Here is a short story I first wrote for a competition in
2015. I've resurrected the main piece and altered it for the blog, along with
an illustration to help set the scene. I hope you like it.
Confused and disorientated, Spencer surfaced, connecting once
more with his conscious thoughts.
“How the hell did I get here?” And while he was on the subject, “Where exactly is here?”
Everything was dark, so much so the blackness
appeared to be expanding in front of Spencer’s eyes, engulfing him and
playfully teasing his claustrophobia until he realised he was not breathing.
With difficulty he instructed himself to take some slow deep breath, clawing
his way back from absolute panic to cloying anxiety which loitered with intent
and remained static, looking unlikely to be going away anytime soon.
Digging his fingernails deep into his palms, as he had done
so many times before, Spencer regained some feeling again, registering the pain
signals traversing the nerve pathway up his arms from his hands. This also
raised an awareness in him of a dull throbbing ache originating in the back of
his head. He had a vague recollection of paying Gibson a visit, to try at least
to identify some common ground for us to forge a truce.
I knew it was wrong to take a cut of the money,
but you can't blame me for wanting more than what life had dealt me so
far.
Orphaned at five, living rough between the three
spires before winter got the better of me and I was forced to work in the mills
to earn a meal.
Greed got the better of sensibility, and
foolishly i thought Gibson would not find out, although if the rumours were
true, he does have eyes and ears everywhere.
I vaguely recollect going to his workshop, and
seeing the door ajar, with a candle flickering in the window I assumed he was
in the back counting the spoils of the daily take. I went into the shack and
headed for his lodgings before turning towards a noise from which emanated
behind me...
That was the last I remember.
“Where the hell am I?”
Back to his current predicament Spencer had
started to notice more about his surroundings as his sensory perceptions began
to kick in.
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| Illustration by SM-G |
There was definitely an intense sweet smell of
wood which reminded him of Christmas at the workhouse in Coventry, and just as
cold. The scent was so intense, he could almost taste it. Unfortunately his
Proprioception was still catching up, which prevented him from confirming if he
was in a horizontal or vertical position.
Either way at least he noted to be resting on a
soft cushioned surface which reminded him of resting in the haystacks of
Cooper's farm on summer evenings, albeit the cover felt cool to the touch and
as smooth as silk on his bare arms.
For a fleeting moment he considered that things
couldn't be all bad, being somewhere that was so soft and gentle.
Spencer decided to try and move his head to see
if this would clear the grogginess he felt, but to his dismay there was
something solid directly in front of his face which restricted his movements
and produced a dull thud that resonated within the enclosed space around
him.
Fear gripped him firmly, like a child lost and
alone. The breathlessness returned worse than before, as Spencer finally
realised where he was. The ensuing panic drained what energy he had recovered
over the last few minutes. With a final futile attempt to remain conscious
Spencer’s thoughts spun like a
top that was whipped.
He remained uncomfortably aware of a single
phrase repeating itself over and over in his head, which began to slowly fade
away into the distance.
“Is this the end?”
Steve McCarthy-Grunwald
When the
Principal at Lina’s school phoned Axel Ungaram to say that his wife hadn’t
collected their daughter and that the school secretary had already spent an
hour trying without success to contact her, his immediate reaction was one of
annoyance. He tried to disguise any hint of this as he apologised for the
inconvenience and said of course, he could be there himself to collect Lina within
twenty minutes.
His next
action was to call his wife, but both the house phone and Stacia’s mobile went through
to voice message. Axel cursed, stepped out of his office to ask his secretary
to rearrange his 4.30 meeting for the following day, then powered off his
lap-top while trying to reach Stacia’s mobile again, with the same result. This
time, he did leave her a message, saying he was on his way to collect Lina.
With laptop under arm, he headed briskly for the elevator.
From the
12th floor of the JIT building to the underground car-park took less
than a minute, but during the descent he had time to begin worrying about why
Stacia might be late. She had never been so before, in all of the year and a
half since their daughter had started school. She worked from home and they
lived less than ten minutes’ drive from Orchard Infants. If she had been held
up for some reason, though he couldn’t imagine one, surely she would have let the
school know. Alternatively she would have got a message through to him.
