I called out for my sister again. This time she answered from the darkness. She emerged at the far end of the shadowy corridor. She told me to come to her quickly. She’d found something in one of the gloomy, empty rooms but she needed a light now to see it properly.
I hurried towards her, but careful enough to shield the flickering candle flame with the palm of my hand from the passing stale air. I found my sister standing outside one of the rooms. She took the lighted candle from me as I approached and stepped a little further inside.
The weak flame gradually lit up the room. We could make out an old toilet and sink first on the right. There was an old fireplace, too, but it looked like it had not been used in many a year.
In the far corner of the room lay a shabby, old single mattress. It still had some aged covers lying upon it and a strange, shallow bulge in its centre. My first thought was that someone—possibly a small child—might be sleeping underneath. But I quickly shook those thoughts from my mind. The bulge must be from some old pillows or a hidden object under the covers. What else could it be?
In the other far end corner of the dark room, opposite from where we were standing, was a large, solid white freezer. As my eyes and ears adjusted, I heard the faint hum coming from its motor. I made a quick glance at my sister. No further words were spoken between us. My sister made her way towards the old mattress and covers, and I made my way towards the freezer.
I stopped briefly beside the ancient sink and turned on the single tap mounted on top. No water came out. I checked the toilet too. It was also bone dry and when I flushed it, no water came out from the cistern. I then heard my sister make a little gasp.
When I turned around, she was already beside the mattress. She’d pulled all the covers away to reveal something crumpled and dirty underneath. Something I didn’t entirely recognize at first in the dim shadows of the candle light. But it was something that looked very unnatural indeed.
I moved towards the mattress with my sister standing over it. On closer inspection it seemed like an animal carcass. It didn’t feel right though. Why wasn’t I satisfied with the idea that it might be just a dead dog or something? Why was I now thinking that it might be something much more tragic and grimmer than a dead, meaningless animal—something more sinister, more shocking?
I finally reached the mattress and stood beside my sister. I took a deep breath. My sister remained cool, calm, emotionless and unphased. She continued to stare down at the thing.
Finally, I could make out what it was in the dull light. It was an old, rotten, human Skeleton.
From what I could tell, remembering the biology books I’d read in the past, both at home and at school, it was that of a female. It was a rough guess, but the sciatic notch in the female pelvis was usually wider than that of a male one. Also, the pelvic inlet of a female is usually oval in shape, just like this skeleton, while a man’s can be kind of heart-shaped. That’s what I remembered from the books anyhow.
My sister was even less sure than me, but she seemed to agree with my conclusion. I wondered out loud who she might have been. How long had her remains been down here for? When had she died? Could this even be our mother, perhaps? A shuddering chill ripped down my spine.
My sister gave me a look of utter daggers and disgust and told me not to say anything so stupid like that again. She must have been a bad person, my sister finally stated, or had annoyed dad in some way to deserve such a fate. To deserve such a dark, miserable existence down here in that cellar. Why else would she be there?
Still, I thought we should at least ask dad about it? My sister asked if I was insane? And did I not remember the last time we asked him about mum? He’d said she was a whore and ran away with some other man. Just up and left us when we were only little babies. Said she wanted nothing to do with us or him. If that were true, I couldn’t really blame her.
Then I remembered the beating he’d given us again for bringing her up. He’d beaten us black and blue and told us never to mention her again. My sister asked why I wanted to go through all that again? It wasn’t worth the hassle and I knew she was right. Perhaps one of us would be next to end up down here if we enquired any further about it.
Beside the top corner end of the old dirty mattress I suddenly noticed a small cardboard box full of dusty junk. I’d never noticed it at first. Too busy concentrating on the skeleton lump in the middle of the bed. I stepped over the mattress towards the box and crouched down to have a closer inspection and a rake through.
It was full of old books. Paper. Pens and half-filled rambling note books of which the writing I couldn’t read or even understand it was so badly written. Most likely written in darkness, I imagined.
From the bottom I pulled out an old copy of a book called Wuthering Heights. I’d never heard of it before in my life, but it looked kind of interesting. Perhaps I’d keep it. Take it with me back upstairs to my room and give it a read sometime whilst keeping it well hidden from my dad’s keen eagle eyes, in case he recognised it and knew that we’d been moseying around his secret basement.
I noticed an odd dent in the pages. I opened the book to find an old opened and worn envelope inside. My sister was a little curious too and stepped over towards me to see what it might be. I told her it was a letter of some sort and moved the candle over the face of the envelope to try and read the writing on the front.
It was easy to read since it was all printed in block capitals. It was addressed to an Eilidh Brown at the Hudson youth hostel in Fort William, which was a large tourist town further North. Perhaps a good forty or so miles away from where we were, maybe more. The town was a gateway to the largest mountain in Scotland and the UK for that matter – Ben Nevis.
I turned the envelope over. I don’t know why, just more of an itching curiosity to find something else. On the back, was a tiny written return address to one Margaret Brown at Munroe Cottage. Anderson Drive. Thurso.
My sister asked where Thurso was. She’d never heard of the place, but I had. I loved my maps and Geography was one of my favourite subjects since I was always fantasising about other places to live, and well away from my father too.
