Read by Math Jones
Amy liked to hide.
Whenever she got the chance, she would jump out on Mummy or Daddy. Amy always liked to hide in the cupboard under the stairs when she got home from school. Mummy would go into the kitchen to make tea; Amy always hoped for chicken nuggets but rarely got them.
While Mummy made the tea, Amy would burrow into the cupboard under the stairs. Beneath the coats and behind the shoes. She shoved the broom to one side and wriggled behind the ironing board with a soft metallic clang.
The cupboard under the stairs was dark but not totally black. Light got in under the door and around the sides. Amy hugged her knees to her chest. Daddy would be home soon and she was going to get him. She listened as Mummy clattered in the kitchen, moving pots and pans. The steady chopping sound as she cut things up. Mummy hummed as she cooked.
Amy sat in the darkness. A smell rose up around her. What was Mummy cooking today? It smelled gross. It reminded Amy of the time that Tommy from school left a sandwich in his bag for weeks until it went green and turned to liquid. All rotten and mouldy. But there was something else to this smell. Something worse. A burnt smell. Like the time Miss Jacobs lit candles for them in class and licked her fingers to pinch the match.
The smell got stronger the longer she sat there. It stuck in her throat and made her cough. Her eyes began to water and she didn’t know how much longer she could sit and hide. Then she heard the rattle of keys in the door and footsteps down the hall.
“Hi Mummy!” called Daddy. “Where’s Amy today?”
“You’ll have to find her, Daddy. I haven’t seen her.”
Amy stifled a giggle with her hands. This was the part she loved the most: hiding and waiting to be caught, to jump out on Mummy or Daddy when they weren’t expecting it. She shuffled from her hiding-place and stood behind the door. She scowled, making her scary face. She curled her fingers into claws and bent her knees ready to pounce.
She heard Daddy clumping through the living room and dining room. His work shoes clip-clopping like a horse. Amy wanted Daddy to hurry up and find her; the smell was getting too much.
Finally, she saw Daddy’s shadow block the door and the handle begin to twitch. The door swung open and she launched herself at Daddy with a roar. He squealed, his voice high and funny. He scooped her up as she jumped at him, swinging her round as she grabbed his tie.
“How’s my little girl?”
“I’m good Daddy.”
He kissed her forehead and set her down, taking off his coat and hanging it in the cupboard.
“Phewee,” he said. His face scrunched up. “What have you been up to in there Aims? It stinks!”
“Wasn’t me Daddy! I promise.”
Daddy put his face into the cupboard, taking long sniffs.
“I’ll have to take a look at this at the weekend, Sarah,” he called into the kitchen.
“What’s wrong?” Mummy asked, her voice accompanied by the sound of plates being stacked.
“Think we’ve got damp.” He shut the door and looked down at Amy. “What’s for tea Mummy?”
“Fish fingers.”
Daddy pulled a face, sticking his tongue out and crossing his eyes. “Let’s go and sit down then, kid. It’s nearly time to eat.”
*
On Saturday afternoon, Mummy went out to do the shopping. Amy and Daddy decided to stay at home and read books together. Amy’s class was reading Charlie and the Chocolate Factory and she couldn’t wait to find out what happened to Charlie Bucket. They read the book together, Amy reading the bits she could and Daddy reading the other parts, doing silly voices for Grandpa Joe and Willy Wonka. After an hour, they heard a car pull up outside.
“It’s Mummy,” said Amy. “Let’s hide.”
Daddy reached behind them on the sofa and pulled out the blanket they snuggled under in winter.
“Quick, let’s hide under here,” he said. He smiled at Amy and she smiled back. She loved playing games with Daddy. They threw the blanket over themselves and sat giggling beneath it, waiting for Mummy to come in. They looked at each other, trying to stop themselves from laughing, waiting for the sound of jangling keys and rustling bags.
Instead, they heard the gentle patter of footsteps in the hallway.
Amy looked at Daddy to see if he’d heard it too. His face was wrinkled as he listened, his head tilted on one side.
The patter got louder, moved closer. The sound reminded Amy of when Nana brought her dog Archie round to visit. She hadn’t got his claws cut for a long time and they clacked on the wood whenever he moved. This noise reminded her of Archie, but it sounded bigger. Heavier.
As they sat and listened to the noise, Amy smelled that smell again. It wasn’t as strong as it had been in the cupboard a few days before, but it was still there. Underneath the blanket, she saw Daddy sniffing too. His eyes were wide. He didn’t look happy.
“Daddy, is that Mummy?”
“No baby, the door didn’t go. I’m not sure what it is.”
The sound got closer and louder. The smell got stronger. Amy didn’t want to hide any more. It was hot under the blanket and she couldn’t see anything. She wanted to get out and run. She looked at Daddy; he was fidgeting, his fingernails digging into his palms. His knuckles were white. The footsteps moved closer to the living room.
“Do you think we should jump out Daddy?” Amy asked. She was whispering now but she didn’t know why. Daddy shook his head.
As he went to speak, they heard the lock slide across and the front door swing open. It banged against the hallway wall and Daddy jumped. He grabbed Amy’s hand and she jumped too. She smiled at Daddy and he smiled back but his eyes stayed sad. Different.
