The Attic - Writers Forum

semtecks · 01-03-2006, 04:26 PM

The train rattled and jolted as it carried Elsa south toward Crowfall. She sat back in her seat and watched the scenery run away -- large rolling meadows separated by fences and low stone walls. The fat man next to her snored loudly and reeked of vodka, occasionally muttering a few sleep blurred words that sounded Russian.

She was a short, round girl with dark brown hair, a woolly hat pushed down around her head. Now, as the scenery blurred brown, yellow, and green through the small British rail window, a single tear squeezed from the corner of her eye, ran down her cheek and fell onto her collar ... the first, and last, tear she would ever shed for her dead mother.

The carriage was tipped into darkness as the train rumbled through a tunnel. The fat man beside her stirred and opened his eyes, looked at Elsa and smiled with overly large teeth.

"Sleeping on trains, it is hard, eh?"

Elsa nodded. "Very."

The Russian sneaked a look around and pulled a small hip flask from his battered raincoat. "Lucky I have night-cap. Go to sleep, no problem." He put the flask to his lips and tipped it back, the fluid sloshing around inside. He clenched his teeth and grimaced. "Vodka, it is good. Drink?" he asked, offering Elsa the hip flask.

Elsa surprised him by taking the flask and tipping it right back, swallowing a mouthful of burning vodka.

"Gah! You drink like Russian girl." The Russian pried the drink from her. "English don't know when to say no." He took another sip, grimaced slightly. "My name is Uri."

Elsa coughed as her belly burned. "Elsa," she half whispered. "Thanks for the drink, Uri."

Uri waved an absent hand as the hip flask disappeared into the darkness of the inner coat pocket. "English women drink for two reasons," Uri said. "One, to get drunk; two, to forget. And since you are riding on train and not in nightclub I guess you wish to forget something."

Elsa was surprised by his clarity. "My mother died," she said.

Uri did not seem shocked by this. He shrugged. "There is a saying ... er, what was that?" He touched the tip of his index finger to his lip. "Shit happens, that was it. Shit happens."

Elsa blinked at him, but a smile formed just the same. She was starting to feel light and happy as the vodka took affect.

"What I mean to say is," Uri went on, "even though she is dead, you do not look too sad."

Elsa nodded. "We didn't get on. I moved to Edinburgh when I was fifteen and never saw her again. We talked on the phone but ... there was always enmity even in that."

"What was the argument about?"

Elsa looked away. She felt a connection with this pleasant stranger but she wasn't prepared to tell him that. "Just teenage stuff," she lied. "Boys, and parties, and that sort."

Uri shook his head. "This country," he swivelled his hand violently to indicate the train carriage, "you forget the most important thing in life. Family. You should learn to forgive your mother, whatever she did, it cannot be as bad as all that."

Elsa knew the man was wrong, but she was suddenly too tired to argue. She yawned and pressed her forehead to the cold window glass, feeling the soft vibration of the train in her skull.

"Gah. That's vodka," Uri said laughing. "Drink too much, too fast ... instant nap. Up the hill to Bedfordshire, as you say in England."

***

Crowfall was as dreary as ever; gray, stone houses with darkened windows like the eyes of skeletons greeted her as she stepped off the train platform and into a taxi. The taxi took her through streets that hadn't changed a lot in fifteen years -- an Internet cafe had replaced the bakers, and what looked like a night-club now stood where there was once an old sweet shop; but the church still stood with its gargoyles peering malevolently from the roof, and when the taxi took Elsa up the final hill to her mother's house, its bell started to ring as if welcoming back its prodigal daughter.

The car pulled up and Elsa handed the driver a note as she stared up at it.

"This is a twenty, love."

"Keep it." Elsa ignored the driver as he stared incredulously at her. She gaped open mouthed at the four storey, Victorian building standing defiantly against the clouded sky. Elsa imagined the door, with its brass lion knocker, opening a crack, just a crack and the bloated corpse of her mother peering out with one cataract pale eye; or maybe it would be her father, wearing the red bathrobe he'd worn nearly everywhere when his mind started to slip, the hang noose trailing from his neck, cutting into his flesh.

