I can sense it as clearly as ever. I think maybe it's just watching them, the way it was watching me earlier.
