MicroHorror

Katie hurried into the kitchen. She tugged at her grandmother’s apron as she stood stirring soup on the stove.

“Grandma, I need bandages. Fluffy has hurt his paw and needs to go to hospital.” She waggled a scruffy pink rabbit back and forth.

“Okay, Nurse Katie. I’ll check the medical supplies cupboard and see what I can do for you.” Her grandmother turned the heat down and lifted the first aid box from one of the kitchen units. She took a seat at the table and opened the box.

“Hurry, Grandma! I think he’s slipping away.” She flopped the bunny’s head back for dramatic effect.

“Be patient, sweet pea,” she said, taking out a couple of plasters and cutting a length of bandage.

“But I’m not the patient, Grandma, Bunny is.”

Katie’s grandmother smiled. Katie could be so funny sometimes but now she was beginning to feel too old to keep up with her granddaughter’s imagination. She handed Katie the bandages.

“Quick,” Katie shouted as she skipped out of the kitchen. “There might still be time!” She hurried down to the bottom of the garden where her Wendy House-cum-hospital was situated. The bunny tossed around in her little hand as she ran, probably suffering from neck injuries by the time it arrived for treatment.

Katie had just finished dressing the rabbit’s paw and was putting him into his shoebox bed when the neighbor’s young boy peered over the fence and asked what she was doing.

“I’m a nurse and this is my hospital.” She stood aside so he could look in and see all of her patients.

“Cool. Can I play?”

“Yeah, but after my lunch though. Grandma’s going to call me in any minute now.”

“Okay. I just had my lunch.” He flashed a half-eaten apple at her for proof.

“Better watch you don’t eat a seed. My Grandma says if you eat the seeds a tree will grow out your belly.”

“Really?” He looked at his apple in disbelief.

Just then her grandmother appeared at the door and called her in.

“See you after,” she called to him as she ran up the path.

Katie got back to her hospital to find the boy from over the fence waiting inside for her. His face was puffy from crying and he held his stomach.

“I ate a seed,” he sobbed, pointing into his mouth. Two lines of snot ran down his nose and he sniffed them up again.

Katie put her plastic stethoscope to her ears and held the disc to his belly. She pretended to listen. “Ah, I hear it. Don’t worry, I can fix it for you. That seed will be out in no time.”

“Grandma! I need more bandages!” Katie waited at the open back door and called through the empty kitchen.

Her grandmother sighed, lay down her book and came into the kitchen.

“I can’t give you any more bandages, K–” Her words got trapped in her throat as she stared at her granddaughter on the back step, her hands and little white nurse’s outfit splattered red with blood. “What have you done?” She stifled, covering her mouth to stop vomit from rising out.

“It’s okay, Grandma. The boy next door had a seed in his belly but I mended him.” She held out a red hand. “Bandages, please.”

• Copyright: ©2006 Jo Skead

Emily closed her eye and focused on the colored target across the field. She stood strong and held her breath for concentration. Her bow was a lot more technical that the ones she had seen on television. It was made of wood with a camouflage-patterned handle. Its arrows were made of metal, perfect for slaying dragons. One arrow to the heart and the dragon would drop dead. No longer could princesses rely on knights in shining armor to rescue them. This princess had to rescue herself. Mother would be out at work when she returned to the castle and she would be alone with the dragon, which would play its secret games with her, touch her, smell her, breathe on her with stinking breath until Mother came back. The dragon held them prisoner.

She would lie awake at night (telling herself it was because there was a pea under the mattress) and listen to the roaring downstairs. Mother would cry as plates smashed on walls. The dragon would thud upstairs to its lair, leaving her to tidy its mess before tearfully retiring up to the dungeon. She opened her hand and let the arrow fly. It hit the yellow center and she let out her breath.

The instructor rested his warm hand on her shoulder. “Excellent work, Emily. You’re a natural.”

She looked up and returned the smile.

As she stepped silently through the front door she could hear the dragon stirring in the living room. It had lain in waiting all afternoon, drinking, ready to strike when she returned to the castle. She slipped off her shoes, lifted up her bow and slotted an arrow into place. She tiptoed through, holding her breath, and took aim.

• Copyright: © 2006 Jo Skead

“I’m sorry, I think there’s been some kind of mix-up,” Alan said, scanning down the list attached to his clipboard.