He
imagined a road-traffic accident. His wife was a careful driver, but she might
have been caught up in someone else’s carelessness. As he climbed into his own
car, a sleek grey Delta, he pictured Stacia unconscious in a tangle of metal, or
in an ambulance racing to hospital, or worse still, lying at the roadside with
a blanket covering her face.
Once out
of the car-park, Axel tuned the radio into the local news station but all the
talk was of the Rockets’ evening’s football match against local rivals Blue
Star. The news headlines on the quarter-hour mentioned a bomb-scare in the
capital and a new pay deal for striking metal-workers, but nothing about an
accident in Morell. The traffic update stated all roads were free-flowing in
the run-up to rush hour.
Cruising
out of downtown and onto the arterial, he tried Stacia’s mobile number one more
time on his car-phone. Again, there was no answer. His concern mounted as he
drove, but he reasoned with himself that if something untoward had happened,
someone would have picked up her ID and emergency contact number and would have
been in touch with him by now.
It
crossed his mind briefly that Stacia might have left him. He’d heard of it
happening to people, but he dismissed the thought as bizarre. He and Stacia
loved each other and besides, she would never abandon Lina. The priority for
him was to stay calm, collect his daughter and get home. Then he would figure
out what to do next – probably call the police if there was still no word, but
surely it wouldn’t come to that. He’d probably find Stacia had got to the school
herself by the time he arrived and there would be a mundane explanation for her
delay.
When he
pulled into the carpark of Orchard Infants School, there was only one other vehicle
and it wasn’t Stacia’s. Most of the school rooms had their blinds closed, apart
from the lobby and the Principal’s office, where inside he could see Mrs
Darlington playing a game of cards with Lina. The Principal looked up as she
heard his car door shut and brought the little girl to the door to meet him.
“Where’s
mummy?” was the first thing Lina said.
“Mummy’s
busy, sweetheart. You get to ride in Daddy’s car today. Come on, let’s go
home.”
Apologising
profusely to the Principal for the fact that she’d had to stay so late after
school and thanking her for looking after Lina, Axel led his daughter off to
the car. She chattered happily to him about her day as he buckled her into her seat,
but he didn’t really hear what she was saying. Nor did he properly register Mrs
Darlington’s asking him to let her know in the morning if there was anything
the school could do to help. He said goodnight and Lina waved.
Axel
swung the saloon out onto Estuary Road and headed for home with the rush-hour
traffic, every so often checking on his daughter in the rear-view mirror. She
was smiling beneath her shock of dandelion hair and didn’t seem overly
concerned at this turn of events. She was enjoying the relative novelty of a
ride home from school in the big car.
“Daddy,
can we play music?” He smiled at her, reflected in the mirror, turned on the
radio and punched the button for the city’s pop station.
Lina was
soon babbling tunelessly along to the hot hit of the week and Axel allowed
himself a few minutes of mindlessness as they negotiated the suburban
thoroughfares of their homeward route, past the local park and mall, across the
river (more of a broad stream really) that flowed around Meadowland, the
district the Ungarams had lived in for the last four years, and on into maze of
streets lined with boxes – expensive and well-appointed dwellings, but boxes
nonetheless - that comprised their home turf.
Axel
composed himself as he turned into Beech
Avenue (there was not a beech tree to be seen) and it was as well he did so,
for the first surprise was the sight of Stacia’s Corona parked in its usual
place on the left-hand side of their carport. Lina had noticed it too and
exclaimed happily “Mummy’s home” as the Delta drew up alongside its smaller
companion at the side of number 17. It was shortly after 4.30 and the light was
just beginning to fade as father and daughter walked up to their front door.
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| Unravelling... |
Axel
turned his key in the lock and pushed the door open. He called out “Stace?” but
there was no reply. He walked in, keeping in front of Lina. She was chirping
out “Home Mummy” into the hallway as she threw her school bag down on
the floor by the coat stand as usual.
