Through the dizziness, his parents tried to revive him, but he could barely register his father’s fingers clicking with a snapping sound in front of his face and the cries of his mother who tried desperately to coax him out of his state of flux – but it was no use. The truth swirled around his mind like a hurricane. His thoughts raged out of control as the reality of the situation sank in, and bit by bit he edged closer to a total blackout.
Ollie the giant spider was real, but not in the form he and Jess had envisioned. Instead he was just a boy. One who was resurrected to combat his parent’s unwillingness to commit to grief, and as time went by, the reality of their actions became clear.
Ollie's body was alive, his mind, however, was not. The boy’s mind was dark, unpure from necromancy. Ollie was wicked and, at only nineteen months old, showed extreme behaviour which gravitated towards violence.
It didn’t take long for his parents to take action.
Beneath the shed, Hugh constructed an underground shelter, which was converted into a living space. A small, but clean space in which Ollie would have to be kept, and for sixteen long years, the boy lived there without seeing the light of day.
“He can’t be far. He’s never been more than a few feet outside of the shed, he wouldn’t know where to go!” Ruth stated as the family put their coats on in the hallway. The plan was simple: split up and search the village, catch Oliver, and bring him back to his domicile.
“You never know, Ruth. Lusk may seem small to us, but it is a vast unexplored world for someone like Ollie,” Hugh replied. “We need to act fast and get him back here. There is no telling what he could do out there.”
The family split into three groups.
Hugh would head down the street towards the park. Ruth and Jess would canvas the doors and Daniel would stay behind to watch the house.
“If anything out of the ordinary happens, you’ll call me straight away!” Hugh ordered his son.
Daniel nodded. On the outside he looked confident and in control, but inside his heart was palpitating with furious speed. His mother kissed him on the forehead before leaving, her breath still reeking of booze, and he thought to himself: none of the neighbours will want to deal with this drunk. Then he watched them walk to the end of the street and go their separate ways. His eager eyes were watching and hoping for Jess to turn around and make a silly face, but she never did.
Perhaps she is overwhelmed by the whole situation?
It didn’t matter now because whatever Daniel felt suddenly compacted and intensified when the front door closed. His family home felt like a wide-open space and he felt vulnerable in it.
With haste, Daniel set off around the house, double-checking all the exterior doors and windows, making sure that everything was locked.
Once satisfied, he returned to the hall and sat on the foot of the stairs, armed with a baseball bat. His inner fears were consuming his mind as a black wave washed over him. A sharp chill ran up his spine, triggering a shudder in his shoulders – it was almost as if someone or something was breathing on the back of his neck. An unwanted presence. But, despite the crippling fear, a moment of clarity shone through. With a deep breath, he lifted his head and scanned the hallway.
Beyond the front door,a wind howled, announcing the arrival of the expected storm. Beside the door were two clear glass panes. Rain relentlessly pelted against them and with a flash, a bolt of lightning lit up the hall, followed closely by a clap of thunder. He worried about his family being caught out in the storm, his mother and sister especially. Hopefully they were in a neighbour’s house waiting for a break in the rain. His father could be anywhere and this didn’t really bother him too much. Then there was Oliver. His twin brother. Hidden beneath the earth for years. Why couldn’t they grieve like normal people and move on? Bringing him back for a life of imprisonment was not the way.
Worry returned to his mind and with his senses kicking in, he called out with a raw dry throat, “You’re here, aren’t you?”
As soon as the last word left his mouth, the silence hit him harder than the rolling thunder outside.
His loneliness was broken.
“Yes, Daniel. I’m here. I never left,” Oliver said as he emerged from the shadows in the hall. His skin, sickly green, his hair, long, matted, tossed over to one side. His eyes harboured pain, his teeth were gapped, crooked and yellow. Despite his awful appearance, it was the smell that demanded Daniel’s attention the most – layers of unwashed and decaying skin. Rotting and foul. “Why would I leave, Daniel? This is my home… brother.”
