‘Gets it out, gets it out!’ Mr Fisk thrashed his head back and forth in agony as Mrs Fisk rushed to his aide.
‘Evil girl! Stupid girl! We rip you apart now! We make you hurt!’ screamed Mrs Fisk as she held Mr Fisk still and pulled the knife from his ruined eyeball. It emerged with a further torrent of gunk gushing out after it, Mr Fisk falling backwards in pain, the flesh walls convulsing in sympathy.
Molly looked around for something to defend herself with, anything at all, but the floor was empty but for soil. At least she had done some damage; at least she had gone out fighting.
Mr Fisk stood tall, black blood cascading from his eye socket. ‘Kill you! Stupid girl! Kill you! No more waiting, no savouring, I am killing you right now!’
Molly would not step back or cower, would not give them the satisfaction; she would go out brave and without screams. She thought of her Mum. She thought of her Dad. ‘Come on, then! Kill me you disgusting, evil creatures.’ Molly stood her ground, eyes wide, defiant, and waited for the end.
‘No.’
The voice was calm.
Even.
It spoke with assured authority.
It was a voice Molly recognised.
The Fisks stopped and turned to the basement door, which was now open. A man stood framed in the doorway. He was unnaturally tall, dressed all in black, and his head was entirely missing a face but for a mouth.
‘Our house!’ shouted Mrs Fisk, as she and her husband backed away from the Tall Man, as though they were frightened of him. Molly had never seen the Fisks frightened before.
‘You have no rights!’ Mr Fisk hissed petulantly.
‘You will not kill this girl. She has already lost so much for such a small thing.’
‘Yes! We has her! Kills her! This is our house!’
‘You will not kill anyone. Not anymore.’ The Tall Man raised an arm towards the back wall; its flesh tore open and Mr Adams toppled out.
‘Mr Adams!’ Molly rushed to his side, helping him stand as he wiped gunk from his clothes.
‘What on Earth happened? One minute I’m fighting, next minute, nothing,’ He looked up to see the faceless man. ‘And who the bugger is that?’
‘They is ours! Our house! They attack us in our own home. Have pity on us,’ said Mrs Fisk.
‘I pity you. I do not have pity for you. Girl, man, come here to me now.’
Molly and Mr Adams skirted around the fuming Fisks and hurried up the staircase to join the Tall Man.
‘You are finished now. Finished here,’ said the Tall Man to the Fisk’s.
‘Is that so, is that really so?’ said Mrs Fisk.
‘Maybe’s... maybe’s we come for you perhaps? Hm?’ said Mr Fisk at the Tall Man, growing bold.
‘Maybe we do that very thing. You could be lovely in our garden. Such a rare bloom.’
And the Fisks began to cackle as their fear receded.
‘Do you want to play a game?’
It was a small voice.
The voice of a child.
The voice of a Boy.
‘It’s him, the Boy from across the road!’ said Molly.
‘No! No, can’ts do this to us! No!’ the Fisk’s spat accusingly at the Tall Man.
‘I can. I have,’ he replied, matter of factly.
‘What shall we play first?’ asked the boy, ‘How about... finger painting?’
In a panic the Fisks ran up the walls, towards the hole that would lead to the first floor, but as they reached it they found the Boy there, stood upside down on the ceiling, blocking their way.
‘I only want to play,’ said the Boy. ‘You’re going to be my new playthings. He said I could have you. For as long as you last, anyway. I always break my toys, you see, in the end.’
‘Help us!’ said Mr Fisk to the Tall Man.
‘Help us now!’ said Mrs Fisk.
‘No.’ He replied.
The Tall Man ushered Molly and Mr Adams out of the basement. Molly stole one last look at the Fisks as they fell to the floor and cowered from the Boy, as he calmly walked down the wall towards them.
‘I need some paint. Do you have some for me?’
The Tall Man closed the basement door, cutting off the awful sounds within. He reached into his mouth and pulled out a large brass key, turning it in the basement door’s lock.
‘You keep a key in your mouth?’ said Molly.
‘Of course not. I keep it in one of my stomachs,’ he replied, before swallowing the huge key as though it were a pea.