She almost screamed when a hand fell on her shoulder.

"Oh," a small voice said. "Oh. I'm so sorry. look at me, what a stupid thing to do."

Elsa turned to see a very short woman with thick round spectacles blinking up at her. Elsa said: "It's my fault, Mrs Doyle. I've been ... on edge lately."

Mrs Doyle smiled, revealing overly large, overly white false teeth. "That's understandable, deary. After such a loss, such a loss."

There was an uncomfortable silence as Mrs Doyle waited for an explanation from Elsa that would account for her absence. Elsa said nothing.

"Your mother gave me instructions," Mrs Doyle said at last, her overly large, overly white false smile dwindling a little. "The poor deary was breathing her last and she said to look after the antiques (never, ever sell them), don't disturb your fathers study, and feed Petrie." Mrs Doyle licked her lips. "She was in quite a bit of pain at the end, quite a bit. Maybe she was delirious because, as far as I'm concerned, she had no pets. This ... Petrie ..." she trailed off as she regarded Elsa's face, which had lost some of its colour.

"Thank you," Elsa said. "Thank you, Mrs Doyle." She took a deep, ragged breath. "I can take it from here."

Elsa started across the gravel path, walking towards the house, her eyes set on the door; not looking up at the upstairs windows because she was afraid she'd run all the way back to the train station if she saw some pale face looking down on her.

"If there's anything you need, deary," Mrs Doyle shouted. "A cup of sugar, or a sympathetic ear, I'm always here."

Piss off, you nosy cow, is what Elsa wanted to say, but this was a tough moment for her and she didn't need any more aggravation. She kept her eyes on the door as her feet crunched in the gravel, sounding like corpses grinding brittle teeth together.

She ran her hand over the lion-shaped, brass knocker, flecked with brown rust now, and for one crazy second considered knocking. She fumbled in her pocket instead and brought out the ring of keys she'd received in the post. The keys jingled like wind chimes as she held them out searching for the right one; finally inserting a thick gold one into the hole between the lions gaping jaws. The lock clicked and the door opened into darkness.

It was no haunted house -- though Elsa knew it had its ghosts -- a thick red carpet lay on the floor, a cuckoo clock ticked softly on the landing, and pictures of happy times were hung on all the walls. Coats rested on a stand near the door; they would never be worn again, Elsa realised with a shiver.

For a moment Elsa thought of calling "Hello?" like some damsel from a bad horror flick. She couldn't do that, if someone her to call back from the shadows above the stairs she would have a heart attack and die on the spot. She was not thin, stupid, or brave enough to be a damsel in distress, anyway.

The door closed quietly behind her and she walked into the living room ( the parlour, her mother had called it before the dark days). A leather arm chair sat in front of an empty fireplace, soft depressions in its cushion. A coffee table sat next to it holding an empty ash tray.

Elsa eased her bulk into the chair and listened to the soft ticking of the cuckoo clock. She thought back to the days when the arguments had raged until three a.m. and the guilt she felt when she just wished it would die like a sane God would have insured.

A floorboard creaked upstairs like the lid of a coffin.

Elsa took a deep breath. She cupped her palms over her lap, her grip tightening until her fingers turned white.

***

It was dark by the time Elsa had worked up the confidence to face it. She switched on all the downstairs lights and lit a fire, made sure it burned bright red and the logs crackled.

She took the stairs slowly, walking as if carrying a great weight on her shoulders. It took an eternity to reach the third floor where the silence crowded in on her, thick as cotton wool. It was listening, she realised; if she strained her ears she could almost imagine its rattling, bubbling breathing.