“I suppose I should welcome you, then?”
“Isn’t that what families do when a loved one returns home?” Oliver replied, his voice crackling with a high-pitched squeak – clearly suffering the effects from the lack of interacting with the outside world.
He took a step closer, staring into Daniel’s eyes. The closer he got, the more Daniel could see the sorry state the boy was in. “You – You’re a monster.”
“Am I, Daniel? Am I really? What would you know about monsters?” Oliver snapped back, his curious tone laced with slight aggression. “The only monsters here are the people who stood by and let Father do the things he did to me and say nothing. They’re the real monsters!”
“What things? What happened to you?” Daniel asked almost defensively.
Oliver leaned forward and grabbed Daniel by the wrist, his ailing skin cold against his twin’s. Daniel tried to wriggle free, but Oliver refused and a struggle ensued. His other hand had a grip on the bat and with all of his might, Daniel wormed it free, swinging it at his brother.
Oliver intercepted with ease, displaying surprising strength, tossing the bat to one side. His fortitude was far superior to Daniel’s and with little effort, he picked his brother up from the step, slamming him to the ground, which was followed by a swift kick to the gut, sending Daniel’s limp body crashing against the front door.
“The only way to tell you what happened to me, is to show you what happened to me,” Oliver said as he towered him.
Daniel looked up in horror at his brother’s menacing glare, warm drool creeping through a gap in his teeth. And before he knew it, he was being dragged through the house by his hair.
Daniel screamed in pain and tried desperately to get loose, but Oliver held firm and lashed out punches and kicks in retaliation, subduing Daniel’s weak efforts.
The backdoor burst open, allowing gusts of wind and rain to rush in. The elements pounded against Daniel’s face. Beaten and bruised, he struggled against the disorientation.
Oliver had hit him hard, his face swelling instantly. From beneath the throbbing pain, he caught a glimpse of the garden shed.
Oliver, picking up the pace now, was not letting go, no matter what Daniel tried.
“Stop, Ollie! Please,” Daniel cried.
“Shut up! You will see the world I grew up in and you’ll see what Father has done, time and time again.”
Before Daniel could respond, he felt his body lift from the ground. The sky flashed, thunder clapped, and his body – acting like a battering ram – crashed through the shed door. Daniel’s body curled up in a heap beside the hatch entrance. He struggled to get his bearings and before he knew it, he was falling down the shaft, Oliver’s foot the last thing he saw before he landed hard at the bottom.
He looked up, desperately begging for someone to come to the rescue, but all that was above was the sight of Oliver climbing down the ladder and the hatch door slamming shut behind him.
Deep within his slumber, Daniel struggled to return to the light. Whatever had hit him over the head must have been hard. His eyes cracked ever so slightly open, his vision blurring from the overhead lighting in the room. He could not make anything out but he knew exactly where he was. The bed he’d discovered earlier with Jess was beneath him, thick leather restraints secured his limbs to it. As his vision became clearer, Daniel’s heart began to pound. Sweat poured from his f
orehead, rolling down, stinging his eyes – leaving him with no choice but to try and wipe them against his shoulder. But this was ineffective as it only added to the rawness and the burning sensation intensified.
His body ached all over.
With a scream, he called out for his mother…
From somewhere in the room, he could hear a creepy snigger, leaving him no choice but to release a whimper.
“We don’t have much time,” Oliver said as he slowly revealed himself from the shadows in the corner of the room, “and I need to give you a taste of what my life was like for all the years I lay on that very bed.”
“Please, Ollie. Don’t do this,” Daniel begged.
Oliver brushed off his pleas as he worked his way around the room, lighting candles which created a menacing ambience.
For sixteen long years, Oliver had existed in this room. He never got to ride a bike, go to school or even experience the thrill of opening presents on Christmas morning. No, he lived here, alone. And with only one visitor a week – his father – to keep him alive.