~Chapter Twenty-One~
Molly, Mr Adams, and the Tall Man stepped out of the Fisks’ house and into their garden, or what was left of it. All around them the vegetation, human or otherwise, had wilted and collapsed to the ground. Vivid greens turned brown and black as they decayed rapidly before their eyes.
‘It stinks out here,’ said Molly, correctly.
‘There is an odour,’ agreed the Tall Man.
The trees and the planted people flaked and peeled away as a strong wind brushed the garden clean, leaving nothing but bare soil. The garden was its normal size again too, now that the Fisks control had vanished.
‘Very decent of you this, old chap, to lend a hand, but d’you mind filling me in a little? I mean, who the Devil are you? Look a bit like a monster if you ask me. Not that I’m prejudiced, mind you,’ said Mr Adams.
‘I don’t have a name. I’ve never needed one,’ replied the Tall Man. ‘I am from here. I am Lord of here. Of Between. I suppose you would call me a guardian. Of sorts.’
‘Royalty, hey? Well I’m used to that; dined with Kings and Queens alike I have in my time,’ said Mr Adams.
‘Thank you for helping us,’ said Molly.
The Tall Man turned his faceless head to her and nodded. ‘You are welcome.’
‘But why now? Why didn’t you help all the other people who were put in this garden? Why did you let the Fisks do this?’
‘It is their house, their property,’ he replied.
‘But you helped us. You helped me.’
The Tall Man nodded. ‘Yes. I had spoken to you. So much loss for one so young. So I helped.’
Molly wasn’t sure that was a good enough answer, but she was too tired to argue, too happy to have rid this place and her street of the monsters, too eager to leave it behind and go home to her Mum. Go home to the real world.
‘Well, thanks,’ said Molly.
‘You are welcome,’ said the Tall Man.
‘Come on, then, Mr Adams, time to wake up.’ Molly set off for the garden gate, but Mr Adams didn’t follow. ‘Mr Adams?’
‘Ah, right, yes.’
‘What’s wrong?’ asked Molly.
‘Well. You see. Thing is, I thought I might just stay here.’
Molly looked at him in silent surprise for a few seconds. ‘What? Stay here? Between? Like, forever?’
‘Yes. Well, no, not forever. Just until I pop me clogs,’ he replied, smiling.
‘But don’t you want to go home?’
‘That place isn’t home, not for me; it’s just where I was waiting quietly for the Grim Reaper to pay me a visit, and he was taking his bloomin’ time, let me tell you, girl. My future was all behind me. All used up. But here? Well, here is fresh, unexplored territory. Monsters roam this land. Just the place for me to walk me final days.’
‘Adventure,’ said Molly, smiling.
‘Exactly!’ said Mr Adams, clapping his hands together. ‘Adventure is life, Molly girl. At least, it is to an old duffer like me. In the real world I die a clapped out old husk, but here? Well, here I can go out as me. The real me.’
Molly looked into his eyes and knew he was making the right decision. She ran to him, arms open, and hugged him tightly.
‘Thank you, Mr Adams. Thank you for risking your life. Thank you for being the bravest person I’ve ever met. Thank you.’
‘Thank you for giving me a second chance at living,’ said Mr Adams.
‘Molly?’
They tur
ned to the source of the voice. Stood in the dead garden was a young boy, around eleven years old, a pair of glasses perched on his nose. He was also grey. His skin, his hair, even his clothes. ‘Molly, Mr Adams, what’s happening? Why doesn’t that big tall person have a face?’
‘Neil!’ Molly bolted forward and embraced her friend.
Mr Adams clapped his hands together in delight, ‘Well fancy that.’
‘I never thought I’d see you again,’ said Molly.
‘What? Why not? What’s going on here exactly anyway?’
‘You know this ghost?’ said the Tall Man.
‘This is Neil. Neil’s my friend. The monsters took him and put him in their garden,’ Molly replied.
‘What did he say? Did he call me a ghost?’ asked Neil.
‘Ah, yes, well a bit good news-bad news, this young Neil, m’lad. You see, on the one hand, you’re dead. Monsters done for you, I’m afraid.’
‘Oh.’