A cord dangled from a rectangular groove set into the ceiling. She reached for it and pulled, the hatch falling back and steel ladder unfolding. The darkness of the attic covered it, Elsa's quick breaths barely hiding the soft scuttling as it scurried for cover.

"I'm coming up," she said.

A soft gagging sound floated down to her, the sound of its laughter that had haunted her dreams so badly.

A wave of dizziness and nausea gripped her, making her grab on to the steel ladder for balance. She almost ran then, she wanted to so badly. But she'd been running for too long from her demons, now the time had come to face them or keep on running forever.

The ladder creaked and wobbled beneath her as she climbed, each step a hollow clank --- a dirge. The darkness overcame her with terror. It could see in the dark, it had lived in darkness all its life.

The voice was choked with bubbling flem, but the word was unmistakable. "Mother-lady?"

Elsa reached the top of the ladder and sat with her legs dangling. She reached into her pocket with a hand that shook like a victim of palsy, producing a torch. The torch shed a dim light over the attic, illuminating stacks of unwanted things dumped here for it to play with.

semtecks · 01-03-2006, 04:27 PM

"Why haven't yous fed us mother, we's grow hungry. We's eat rats and beetles and spiders."

"She ..." Elsa's voice broke as panic threatened to overwhelm her. "She's dead, brother. She died a weak ago. Cancer."

A faint shuffling as a shadow darted through the torch beam, behind a stack of paintings.

"Turn off the light, sister, we's not liking it." The voice churned with murderous glee. "It burns us. Talk to us in the dark, sister, like we used to."

Elsa felt her throat constrict as she remembered how it had once escaped into the walls and spoke to her as she lay in bed, spoken about slimy, dead things.

"Brother," she used this word because it has no name; a name was chosen before its birth but went unused when the abomination came out -- Petrie was simply the code name her parents had used to discuss it in public. "You have never seen the outside world, the light --"

It squealed with disgust.

"-- but the light is good. It is good for you, brother. And the grass, and the trees, and the sea. I can show you all these things, brother. Take you to a home, a special place where you'll meet other people."

"People like me?" it asked, with something like longing in its voice.

"No, brother, there are no people like you."

Silence filled the room. "We likes the moon," it said at last. "Likes we did before, hiding in the darkness, running through the woods. "It moaned in delight. "And the juicy --"

"Stop it!" Elsa screamed.

"Flesh!" Ecstasy warped the creatures voice. "So juicy, so fresh, so tasty."

Elsa started to cry. She had left a week after it had escaped that last time. Her father had just died and the creature had used the break in routine to escape during a power cut, he'd come back a day later, dry blood around his mouth. He'd been carrying a dirty dress red dress with small, yellow flower patterns; a small dress.

"I'm here because I feel guilty," Elsa felt tears burn trails down her cheeks. "I'm here because I think that our parents -- that we -- created a monster instead of hiding one. I'm here because I want to give you a choice, brother. A choice to choose."

"What does we choose?"

Elsa said: "Life out there, in the light, or death in the dark." She said into the silence: "I can't watch over evil the way that mother did, brother. or should I say half brother? I know what you are now, not fathers child ... the child of some dark creature who took mother, raped her while she walked the woods. I know there is some humanity in you. If you don't agree to change, to go away and learn to live in the light, brother, I swear you'll burn before this night is through!"

There was no answer. Elsa shone the torch wildly in all directions, her heart beating a staccato rhythm. "I swear I'll burn you if I have to, brother!"

Fear pricked at her, somehow he'd turned the tables. Maybe he'd known all along that mother was dead .. maybe he'd been planning. Maybe ...

A faint shuffling came from above as a small mist of plaster drifted down and settled in Elsa's hair, dusting it with gray. She screamed as she looked up and saw it, hanging from the roof like a demented, overgrown spider. Its four arms and four legs gripped the ceiling and its head tipped back on its shoulders so it could glare down at Elsa with six red eyes. A hideous parody of a smile stretched its lipless mouth, revealing row upon row of razor sharp fangs. The torch light touched its gray, vein crossed skin and it screamed, dropping and turning at the same time; seeming to hang in the air with its eight, clawed appendages creating a star shape.