Even in
the failing light, he spotted Stacia’s body through the kitchen doorway before
he’d taken half a dozen steps. At least, he saw her legs in her favourite green
shoes protruding from behind the breakfast bar, and long streak of congealed blood.
Fearing the worst but fighting down the instinct to rush in, he shielded the
sight from his little girl, quickly pulled the kitchen door to and diverted
Lina into the living-room, telling her to wait there despite her protestation
that she was hungry and wanted her Mummy.
Torn
between concern for his wife and his daughter, Axel quickly slipped back into
the gloom of the kitchen just long enough to crouch down and put his fingers
gently on the neck of the prone figure. He realised to his immense horror she
was stone cold. There was no pulse.
Fighting
down a sense of panic he decided he had to get Lina out of the house straight
away, take her round to the next-door neighbour. He could see the lights were
on at number 15 and he hoped that Sahra would be at home and able to look after
his little girl for a few minutes, maybe give her tea, while he confronted
whatever had happened in the kitchen. Closing that door behind him again he
said brightly “I’ve just remembered sweetie that Mummy’s gone out and I think
she said you’re going to have tea with Mrs Glasson.”
“But
Mummy’s car is here,” she reasoned.
“I know,
Lili, but her friends called to pick her up earlier,” he lied.
“All
right Daddy. Can I take Boo with me? He’ll be hungry too.” Boo was her toy bear
and lived on her bed but Axel didn’t want his daughter going upstairs or
anywhere else in the house for that matter. He took a risk that the downstairs
closet would present nothing untoward, turned on the light, took a brief look
around and said “I’ll go up and get Boo while you wash your hands ready for
tea.” He ushered Lina gently into the closet as she said “Okay Daddy” and ran
up the stairs to her bedroom so as to be back with Boo before she’d finished
drying her hands in that meticulous little way she had.
Armed
with Boo, Lina walked quickly with her father to the neighbour’s house where he
rang the doorbell and asked a surprised Sahra if she could possibly look after
the girl for an hour, maybe give her tea? Sahra, detecting the quiet urgency in
Axel’s manner, said she’d be delighted to and took Lina in without any further
questions. “I’ll be back soon,” he called as the front door closed.
Making a
hasty return to his own house, Axel tried the driver’s door of Stacia’s Corona
on the way. It was locked. He also felt the bonnet, which was cold. The car
hadn’t been driven in the last hour. Back inside number 17 he approached the
kitchen with some trepidation.
Pushing
open the door once more he felt round the corner for the switch and flooded the
room with fluorescent light. There she lay, face down and lifeless. He couldn’t
have let Lina discover her mother like this. He approached her form more
hesitantly now, kneeling carefully to avoid the dark pools of blood. Stacia’s
head was turned away from him and as he scooped up her blond tresses to uncover
her face, the hair just came away in his hand.
He
didn’t think he screamed, didn’t remember hearing a noise, but he did feel
violently nauseous and retched drily a few times before letting go of the wig
and staring incredulous at the body. She – it -
actually had pinned up red hair, was wearing his wife’s clothes and
jewellery – yes, those were Stacia’s wedding ring and engagement ring, those
were Stacia’s bangles, he’d bought them for her on holiday in Egypt – but this
was not his wife’s body lying on his kitchen floor.
Axel began to freak. What the hell was going on? His mind was racing. He managed to
turn the dead weight onto her back, pity and shock contending. This woman was
wearing his wife’s blouse, his wife’s green skirt, the latter very bloodied,
and his wife’s shoes. She may have been about the same build, same height and
weight as Stacia but he had never seen whoever the hell this was in his life
before. Shit! Shit! Shit!
After
sitting there petrified for what seemed like an age, but was probably less than
a minute, Axel pulled out his mobile phone and dialled the emergency services. In
the space of less than an hour, his ordered world was unravelling. He stood
there staring in horror, not knowing what else to do, what to think. Within a
few minutes more, he heard the sirens racing towards Meadowland.
Thanks for reading...it may lengthen into a novel one day, S ;-)