“I think you’re right; both of us shouldn’t be here,” Greg replied, checking down his own sheet. “Well, I’m definitely supposed to be here. See, it says so on my collection sheet: Mrs. Edith Chambers, 7 Willow Avenue, 3:36pm, Saturday, 16th September, ‘06. That’s today, and about ten minutes away, I believe.”

“But my sheet says exactly the same. Is this some kind of wind-up?”

“I dunno.” Greg shrugged his shoulders. “We might as well have a seat until the old dear shows up.” Greg sat at the small kitchen table and Alan took the seat opposite. There was an awkward silence for a few moments.

“Got many collections done today?” Alan asked.

Greg glanced down his sheet. “Yeah, a few. This is my last one before I go back to the office and sign out.”

“And is your boss as bad as people say he is?”

“No, not really. As long as you get your work done right and don’t mess around he’s a pretty decent guy. He’s just trying to run a business smoothly, that’s all. Mind you, this isn’t my first career choice, but y’know.”

“Just rumours, I guess, then,” Alan added.

Greg glanced at his watch. Mrs. Chambers was due to walk through the door in the next five minutes. “So, how long have you worked in the business?”

“Oh, this is only my second day collecting. I didn’t realise how business-like the whole process is. I guess it’s better this way, as there would be so many lost souls wandering around. The relief on some of their faces when you come to pick them up is unreal sometimes.”

“Wish I got that kind of response,” Greg replied, glancing at his watch again. “Right. What are we going to do about her?” He nudged his head over to the empty door as if the old lady was standing there already.

“What is the normal procedure? Do we each contact our head office?” Alan asked, flipping over his collection sheet to see what the small print said.

“No need for that. I’m sure we can decide between us where she should go,” Greg said. “How about letting the coin decide?”

“Sure, why not. I can’t think of a fairer way,” Alan replied, shrugging his shoulders. “Heads means she comes with me.”

Greg smiled and flipped a coin into the air between them, and their eyes watched it spin down, hit the table and continue in its circles.

Both of their heads turned as the kitchen door opened and Mrs. Chambers shuffled in, weighed down by shopping bags. They sat silently and watched her as she unloaded her bags, oblivious to their presence. The coin was still spinning.

Suddenly a glass jar shattered on the floor, staining it red with pasta sauce, and the women grabbed her chest with her frail hand and let out a cry as she slumped forward and landed face down on the floor. They both rose from the table. The coin had stopped.

“No offence, but let’s hope our paths don’t cross again”.

“None taken.”

They exchanged a brief smile.

— 

The elderly woman was helped to her feet. She dusted herself down and stared at her empty shell on the floor. She shook the gentleman’s hand cautiously.

“Good afternoon, Madam. I’ve been sent from the collection agency. I’m here to assist you in crossing over.”

“But where am I going?”

“No need to worry, Madam, you’ll see when you get there.”

• Copyright: © 2006 Jo Skead

These eyes don’t feel right. They see things I’m not meant to see. Having sight took a lot of getting used to. A black world where my ears and fingertips ruled for so many years found it difficult to take a back seat.

It’s amazing what can be successfully transplanted nowadays. God must look down on us with so much pride.

I stare into the bathroom mirror at a face that is different from the one I’d imagined through touch. My hair is black and my eyes are green.

My eyes.

Donated tissue is usually anonymous but I know where my eyes came from. I’ve seen the crimes–seen the blood. I lift the knife up and rest the cool blade against my cheek. I’ve seen enough.

• Copyright: © 2006 Jo Skead

My brother is oblivious to how serious the situation is. He thinks it’s a game. I tug his hand to hurry him but his feet only shuffle. We have to run. Word reached us that they were coming. Time to move to a safer place.

I wish I had his mind, a seven-year-old trapped in a man’s body. Life would be so much simpler. I’m glad he doesn’t understand and I’m glad he’s not afraid.

We burst into an abandoned house on an unfamiliar street and I rush him upstairs. Giggles come from over his shoulders. I will miss that sound. There is a wardrobe in the bedroom and I tell him to get inside and be quiet. He is good and does as he is told. I guard it, singing nursery rhymes to him, until I hear them coming upstairs, moaning and hungry for flesh. I scream and throw myself to them. I pray my brother will stay quiet.

• Copyright: © 2006 Jo Skead