Elsa dropped back with dreamy slowness, tumbling through the hatch, past the ladder, and turning over to land on the third floor carpet chest first. The air exploded from her lungs and she managed to roll aside just as the thing fell next to her with a meaty slap.

She lay on her back for awhile, waiting for her breath to come back. she could smell it next to her -- the smell of swamps, and rats, and mothballs -- and she could hear its slow, rhythmic breathing. When she finally managed to turn, she saw that it was unconscious.

Its eyes, usually blood red, had dimmed slightly to pale orange; black blood trickled from the corner of its mouth. She'd never seen it up close in the light before, now she could see the fine blonde hairs on its arms and legs, a green-black tongue lolling between its razor teeth. It was completely naked, and had no genitalia -- no nipples, or hair on its head. Its face protruded slightly, doglike, and there was no nose to speak of.

Grimly, she got to her feet and rolled up her sleeves. It was unconscious from the fall but she didn't know how long it would be out. It was child sized, and was not hard for her to drag down the stairs, its head beating a dirge upon each stair it thumped.

Every time they passed under a light bulb there was a sizzling sound as the smell of burning filth filled Elsa's nostrils. Finally, she reached the landing and it had started to stir, making a bubbling murmur deep in its throat.

She carried it to the fireplace, dancing and crackling, the logs glowing incandescent. She used the last of her strength to lift the thing in her arms. Her skin itched and screamed out in revulsion everywhere its flesh touch hers; it was like stroking a tarantula with leprosy.

Its eyes glowed bright red as she looked down at it.

"I'm sorry brother."

For the first time in its life fear crossed its face, but it was too late. Elsa hefted it onto the fire where it squealed like a burning lobster. The skin leapt from its body as it burned, crackling like dry hay. The scream grew distorted and insectile. Black smoke rose and filled Elsa's lungs with sweet, rotten death, making her gag. There were popping sounds from the fire as its skin bubbled and dripped onto the carpet in little black puddles.

And then it was quiet. Just blackened bones.

The strength went out of Elsa's legs and she sat down hard. Now she knew why father had gone mad, gone mad and hung himself. She felt drained and exhausted.

She sat there and watched the flames lick at its bones for an hour or so before the firelight began to wane. Until the cuckoo clock chimed twelve o'clock.

The soft sound of tiny legs scurrying behind the walls filled the room for just a moment.

"No." the doctor had always assumed it was a boy but it didn't have genitalia and the doctor had been very eager to be far away from the damned thing.

The sound came again from the walls to her left, and then under the stairs.

Some females in the animal kingdom can produce offspring without a mate when they can’t find one. There is a beetle in North Africa that does this, and several species of frog. It’s called asexual.

Scurrying came from upstairs, stopped when she gasped, and then carried on.

Insects could lay hundreds, or even thousands of eggs at a time.

Elsa stood up, hearing her spent legs click. She moved toward the kitchen with the ragged, determined gait of a zombie. The soft scuttling of insects moving just out of sight seemed to follow her. There was a soft mewling of hungry creatures.

She opened the kitchen cupboard and reached for a small bottle of lighter fluid, as good as petrol or spirits to burn a house down. She clutched the lighter fluid in her hand and six red eyes regarded her from the darkness ... then twelve, then twenty four, then forty eight ....

cellardoor · 01-03-2006, 05:18 PM

it's very very good. it sort of all happens too quickly though. if you could slow it all down until she actually gets to her brother, it would be a little more real, i think

Wyndstar · 01-03-2006, 08:20 PM

Okay--it's a bug thing.

If it was able to reproduce without a female, why did it's sire need her mother?

"Some females in the animal (kingdom?) could produce offspring without a mate. There was a beetle in North Africa that did it"

This is a bit awkward. For a bit, I thought it was an error.