Hugh was an angry man. People granted him it on the grounds of grief, but little did people know that his grief had manifested itself into something more; something disturbing, almost lustful in his relentless hunt to control life. And this was Oliver’s plan, one he’d waited over a decade to get the chance to fulfil.
Beside the bed, there was a cart covered with a sheepskin blanket. Daniel listened to Oliver in horror as he told him that beneath the tarp, a set of tools were ready to go. The same tools that Hugh used for years to deliver Oliver his treatment – tools he called, Daddy’s Favourites.
“The treatment, Daniel. That was his favourite thing. He’d get very excited about these tools and things he could do to me with them. Make me pure and rid me of my evil,” Oliver explained.
“Evil? You’re not evil. You’re just a bit confused with the way things work in the real world. I can help you,” Daniel begged.
“You can’t help me.”
With a quick snap of his wrist, Oliver whipped the blanket off the cart revealing Hugh’s ritualistic instruments.
It took Daniel a few moments to realise what he was looking at. In his thoughts, he’d expected a set of tools made of steel or syringes – stereotypical instruments a doctor had at his disposal before a big surgery. But the longer he stared at them, the quicker the truth now became apparent. Everything Hugh had told him was a fabrication – an untruth designed to hide the deepest, darkest, family secret of all.
“That’s right, Daniel. Look at them. I was resurrected by some pagan ritual… But not to live life… No. I was just the one he chose to use for his sick experiments. Now it is your turn to experience the treatment.”
Hugh’s treatment seemed to be nothing more than an exercise in sadistic pleasure. Sat on top of the cart was a mix of strange implements and BDSM toys. Oliver picked up one of the steel instruments and showed it to Daniel, “This was his favourite. He called it the tunnel dragger…”
Daniel struggled against his bounds, but it was futile. He screamed and warned his brother not to come near him, but Oliver could not be deterred. In one hand he held the dildo-like object and in the other, a pair of scissors. “Let’s remove those pants, shall we?”
With a sharp incision, Oliver cut down from the waistline and once the tear was big enough, he forced the pants open with his hands, revealing Daniel’s bare skin.
“Please Ollie, please. Don’t do this to me! I know you’re a little fucked up right now. But we can get you some professional help. It doesn’t have to be like this.”
“No! It’s only fair, Daniel. It was this way for years. He used me to arouse sick men. Now you’ll feel what I felt,” Oliver replied as he prepared to ram the cold steel device into his brother.
Daniel squirmed and bit down hard on the pillow in anticipation of the impending horror… but the pain never came.
Instead he heard a floorboard creak, forcing him to look for the origin of the sound. Like an assassin, Ruth had crept up on Oliver and seconds later, Daniel heard an almighty thump.
Next, he saw Oliver hit the ground, eyes glazed, unconscious, with a trickle of blood oozing from the side of his head.
Ruth frantically tried to release Daniel from his bounds, eventually succeeding. She didn’t say anything, instead she just held him in a loving clutch. He squeezed back, thanking her, but the loving moment didn’t last long as the scraping sound of the bat along the floor demanded their immediate attention. They both turned, expecting to see Oliver standing there, armed and ready to retaliate, but he was still laying unconscious on the floor.
Instead, there stood Hugh. His eyes were fired up with anger and his hands gripped tightly around the bat. “Step aside, Ruth,” he ordered.
“Dad, what are you doing?” Daniel screamed.
“Something I should have done years ago,” Hugh answered while staring at Oliver on the ground. He raised the bat above his head, stepped forward, ready to unload furious rage, regret and remorse. But before he could swing the bat in a downward motion, Daniel stepped in front of him and took the first blow firmly on the top of his shoulder – screaming in agony as a result.
Ruth ran to comfort her stricken boy.
The reality of her husband’s actions became clear in her mind. She cradled Daniel, shielding him the best she could, but Daniel could not keep his mouth shut. “Please, Dad, don’t hurt us anymore.”
