Emily took hold of the other knitting needle and waited. Auntie Mary turned, stumbling on the edge of the rug and falling towards the sofa. Emily gripped the knitting needle as Auntie Mary fell, impaling herself on it as Emily slid backwards out of harm’s way.
Clare didn’t like this anymore. This was turning into a horrible dream. Turning round she went back to her room and climbed into bed, closing her eyes and hoping when she woke up everything would be back to normal.
Her mother woke her up by shaking her shoulders, holding Emily over her face. “What did you do you little bitch?”
“Mummy?”
“It’s covered in her blood you evil little thing.” Her mother slapped her across the face before throwing Emily at her and storming out of the bedroom.
That night she listened to her mother drinking. When she heard footsteps on the stairs, she tensed up, the bedroom door opening. “I hate you. You killed them both.” Her mother was leaning on the door, almost empty whiskey bottle in one hand. Her voice was slurred as she spoke. “I never wanted you.” She threw the bottle into the bedroom. Clare winced as it shattered on the wall behind her, the room filling with alcohol fumes. Her door closed and she was left alone in the dark listening to her mother starting to snore in the next room as she brushed the shards of glass from her pillow.
She felt Emily climb off the bed. “No Emily Ragdoll. I love Mummy. She’s just poorly.”
Emily turned her button eyes upwards and put her hand to her face again. She climbed onto the cabinet by the door and jumped towards the handle, pulling it downwards so the door slid open. She squeezed out and a second later Clare heard the sound of her mother’s door opening. There was a snort, then a cough, a thud, then finally silence. A minute later Emily reappeared and climbed back into bed and snuggled in next to her.
She held Emily tightly for the rest of the night. When her mother didn’t appear the next morning she made her own breakfast and waited. By the time the police came the milk in the fridge had long gone sour and her stomach rumbled with hunger. Emily hadn’t left her side for a second.
Clare was taken to a children’s home and within ten minutes of being left alone there an older girl had pushed her to the floor, laughing as she lay shocked and bruised on the cold tiles. That night the girl was found dead in her bed and that was when Clare decided it was time to get rid of Emily.
Whilst everyone else was trying to process the untimely death of one of the children, Clare carried Emily down to the end of the grounds, carrying a trowel she’d found in the sandpit. She dug a hole as deep as she could manage and threw Emily into the bottom of it. “You can’t keep doing this,” she said as she began scooping the soil back into place. “I don’t need looking after.”
When the hole was filled she stamped the turf into place before going back inside. Everyone was still talking about Julia, wondering how she could have died in her sleep like that. Clare ignored them, going to lie alone on her bed.
That night she woke up when she felt something on her pillow. She sat up and pulled back the curtain, letting the moonlight stream in. Emily Ragdoll was sitting looking at her surrounded by tufts of grass and piles of soil. Emily looked cross.
Clare grabbed Emily by the arm and tiptoed out of her room, past the sleeping form of Mr Dawson who was supposed to be on night watch. She walked down two flights of stairs to the basement she’d been told it was forbidden for the children to enter.
She’d listened when they’d told her about how dangerous the furnace was. She just hoped it was dangerous enough for what she had planned. She found the furnace in the corner of the basement. There was a chair near it which she dragged over and climbed onto, using a rag to heave the iron door open. She wiped the sweat from her forehead as heat blasted out from the inferno inside. “Bye bye Emily Ragdoll,” she said, looking down at the doll as its face seemed to stretch upwards into a kind of grin. Was that pleading? Or anger?
She took a deep breath and then threw the doll into the furnace, pushing the door closed before returning to her bed without looking back. She brushed the soil from her pillow and laid down, falling asleep within a minute.
She didn’t see Emily again for more than thirty years. She’d long left the children’s home when she moved to the other side of the country, finding and meeting a wonderful husband there and later giving birth to a daughter. She was fast asleep one night when she woke up with a start, knowing something was wrong.