Ooohh, but this was eerie in a an icky buggy way. I'm not going in the woods anymore now. Thanks semtecks.

Icywind · 01-03-2006, 08:28 PM

Wow...the begginning was one of the most smooth and engaging scenes I've ever read so far in this categorie......

Good Job

kalrarii · 01-04-2006, 10:41 AM

No mistakes that are big enough to ruin the mood during the first reading. I'll think about this for a bit and maybe make a more detailed review of what you have so far. P:

The Thing · 01-04-2006, 11:12 AM

I really loved the first half of this tale of terror. It gradually built up the tension, I just knew this was leading to something bad. I liked the conversation between Elsa and Uri, shame Uri left the story so early.

The second half I felt you let the story run away from you. I liked the idea of Petri but I didn't likes his Golem-like voice. Also, the ending let the side down, when you started explaining things. I like it in horror when things are not explained entirely. Fear of the unknown - the unexplainable - is one of mankinds greatest fears. It was like the narrator had turned from Edgar Alen Poe into Richard Attenbrough.

Glad to see the terror come back for the last few lines. All those eyes staring out from the darkness... it sent a chill down my spine.

While I liked your story, I could see how I would have handled it differently. I would have had a different relationship between brother and sister. But, hey, it's your story and a very good one. I'd love to read more of your work if it's as good as this.

semtecks · 01-04-2006, 02:03 PM

Cellardoor,

Thanks for reading. You think it went quick? It's eight pages long, but I think i see what you're getting at: make the confrontation with petri the climax, wheras at the moment. it's the middle.

Wyndy,

Yup, a bug thing. I kept wondering what it would be when i started, at first I pictured it as a slightly deformed boy who'd been unjustly locked away ... then i thought, nah! let's just make it a big, evil bug. lol.

I see what you mean abpoout that awkward sentence. it's been sorted.

Kal,

Thanks for reading. Did you like it?

Thing,

Uri was my favourate character in the whole story, but there was no way of fitting him into the wider story. Unless he was a private dick or some kind of monster hunter.

You're pretty much right in your assesment of the second half, and I'm glad you liked it. Just out of interest, what would you have done differently with the sister brother relationship?

gohn67 · 01-04-2006, 03:10 PM

Hey Semtecks,
I liked it. Especially the first segment with Uri in the train. Loved that part. Those kind of dialogue scenes are my favorite types. The middle section was a bit weak compared to the first part. Maybe you could bypass that stuff with the old woman and somehow get whatever necessary backstory in their another way, just a suggestion. The ending sequence with Petrie (didn't like that he reminded me so much of golem though) was very suspenseful. The end was cool too.

==
A few nitpick things

Quote:

it was like stroking a tarantula with leprosy.

Thought this was interesting simile but it was more humorous, than creepy. Most of your previous similies were were about graveyards and coffins, etc, things that relate to death mostly.

Same goes for the lobster one, which I couldn't picture because I didn't know that lobsters could make sounds.

Quote:

Some females in the animal kingdom can produce offspring without a mate when they can’t find one. There is a beetle in North Africa that does this, and several species of frog. It’s called asexual.

This sounded out of place. It was interesting to know, but didn't fit the voice of the narrater. Felt forced. And I was going to comment about his lack of genitalia, until the ending. Hehe. Also I liked that you made petrie a female because it always seems like the monster is male, I automatically assumed petrie was a he, but maybe that was because she mentioned it was her half brother.

Anyways liked the story. It didn't seem rushed to me, you took you time with it for the most part. Only the middle part felt a bit rushed or maybe too slow. You took your time and built good suspense. First scene with Uri was awesome, it defintely drew me into the story.

Chris Miller · 01-04-2006, 03:33 PM

Hey semtecks:

(Why the tiny font? You like making us squint?)