Hugh dropped the bat at the sight before his eyes. On the ground, one son lay unconscious, while the other begged for mercy. The sight of his son, and, his wife, wide-eyed and terrified at the man standing in front of her, sent a chill up his spine. His secret was out and if the authorities were informed, he would not be the head of the household for much longer.
Instead, he offered Daniel his hand and pulled the teen to his feet. With a hug, he assured him that Oliver would be allowed to leave the bunker beneath the shed – but it’d come at a small price.
His silence…
Three o’clock on Sunday evening was the traditional time slot for the McGovern’s to sit down for their family dinner. Ruth normally spent the day slaving in the kitchen and usually cooked up a tasty roast. Honey glazed, with juices that would send any carnivore’s taste buds into rapture.
The dining room table was set for four. Hugh positioned himself at the head of it so that he could oversee everything.
At the opposite end of the table sat Ruth, wiping the back of her arm against her forehead to clear remnants of sweat. To Hugh’s right, Jess sat quietly staring at her plate, while on his left, Oliver sat nervously.
Hugh raised a glass of red wine, toasting them all.
Dinner was quiet.
The clinking and the scraping of cutlery against china chimed and sound tracked proceedings. Both Ruth and Jess ate silently and stared down at their plates, while Hugh was yet to touch his food, for he could not take his focus off Oliver. The boy was jerking and squirming in his seat, clearly uncomfortable with the situation. Hugh shouted at him for not holding his knife and fork correctly.
Oliver cowered with fear.
“No need to flinch, son. I’m not going to hurt you. Table manners are important and you must obey the rules. Isn’t that right, family?”
Jess nodded and Ruth meekly replied, “Yes, of course, my love.”
When dinner was concluded, dessert was offered, but no one wanted any. Instead, they continued to sit in silence, listening to Hugh ramble on about Lusk. It was his opinion that the council was just about housing anyone and everyone around them. Foreigners, criminals, and worst of all, paedophiles. And despite being that way inclined, he despised sex offenders. So, he subjected his family to another lecture on how his work was going to cure himself and other offenders of the illness they carried. He insisted that if he could get inside their mindset, then he could find a cure…
“Where is Daniel?” Jess interrupted, catching her father off-
guard.
There was a long pause at the table. And one by one, they all turned to look at the head of the household. Hugh leaned over, placing his hand on Jess’s shoulder. “Your brother is not well, little love. His behaviour has disrupted all of our lives.”
“When is he coming home?” she asked, sheepishly.
Hugh replied by saying that Daniel would be coming home after he decided to change his attitude and be more like Oliver. Jess and Ruth didn’t question him, instead they nodded with acknowledgement.
Oliver was a welcomed and obedient addition to the McGovern family and did everything he was told without question, and this made Hugh proud. Dinner concluded with him hugging his daughter. “Daniel wasn't revived by Seiðr, so it will take a little longer for his treatment to work. He’ll be home soon and will be just like your brother… Oliver.”
THE END
SEVEN YEARS GONE
On a cold Friday night in January, the last train departed. Onboard, passengers were nothing more than a few drunks and working professionals who refused to leave the office at a reasonable hour. The conductor, Adrian Ryan, did not mind all that much, as this was the shift where he could drink on the job and no one would know. In fact, it got to a point where he actually looked forward to working the late shift for this very reason, and while the train rattled along the dark tracks, he sat in silence alone in the cabin – a place for him to reflect on why his life was so unhappy. Molly. His wife of twenty years, missing the last seven – and he never got to say goodbye.
You see, his marriage to Molly was, for lack of a better word, chaotic. And his reasoning for it was money, or lack thereof. They struggled early on. He loved her, no doubt about that, but found it hard to be with her. Although he hadn’t known it at the time, he’d realised over time that she’d been just as unhappy as he was. Anytime they fought, she would always talk about leaving him and starting over a long way away, but stuck it out for as long as she could and he assumed she did so because of their daughter, Zoe.
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