‘But look, you’re still around, you still exist,’ said Molly.
‘Yeah. I suppose so.’
‘Just look at you!’ said Mr Adams. ‘You still talk and walk and smile and frown and think! P’raps a bit on the drab looking side, bit gloomy grey, but you’re still up and kicking, hey?’
Molly leant forward conspiratorially. ‘How’s it actually feel? Being dead, I mean?’
‘Well. I dunno. I don’t really feel dead. Not that I know what that feels like, so maybe I do feel dead.’ Neil looked around him at the familiar surroundings. ‘Is this Heaven then? I thought it would look a bit better than your street.’
‘No.’ said the Tall Man. ‘This is not Heaven. This is my land. This is Between.’
‘Between Awake and Asleep is Between,’ said Neil. ‘Oh, that’s right, isn’t it? I don’t know how I know that, but it’s right.’
‘That is so.’
‘Well Molly, you best be on your way, hm?’ said Mr Adams.
Molly nodded and turned sadly to Neil.
‘I can’t go home, can I?’ asked Neil.
Molly shook her head, then lunged forward to hug him before any tears forced their way out. ‘I’ll always remember you, Neil, and think of you as my best friend, but I need to go back home. Go to the Awake world and to my Mum.’
Molly stepped back and smiled at Neil, who smiled back, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose once again. ‘Yeah. I know. I’ll miss you though.’
‘Don’t worry, I’ll look after the lad,’ said Mr Adams. ‘How’d you like to be my apprentice, hm?’
‘Your apprentice?’ said Neil
‘Well, me number two, brothers in arms. Me, the grizzled, seasoned explorer. Adventurer, hero, brave as you like. And then you, me brave, faithful, second in command. What say you? Ready for all the daring adventures you can swallow? For thrilling close scrapes that’ll make the hair on your head stand on end? Ready for a big old slice of saving the day on a regular basis?’
Neil looked at Molly, then back to Mr Adams. ‘Well, I suppose I’d normally be scared of all that, but seeing as how I’m already dead, I don’t see I could have much to be scared about.’
The Tall Man smiled but said nothing.
‘I’ve got to go,’ said Molly. ‘Thanks so much for everything. I’ll never forget any of you.’ With one last look at Mr Adams, and a nod of the head to the Tall Man, Molly ran. She ran for the gate, twisting once to wave without looking back, arm stretched up high. She ran to her house. She flung open the front door and bounded up the stairs and into her Gran’s room. Gran was stood waiting for her, arms open; Molly dove at her and hugged.
‘They’re gone. They’re dead. The Fisks. The monsters. Everyone’s safe now,’ said Molly.
Gran stroked Molly’s hair tenderly and smiled. ‘I knew you could do it, my clever, brave child. There’s lots of me in you, you know. Fight and spirit. We shouldn’t be afraid of the monsters, not the likes of me and you, oh no; the monsters should be afraid of us.’
Molly let go and smiled up at her dead, grey Gran. ‘I suppose I better go then, back to the real world. Back to Awake.’
‘Yes. The Awake world is for the living. Though I understand Mr Adams thinks otherwise. Good for him I say.’
‘Will I see you again?’ asked Molly.
‘Oh, I should think so. In dreams. I’ll always be in here.’ Gran tapped Molly’s head with her finger. ‘Now, go on. Go to your Mother. Go live life, my fearless one.’
As Molly went to lay down on the bed, she paused, ‘Gran?’
Her Gran stopped in the doorway, turning back. ‘Your Father.’
‘Yes,’ said Molly, quietly.
‘He is so very, very proud of you,’ said Gran, and she blew Molly a kiss.
***
Molly was awoken by somebody calling her name.
‘Molly?’
Molly rubbed at her eyes and sat up as her Mom entered Gran’s room.
‘There you are, fallen asleep on Granny’s old bed again, have you?’
Molly smiled the biggest smile anyone had ever smiled. She leapt off the bed and ran at her Mum, almost bowling her to the floor as she wrapped her tightly in her arms.
‘Careful, what has gotten into you?’ asked Mum.
‘Nothing, I just... I love you,’ said Molly.