She’d had a long day. Little Susie had been grumpy all day and Edward was ill with a stinking cold, leading to bitter arguments between the two of them over who would do the night feeds. In the end she’d gone to sleep in the spare room to get away from the fighting, waking at midnight but unable to work out what had stirred her sleep.
She got up to check on Susie, pushing open the nursery door to see a figure perfectly still in the cot, lit only by the warm blue glow of the night light on the far wall. She pulled the door closed and turned to look in on Edward. His body was half out of bed, his head at an impossible angle, the neck had been snapped. His eyes were open but they were glazed over. A sudden fear took her and she spun round, running into the nursery to pull back the blankets in the cot, opening her mouth to scream at what she saw lying there.
When the police arrived they found Edward laid with Susie’s body in his arms, as if he’d been trying to shield her from an unknown assailant. Clare was sat on the landing, rocking herself back and forth, her arms folded tightly across her chest, gripping a filthy charred doll that seemed to smile as it looked up at her from two shining button eyes.
Please Leave a Message
The phone woke Brian up. Despite the loud ringing, Eva didn’t stir. He groped for the damn thing in the dark, silencing it without opening his eyes. Whoever it was could wait until morning. He was settling back down when it began to vibrate incessantly. With a grunt of annoyance he sat up and reached for it. Eddie. Of course it was. He should have guessed.
His lodger was often in trouble, ringing to be picked up from a police station or train station or wherever else he’d somehow ended up. Ever since he’d moved in he’d been trouble, although he hadn’t rung this late at night before. 3am, Christ. You’ve got to be up for work in three hours.
Eddie did have a job, a vague thing “in the city.” At least he paid his rent on time. But why was he ringing? He was supposed to be out of the country for the rest of the week. That was why Eva was happily asleep next to Brian, no risk of getting caught.
“Hello,” he croaked down the phone, coughing to clear his throat.
“Brian? Is that you?” Eddie whispered, his voice barely audible.
Brian increased the volume on the phone. “Of course it’s me. It’s three in the morning and it’s my phone. Who else is it going to be?”
“Sorry. Listen, I’m in the middle of something but I might need you to come and get me.”
“Again?” Brian rubbed the bridge of his nose with his fingers. “What is it this time?”
“I can’t say. I think it’ll be all right but just in case, don’t turn your phone off, yeah?”
“Goodnight Eddie.” Brian laid back down and pressed the power button. The phone died in seconds.
“Hmmmm?” Eva rolled over towards him, her eyes still closed.
“Your charming boyfriend. Don’t worry, I’ve turned it off.”
When he woke up the next morning he felt strangely guilty, reaching for his phone and switching it back on. The voicemail symbol pinged up and he loaded the message.
“You have one new message. Message one received today at three twenty eight am.” Then Eddie’s voice whispering. “Brian I told you to keep your phone on. Damn, I need your help. Listen, I’ve been kidnapped. I’m in the back of a van heading west on Winchester Street.” Not abroad then, Brian thought, rolling his eyes. And what have you got yourself into now? “Don’t call the police whatever you do. I think they’re going to kill me if I don’t pay them. Look under my bed. There’s a b
ag down there. Bring it with you. God, I hope you get this. We’re turning right, heading towards-”
The phone went silent. Brian looked down at the screen, the seconds were still ticking away. He held it back to his ear and waited. “-They almost heard me. Look I’ll guide you towards me. Just hurry up please. I’m begging you.”
He paused the message and ran through to Eddie’s room, lifting the mattress to find a carrier bag squashed flat underneath. He peered in, shocked to find himself looking at bundles of banknotes.
“Eva,” he called through to the bathroom, hearing the flush of the toilet. “Eddie’s in trouble. I’ve got to go get him.”
“What?” she replied, sticking her head out, toothbrush sticking out the corner of her mouth like a yellow cigar.
“I’ve got to go help Eddie.”