But nice work. Very patient and careful. Articulate. The ending is real subtle and creepy, set up so that you can leave a lot to the imagination, but I wonder if you couldn’t have foreshadowed it a bit more. The whole bit with the Russian seems kind of superfluous. Perhaps I missed something. I took it that she was the mother. Am I wrong? Is she the daughter of that “thing”?

Quote:

The fat man next to her snored loudly…

I’d have him fart a couple times. Seriously.

Nice the way you capture the Russian manner of speech.

Quote:

Uri did not seem shocked by this. He shrugged.

Why tell too? Why not just let him shrug?

Quote:

She yawned and pressed her forehead to the cold window glass, feeling the soft vibration of the train in her skull.

Nice. Really put me there.

Quote:

Mrs Doyle smiled, revealing overly large, overly white false teeth.

Good use of repetition. And again! In the next paragraph!

Quote:

…like some damsel from a bad horror flick.

Not sure about this simile.

Quote:

The torch shed a dim light over the attic, illuminating stacks of unwanted things dumped her for it to play with.

Very nice creepy, genre hop of an ending. Missing the word “by” though.

I thought the story ended here! Consider my above comments in light of this. Then I saw the next section. I have to agree with The Thing. The 2nd part is good, and wraps it all up, but I’m not sure it adds anything. It seems to change genre and voice, become all explanatory (more novelistic) and even a little stereotypic monster-wise. Also kind of hard to see how bro managed to stay alive all on his own for so long. Still, well written, kind of D. Koonz-y only better in some ways, more erudite. Almost two stories.

semtecks · 01-04-2006, 04:15 PM

Gohn,

I'm glad you liked it. Somehow I thought you'd like Uri.

Quote:

Same goes for the lobster one, which I couldn't picture because I didn't know that lobsters could make sounds.

I had to get that into a story eventually. Lobsters are boiled alive, never dead. They scream -- you need special audio equipment to hear it because its so high pitched. But they do scream. I used to have nightmares about that when i was younger, it creeps me out.

chris,

Thanks for the critique, accurate, as always. i don't think i could lose the second half -- it's all one story, I just couldn't post it together because of the character limit thingey. The second section's where i'll concentrate most on my next draft

"Also kind of hard to see how bro managed to stay alive all on his own for so long."

Quote:

"She ..." Elsa's voice broke as panic threatened to overwhelm her. "She's dead, brother. She died a week ago. Cancer."

The Thing · 01-04-2006, 07:35 PM

Quote:

Just out of interest, what would you have done differently with the sister brother relationship?

I would have had the sister visit the house as you did, but instead of putting an end to her brothers life I would have played on their sibling love. I like a good family drama and this scenario could be played out in a number of twisted ways.

My main idea was that Elsa doesn't want her brother to go out and get caught so she brings back local undesirables for Petri to 'dispose' of.

Maybe, for extra disgusting-ness, how about a hint of incest. Just a hint. Enough to freak the casual reader out.

Anyway, our styles are different, but that is where I would have taken it. Yours is good as it is -well, with a few tweaks.

Jimbob · 01-05-2006, 12:25 AM

Semtecks,
I thought this was very good. I appreciate the fact that you dumped the conventional approach of making the heroine beautiful and the fat Russian a bad guy or a lustful buffon. Actually, I liked him so much I would have enjoyed having him around a bit longer. BTW, whiskey reeks, rum reeks, cheap wine reeks, but vodka is oderless.

The only thing that didn't quite figure was was that she was so horrified
when she saw the creature. He was pretty disgusting alright, but after all, she had seen him before, hadn't she?

Over all, an excellent piece of work

Jimbob

Sigg · 01-05-2006, 03:48 AM

Well since there are already so many comments and critiques i won't go repeating all the same shit you've already been told, so I'll just tell ya that I liked it a lot, particularly the first part. Good job.

Chris Miller · 01-05-2006, 10:10 AM

It occured to me last night that the best developed character is the Russian. We actually get to know him, through is almost extraneous cameo appearance, better than anyone else. IMHO.