Mum smiled and held Molly close, brushing her hand tenderly over her hair as her Gran before her had done. ‘Silly sausage. Love you too. Though having just said that, I suddenly remember I’m supposed to be angry with you, after the way you spoke to the poor... to those two....’ Mum trailed off, confused.
‘What is it? What’s wrong?’
‘Can’t quite remember what... you were rude, is that it? To someone?’
‘Just to the Fisks,’ said Molly. ‘And trust me, they deserved it.’
‘The Fisks? Who are the Fisks?’
Molly blinked twice. ‘The horrible old couple.’
‘Oh. That sounds familiar. I think.’ Mum shook her head, as though dismissing her confused thoughts. ‘Come on, let’s go and have some breakfast.’
‘Yum,’ said Molly. ‘I’m starving’
‘Oh, you know, I hear they might finally have a buyer for next door. Be good to have some neighbours at last. I didn’t like having an empty house next door.’
Molly went to say something, but then thought better of it. The Fisks had gone. Now let them be forgotten.
Molly and her Mum walked downstairs together.
***
The Boy stood sulking as the Tall Man shut him safely away within the confines of his room once again.
‘You know I can’t let you play as you please, Boy,’ said the Tall Man, but the Boy didn’t answer. The Tall Man straightened the note that was attached to the door, a note he’d written oh so many years ago. Satisfied, he made his way along the blood coated corridor, the air heavy and metallic, down the white carpeted stairs, and out into The Between.
~Chapter Twenty-Two~
But that’s not quite the end.
A week passed, perhaps more, and Molly found herself sat on her front door step, playing cards alone, an empty house to each side of her. She missed Neil. She missed Mr Adams. But she was safe now. Her Mum was safe. No one else would be taken away by the Fisks. No more children removed from their beds, their souls to be feasted upon.
She turned card after card, placing them carefully down.
The Fisks old house still stood empty. It was in the process of being bought, but the new owners had yet to appear.
Molly gathered up the cards and placed them into their box.
A movement to her right, a ghost of a twitch in the corner of her eye, caused Molly to stop and turn to the fence that separated her front garden from the Fisks’ property. Molly squinted but could see no signs of further movement.
Placing the box of playing cards down, she approached the fence and looked over into the garden. Not that it looked like a garden any longer. It was devoid of any vegetation, just paving stones dotted across d
ark soil.
Molly looked left and she looked right, but there was no movement to be seen. A cat, perhaps? Molly thought not. She turned and walked back to her house, making her way to the kitchen. From one drawer she retrieved a small torch, from another a carving knife. It was heavy and cold to the touch.
She made her way back outside and walked to her gate; exiting and turning right, she walked to the Fisks’ garden gate. Of course the gate was of normal size. She pushed it open and stepped inside. Molly looked ahead to the house and was sure she saw something dart out of view from one of the downstairs windows. Nothing distinct, a flash of pink.
Molly closed the gate behind her and made her way through the barren garden and towards the front door. She tried the handle. It was open. She went inside.
‘Hello?’ her voice echoed around the empty house, but no reply was forthcoming.
Molly began to make her way from room to room. The whole place had been gutted. No furniture, or carpets, walls stripped back to the plaster.
‘Is there something in here? Come out, come out...’
Next she made her way upstairs. She checked each room, the bathroom void of tiles, or even a toilet, and then clambered up into the attic, shining her torch into every gloomy, hidden corner.
Lastly she stood on the stairs that lead down into the basement, running her hand along one wall. Brick. It did not react to her touch; it wasn’t warm, or damp, or fleshy. Just brick.
‘Oh, well. I suppose I must be imagining things,’ said Molly loudly to herself.
She turned and left the house, swinging the carving knife up and down with each step, certain that if she turned sharply back to the house she would again see a flash of pink as something ducked from view in a window.
***
Molly sat up that night cross legged on her bed, the carving knife gripped tightly in her hand, waiting.
She left her bedroom door open.
Nothing came.
Molly knew something was playing games; she also knew she wouldn’t be able to stay awake forever.
The next night she found herself nodding as she waited and had to pace up and down the room to make sure she didn’t fall asleep.
A Monstrous Place (Tales From Between) Page 10