She turned and spat in the sink before walking back into the bedroom. “He always needs help.” She sighed. “Hold on, I might as well come with you.”
Once they were both in the car Brian hooked the phone to the stereo, replaying the message through the speaker system.
“Oh God,” Eva muttered as she listened. “I never thought it would get this bad.”
“What do you mean?” Brian asked, glancing at her as he turned towards Winchester Street.
“He told me he had a deal worked out. He had a load of pills to sell and had lined someone up to take them.”
“What?” Brian was shocked. “He’s a drug dealer?”
“No, well yes. Not really. He had a load of pills someone gave him. It wasn’t like a career choice or anything.”
Brian motioned towards the carrier bag on the back seat. “Maybe it was.” He hit pause on the phone as Eddie mentioned Winchester Street.
“What do you mean by that?”
“Have a look in the bag.”
She leaned behind him and peered inside. “Jesus, where did that come from?”
“Are you saying you didn’t know about it?”
“Of course I didn’t.”
“Then we’re not the only ones with secrets are we?”
They joined the dual carriageway heading into the city centre as Brian pressed play again to continue listening.
Eddie’s whispered directions took him towards the casino near the river. “Can we fast forward to the end?” Eva asked.
“I doubt it. I don’t think the phone’s that clever. We’ll just have to listen to it all.”
“But what if they’ve killed him already?”
“We’re heading to the docks I think,” Eddie’s voice said over her. “Wait, we’re stopping. Hold on.” There was the sound of a door opening. “Where are you taking me?” They heard echoing footsteps for a while, followed by the clang of metal and then nothing.
Brian held his breath, sure he was going to hear a gunshot. Instead Eddie began talking again. “I’m at George’s bank, the underground car park. They’ve left me here but they didn’t even check for the phone. I’m chained to a pipe. Maybe it was just a warning. Hurry up Brian please.”
They reached George’s bank a few minutes later and stopped at the barrier to the car park. The security guard walked over to Brian’s window as he wound it down.
“Pass please.”
“I don’t have a pass but listen-”
“Sorry sir. You can’t come in without a pass.”
“Look, we only need to go in for a second. A friend of ours is down there.”
“Oh sod it,” Eva said, jumping out and running round the barrier, disappearing underground. “Eddie, where are you?”
“Oi! Come back here,” the guard shouted, barking into his walkie-talkie as he ran down the ramp after her. Brian looked at his booth, the door hanging open. He climbed out of the car and spotted a large green button just inside the booth. He punched it and the barrier swung upwards. He jumped back in the car and tore down the ramp, the engine straining in first gear.
He saw the guard on the ramp but was going too fast to stop. He swerved to the left, almost missing him but not quite. The guard was hit by the corner of his bumper with enough force to send him flying backwards into one of the concrete pillars that held up the ceiling. He slid down it to the ground and lay perfectly still. The car skidded to a halt, smoke rising from the tyres as Brian clambered out. To his left the security guard was laid unconscious or dead. To his right Eva was running towards the far end of the car park.
He was still deciding where to go when the phone rang in the car, the noise echoing through the speakers. He leaned in and grabbed it, holding it to his ear.
“Eddie, we’re here. Where are you? Are you all right?”
“Oh I’m fine Brian. Just wanted to ring you before I head off. One quick question though. Were you ever going to tell me about you and Eva?”
Brian staggered. “What? Where are you?”
Eva had run back to him. “Is that him? Where is he?”
“Is that Eva? I hoped she’d be there with you. I think it’s lovely that you’re getting together. I really do. And to show you there’s no hard feelings I’ve left a present for you both in the boot. Hope you like it.”
The line went dead. Brian walked round to the back of the car and pulled the boot open, staring wide eyed at the contents.