I told my sister it was another small-town right on the very Northern tip of Scotland. You couldn’t go any further north or else you’d quickly find yourself in the cold North Sea. I felt the envelope up and down, but it seemed empty inside. It had already been ripped open along the top edge and the letter within had long since vanished.
My curiosity had peaked. Who was this Margaret Brown in Thurso? And why had she addressed this letter to Eilidh Brown in Fort William? And how did it ever end up down in my dad’s basement? They even shared the same surname. Were they both sisters perhaps? Was the skeleton lying on the mattress in front of us either Margaret or Eilidh? Or perhaps neither, and just belonged to the random owner of the book?
My sister shattered my burning thoughts when she swiftly told me to put everything back where I’d found it. I submissively obliged and slowly as I could without being too obvious, I pretended to do just that.
My sister looked bored as hell and her attention soon drifted back towards the large freezer on the far opposite, darker side of the cold and dirty basement room. She began to make her way towards it as I gently placed the old envelope back inside the book before sliding the small worn paperback into my trouser pocket while keeping my eye firmly upon my sister at all times as she casually edged her way closer towards the freezer.
I told her we should just go. Just get the hell out of there before dad came home. But she ignored me of course and continued to make her way to the freezer. I gently sighed and followed her. As soon as I’d caught up, she glanced at me with a queer and curious stare.
The power was still running from a cable that ran all the way up the wall and through the ceiling to the house above. I had a really bad feeling about this. Whatever lay inside that freezer couldn’t be good?
We approached the freezer together. I really didn’t want to, but my sister
insisted and led the way. I just wanted to get the hell out of this place. Lock the door, throw away the key, and never think about the cellar and its horror show contents again.
My sister reached the freezer. She waited until I’d stood beside her before attempting to slide her fingers into the cracks of the lid, carefully lifting it open. It opened with ease. A waft of freezing cold air seeped out all around us. We peered inside at the exact same moment. My sister didn’t flinch. But I jolted back and covered my mouth with both hands just to stop myself from crying out.
Inside, the freezer was full of at least half a dozen dead, frozen, little, new-born babies. God only knew how long they’d been lying in there for. Probably for as long as the skeleton had lain their dead, was my first, terrified thought. But I was at a complete and utter loss for words. I’d never seen anything more terrifying or more horrific before in my entire life. And until my dying day I doubt that I’d ever see such a macabre site quite like that one.
My sister closed the lid. Now it was her turn to be a little afraid. She told me that we had to get the hell out of there immediately. Lock the iron door. Put back the key. Tidy up the bookshelf, the books, the hallway, and the living room. Fix that blasted chair too—put it all back together like nothing had ever happened. Dad could never find out what we’d discovered down in his cellar. He could never know that we’d been inside his secret place, full stop.
Chapter 8
Later that day we’d managed to tidy up the Livingroom and the rest of the house as best we could. Even lifting up the heavy old bookcase back up against the wall and the hidden doorway behind it, before carefully putting back every single book into the best possible order we could, through memory. It took us a good few hours and we were always looking over our shoulders anxiously anticipating our father’s inevitable return.
The only thing we couldn’t fix was the dining table chair at the back of the open planned living room that we’d both fallen on top of and through, while in the middle of our big fight. So, we nailed it back together as best we could and swapped it for one of the other chairs against the wall side of the table that we never really used.
It was around eight o’clock at night when dad finally entered the house with a large female deer draped over his shoulder. He wasn’t in his police uniform either and wore his casual loose hunting clothes. He’d obviously changed at work before heading out hunting right after, which appeared to be good news for us.
My sister, acting the most over joyed out of the two of us to see dad, immediately stood from lounging on the couch to greet him. She rushed out into the hallway too when she caught a glimpse of the big dead dear.
Dad slammed the doe down onto the hallway floor from his shoulders. My sister looked so excited that she even took the lords name in vein at how big the beast was. Dad flipped and motioned to slap her across the face but suddenly backed down. He didn’t like anyone talking about Jesus like that.
“Hey, ye wee shite. What have ah telt ye’s before about taking the Lords name in vain, eh?”
My sister swiftly apologised and turned her overzealous attention back to the doe.
“Look at this wee beauty then, eh?” My dad proudly stated. “Fuckin’ dinner for the next few weeks, aye?”
My sister begged to help dad cut the creature up and he cheerfully agreed to let her help. He patted her proudly on the head too before leaning casually in towards the living room to peer over at me.
I was still sitting on the couch too with my feet up, trying to finish another new chapter in the latest book we’d been assigned. I didn’t even bother to say hi as dad sneered over at me.
“And you. Get up off your fuckin’ lazy wee arse and give us a hand with this.”
Without hesitation, I did exactly what he asked and hurried over to help. And as one big happy family we all took a hold of the deer and carried her outside to the large garden shed in the back garden.
Dad spent the next few hours showing us, well mainly my sister, how to drain, skin and cut up the deer from head to toe. Then he carefully took out all of the deer’s organs, one by one and showed them to us, explaining exactly what each one was and what it did, which I actually enjoyed and found quite informative and insightful. My sister somehow showed her enthusiasm more than me though and literally hung on our father’s every word.