“Hello? Can I have some help please?” asked Mummy from the hallway.
Amy and Daddy sat silently beneath the blanket for the moment, still listening for the scratching footsteps. The house was quiet again.
“Guys, please. I’ve got a lot of bags.”
Amy realised she was holding her breath and let out a long sigh. Daddy’s face was pale, his forehead shiny with sweat. It made Amy scared to see Daddy like this. Normally he was funny and silly, unless she’d been naughty, but she tried hard to be good. He looked at her under the blanket.
“One, two, three.”
He yanked the blanket off. The living room was exactly as it had been before they started to hide. Charlie and the Chocolate Factory lay on the rug, her bookmark poking out, just as they’d left it. Amy went to get off the sofa, but Daddy put an arm across her.
“I’ll go and help Mummy with the bags, don’t worry about it kiddo.”
He got up and left the room.
“Finally, some help!” said Mummy from the doorway. Amy heard the clomping of shoes and rustle of plastic bags move down towards the kitchen. “Is that smell back as well? We need to get the drains checked or something. It’s disgusting.”
Amy climbed off the sofa and picked up her book. She clutched it to her chest as she walked into the hallway. Something on the floor caught her eye as she walked. She could only see it at a certain angle, when it caught the light through the glass panels in the living room door.
The hallway floor was covered in tiny scratches. A random, careless pattern that ended a couple of steps away from the living room door. Amy felt her stomach do a loop-the-loop and she suddenly wanted to be close to Mummy and Daddy. She ran past the door of the cupboard under the stairs and didn’t dare look anywhere but straight ahead.
*
On Sundays, they went to Nana’s for a roast dinner. Amy loved it at Nana’s house. She always got extra roast potatoes and they had a proper pudding. Mummy never let them have anything but fruit after their tea at home. Archie came rushing over to them when they arrived, his claws scraping on the tiles in the hallway.
The noise reminded Amy of the day before. It made her shiver. Amy looked up at Daddy and he looked like he’d been shivering too, but before she could say anything to him, he was helping her take her coat off and telling her to go and play.
It was dark when they got home, and chilly, even for October. Amy was first out of the car and hopped from foot to foot on the doorstep as she waited for Daddy to let her in. She’d forgotten to take her book to Nana’s house and couldn’t wait to read a bit of it before bed.
Amy barrelled through the door as Daddy unlocked it. The hallway was lit by the living room light. Daddy always left it on and closed the curtains whenever they were out at night. Amy knew it was to keep burglars away.
She ran into the living room and skidded to a stop by the door. Someone was hiding under the blanket on the sofa. Sitting upright, facing the door.
Amy watched the blanket twitch as the person beneath it breathed in and out. They made a snuffling noise like a pig. But as she looked at the person, she realised the shape under the blanket wasn’t shaped like a person at all. Its head had two sharp points, one on either side. The blanket jutted out from its face and Amy imagined a snout underneath it. A long mouth full of teeth like the crocodile at the zoo. Whatever was under the blanket looked tall, maybe even taller than Daddy. The living room smelled very strongly of damp and burning.
Amy squealed and turned to call Mummy and Daddy. Amy heard Mummy whimper behind her and spun round to find them both already stood there. She crept past them, hugging Mummy’s legs as she looked at the thing on the sofa.
“Get behind me girls, get out of the way,” said Daddy. His voice was high and small and trembled as he spoke.
“I’ll stay with you,” said Mummy.
“No. Go and call the police.”
As he spoke, the thing under the blanket lurched forward, jumping at Mummy and Daddy. Amy screamed and turned and ran. It was on top of Daddy. The blanket had fallen over his face, but Amy could hear him screaming. She’d never heard him scream before. It made tears come into her eyes. And then she heard the roaring. It was deep and powerful and made her legs shake. Mummy was screaming too but Amy couldn’t hear Daddy any more.
She ran up the stairs and dived under Mummy and Daddy’s bed. Her heart was beating too fast. Downstairs, Mummy’s screams stopped suddenly, and the house went silent. Amy felt tears run down her cheeks and onto the carpet.
Slow footsteps thudded on the stairs. She put her hands over her mouth to stop herself from screaming as the horrible smell filled her lungs.
The footsteps clumped across the landing, muffled by the carpet. The only light came from the streetlights outside; the whole room was drenched in yellow. Amy watched as two hairy feet appeared in the doorway. The toes were curled downwards, the nails black and unclipped. The feet and lower legs were covered in thin, black hair. Dark liquid was splashed over the feet and up the ankles.
Amy liked to hide. This time she didn’t want to be caught.
(c) Dan Howarth, 2018
Dan Howarth is a writer and British Fantasy Society Award-nominated editor of dark fiction from the north of England. Like all northerners, he enjoys pies, rain and the tears of his enemies. Check out his website – www.danhowarthwriter.com, or find him on Twitter @danhowarth20
Math Jones was born and lives in London, but lived in Worcester for many years. A pagan in the Old English and Norse tradition, he writes poetry on the stories and in the metres of that tradition. He also writes more usual verses, performing throughout the Midlands and London. A bookseller for many years, he retrained in 2008 as an actor, and has acted professionally since, including in the West End, as Math Sams. .
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