The explosion tore through the car park and up into the building, the noise shattering windows a quarter of a mile away. An enormous fireball plumed up the ramp and out into the street beyond, rising in a cloud of acrid black smoke as the first three floors of the building began to crumble inwards. By the time the first fire engine reached the scene Eddie was already on his flight to Europe, his job in the city finished.
The Quarry
Joe was looking for his car keys when he found the severed hand. He'd been for a run in the old quarry nearly every day for a year, enjoying the peace of the place and the chance to relax before starting another working day. Since it had closed down the quarry was home only to rabbits, pigeons and Joe. Nobody else seemed to know it existed, hidden as it was down a dead end track surrounded by overgrown trees. Ivy crawled up the walls of the few remaining buildings, brambles curled and twisted over the railings of the weighbridge, the cracked windows of the canteen were festooned with cobwebs.
Sweat poured down Joe’s face as he ran to the top of one gravel pile after another, each bigger than the last. He skidded down the last one and then up the worn track that led up to the top of the quarry. He sped up as he followed the track down to the valley that led back to the car. It used to take an hour when he first took up running this route but every day he was quicker, improving his pace ready for the half marathon that was now less than a month away.
He didn't even look at the buildings as he ran back past them. When he'd first found this place, he'd explored them all but once was enough when all they contained was used condoms and broken glass, the air a mixture of old oil, mould and animal shit.
He didn’t hear the door to the shower block creak open as he ran past, drowned out by the music blasting through his headphones. He picked up the pace for a final sprint to the car, coming skidding to a halt beside it, panting loudly, legs like jelly as he hit stop on the timer.
Nearly a minute faster than the day before. Maybe next year he'd be able to run a full marathon. Feeling in his shorts for the car key, he swore loudly as he felt a wide hole that had formed in his pocket. That was just great. He looked at his watch again. If he didn't set off soon he wouldn't have time to shower before starting work. Reluctantly he walked back into the quarry, hoping the keys weren't too far away.
His eyes scanned the ground to left and right until they were drawn to a sparkle in the long grass beside a crumbling boulder. As he walked over he realised what it was that had caught the light of the sun, a watch not dissimilar to his own wrapped round the wrist of a dismembered human hand, the stump torn and flecked with dried blood. It didn't look like it had been sliced off so much as ripped or maybe even bitten.
Joe looked round him and then back at th
e hand. What could he do? His phone was in the car and to get to that he needed his car keys. Smash the window? At least have a quick look for the keys first. No point ruining a brand new 50k car if you don't have to, it's not like it’s fresh anyway. Could have been here for months, maybe years. He ignored the voice that asked why the flesh hadn't started to rot if that was the case and carried on looking.
As he marched past the shower block he noticed that the door was ajar. Frowning, he pulled his headphones off in time to hear a high pitched giggle coming from inside followed by the jangling of keys. So some kid had found them and was mucking about in there then, the little sod.
He stepped through the doorway and walked past the clocking in machine and the single cubicle toilet and then he had to squeeze his way round a fridge that had been dumped in the middle of the hallway. On the floor by the fridge door were dozens of dead butterflies, their wings shredded. He stepped over them as best he could before he noticed a bone in the middle of the floor. It was long and yellowed, cow maybe? Scratch marks ran along it as if it had been gnawed.
He reached the changing room for the showers, a windowless space that was in almost total darkness. On the floor were lengths of stripped insulation and cable. Someone had been busy vacuuming up this lot to sell for scrap then. Joe squinted as his eyes adjusted to the dark, the sound of jangling coming again, this time from the one of the shower cubicles.
"Who's back there?" he asked, peering towards the individual shower cubicles, each adorned with a mildew coated sagging curtain. "Do you think this is funny?" he asked as he walked in, hands outstretched. He skated over the slick tiles and then pulled back the first curtain, feeling inside the cubicle but finding nothing. He turned to the second as he heard giggling in there. "Just give me my keys you little bastard," he said as he whipped the curtain aside.
Night Terrors: 16 Horror Stories Page 6