At around midnight we all sat down at the dinner table together. Our plates filled with freshly cooked venison and vegetables. We were careful not to go anywhere near the broken chair which still lay up against the empty wall side of the table. Neither my sister or I even made a glance in its general direction and very soon forgot all about it.
Dad said a quick prayer right before we ate which he always did and we both eagerly joined in, even though I was only doing it to satisfy my dad’s stable mood. As we began to eat my heart almost dropped to the pit of my rumbling stomach when dad asked his next question.
“So, what else did ye girls get uptae the day likes?”
I glanced at my sister for a short, awkward second but thankfully she never gave the game away by glancing guiltily back at me. But perhaps dad already knew that something was amiss or had at least noticed my odd expression and read the guilt there and then.
My sister replied for both of us though, straight as an arrow. Saying that we’d done a lot of reading then tidied up the house. A pretty boring day to be honest.
“Did ye’s both write a fuckin’ essay at least then, aye? Something for me tae read later?’
Yes sir, we both replied in unison.
“Good girls.”
My sister tried to swiftly change the topic by asking dad when he was going to take us out hunting for deer. It was something that we hadn’t actually done with him before. He hadn’t trained us to use guns just yet. Rabbits and hares were the biggest animals we’d hunted and killed so far.
“Ah like your enthusiasm ma girl...” dad smiled and chuckled at my sister. “Ah wish it were more infectious…” he continued while eying me up with a sinister sneer. “But aye, maybe sooner than ye’s think, lass. Maybe sooner than ye think. Now, eat up before it gets cold.”
Later that night as we both lay sleeping in bed we were abruptly woken by a loud violent bang as dad suddenly kicked open the door to our bedroom. It must have been around four in the morning.
He switched the light on and dragged us both from our twin beds by the roots of our long and tangled black hair. We screamed and pleaded for him to stop. I was still so dazed and sleepy that I couldn’t figure out if it I was having a terrible dream or not.
“Who the fuck broke ma fuckin’ chair, ye pair of wee shiten cunt bags, eh?”
We both continued to cry and plead as dad held us both off the floor still by our roots, both of us dangling, kicking and screaming, in each of his big strong hands.
“Who did it?” he continued to roar, shaking us even more violently like we were just a pair of rag dolls.
I begged him to let us go. Pleaded in fact and cried hysterically that he was hurting us really bad. I could feel trickles of blood streaming down my forehead and I saw it on my sister’s face too.
“Hurt you?” he continued to roar. ”By the time am finished with ye’s, ye’s will well and truly ken the meaning of the word hurt.”
Either my words had the desired effect or the strength in his powerful arms were deteriorating fast and he released his agonising grip of the two of us at once. We crashed back down to the floor in a crumpled heap at the exact same time.
I desperately tried to catch my breath. This wasn’t going to end well. I made a darting glance up to dad only to see him casually taking off his long, thick, leather buckled belt. He wrapped the leather end around his fist, leaving the buckle end dangling intimidatingly free in front of him. Taunting us with the brutal torture and pain still yet to come.
My sister and I glanced at each other in stricken fear. Tears were streaming down both our cheeks. My sister rapidly began to restrain and compose herself thoug
h while I plunged deep into a bundle of anxious nerves and fear. I started to hyperventilate. I couldn’t take another beating from him. It had been such a long time since the last one. A long, long time. It was the anticipation of what was to come that was churning me up inside the most. My sister could see it on me as clear as day.
“I’ll fuckin’ teach ye’s to respect my fuckin’ things and ma fuckin’ house. Now who’s fuckin’ first?”
I couldn’t speak or even breathe anymore. I felt absolutely petrified.
My sister looked eerily calm though as she casually wiped her tears. The shock and terror of dad’s anger evaporating from her mind set fast. She secretly glanced at me again, this time with a warm gesture. Something that I hadn’t seen from her before. I don’t know if I imagined it in my shocked state, but for a second, I even thought I’d seen her giving me a little sly wink and a smile too.
Dad struck my bed hard with his belt. It made a sadistic whacking thud that jolted me out of my thoughts, bringing me back into the cold hard brutal reality of the moment.
“Ah said, who’s fuckin’ first?”
My sister straightened herself up and gazed up at dad. She blurted out that it was her. That it was all her fault. She was the one who’d broken the chair while standing on it and calmly stated that I knew nothing about it. That she’d tried to hide it. She confessed that she should have told him, but had been too feared to do so since he was in such a good mood when he’d came home.
Dad hesitated for an excruciatingly long moment. He took a deep breath. He looked calm and composed. I thought that might be the end of it. That he might let us crawl back into bed and let us go back to sleep again. I knew he’d love nothing better that to beat the living shit out of me. But my sister, his absolute favourite shining star. Surely, he wouldn’t take this any further and lay a single finger on her?
I was dead wrong.
He dragged my sister back up onto her feet by the roots of her hair once more.
My Sister And I: A dark, violent, gripping and twisted tale of horrifying terror in the Scottish Highlands. Page 6