A competition entry, the theme was discovery. I wasn’t a finalist sadly so I’m now able to share it. This is the longest short story I’ve written.
The Wardrobe
Judith straightened her skirt and took a deep breath. She pushed open the door and blinked in shock at the lights coming on.
‘SURPRISE!’ Came the shout from most of her colleagues; all except those who were on call or visiting clients. The party for her leaving had been the worse kept secret at work in years, but she took it in good humour and acted pleased to see everyone, and astonished that such a party could have been organised without her knowledge.
She appreciated the cake, the gifts, and the cards; even the huge banner across the room with photos of her from the last ten years as a care manager, including the rather embarrassing one from when a client had torn her shirt off early in her career. She didn’t appreciate the impromptu rendition of “Hey Jude” as she left the offices for the last time, strains of which still hung in the air as she climbed into her car. How she hated that song!
Judith wasn’t happy to be leaving. She had worked her way up to care manager the hard way; starting as a care assistant, and felt that it had all been a waste of time now, as she prepared to return to Hockingborough Hall; her childhood home.
Hockingborough was once a children’s home run by her parents at the time Judith was growing up. She remembered fondly the many children she could call her friends, but not so much the building itself; a vast, sprawling, crumbling manor house with long dark corridors, creaking floors, and huge windows that were dressed with dusty heavy velvet curtains.
Over the last fifteen years it had been a nursing home for the elderly; her aging parents unable to run around after unruly children. They had employed a few local staff for a pittance until its closure six months ago. Now her parents had called upon Judith to stay with them in their dotage. At least she had plenty of bottles of gin to keep her company on those long, lonely nights in the dusty old place, she thought with hint of irony as she squirrelled them away for the journey. Daughter’s ruin.
Judith packed away the final pieces of her life, closed the storage locker door, and turned the key in the padlock. She didn’t know when she would be needing these things again. She hoped that it wouldn’t be long, and she can put Hockingborough on the market. The professional part of her wanted her parents to move to a purpose built home, where their needs would be met, the sentimental part wanted as they did; to die in their own home. Either way her work and her life were set for the foreseeable future; dogsbody, scullery maid, cook, cleaner, carer, property manager. The list was daunting enough, without the foreboding fear that lay deep within her. She shuddered as she thought of the childhood monsters that had plagued her nightmares, then laughed them away; they were nothing more that figments of an imagination fed by the threats against misbehaviour and rebellion. At thirty-six years old, midway through a successful career, she had no need to fear those things any more.
Judith packed the last box into the car, ensuring there was just enough room for tonight’s outfit, her wash bag, and the cat box; Minerva was strictly a house cat, living as she did, in a small flat in a large town. She would find a new freedom with the halls and corridors of Hockingborough to prowl.
Then Judith went in to shower and get ready for a last night on the town with her girlfriends. Unusually, she had picked a short skirt to wear. She no longer had her profession to think about, and she was damned if she was going out as “Miss Prim” on her last night; there were cocktails to drink, shots to down, possibly even a man to pick up. Judith wasn’t going to be around town after tonight, so she didn’t care.
Hockingborough Hall loomed menacingly ahead as Judith travelled the long driveway. The lovely young trees she remembered lining the approach to the house were now gnarled and twisted, and ivy caressed the gates that rattled and grated as they opened for her little Clio. Still, the views were the same, lovely rolling hills in the distance, beyond the wide flat floodplains of the Levels. Winter sunrises she always remembered as magical, with mists reflecting golden light off of the many streams that criss-crossed the landscape. The Hall and the road leading to it were built up above the plains, protecting them from the floods that plagued the area. Long since reclaimed from the sea, the Levels regularly flooded; the ancient drainage no longer able to withstand the climate-change driven deluges, and building techniques of the twenty first century.
Given its remote situation, Hockingborough Hall would not have looked out of place in a horror movie; one of the ones where a couple on their honeymoon break down on a wet stormy night and see a light in the distance, they ring on the doorbell and something resembling Frankenstein’s monster answers the door.
Judith laughed at the thought as she rang the doorbell. It played “Bye Bye Blackbird”. The ornate doorway had given over to crumbling plaster and creeping vines, and sign announcing that this was “Hockingborough Nursing Home” had half fallen away, suggesting she was at “Hocki Nursi Ho”. Judith had to stifle her giggles as the door opened with a loud creak, and a small unimportant looking woman stood, dwarfed by the huge door.
‘Yes?’ said the woman in broken English.
‘I’m Judith. Mr and Mrs Jameson’s daughter’
‘Oh! Oh, please to come in. we’ve been awaiting for you’
‘Thank you. You are?’ Judith left the sentence hanging, hoping that the woman would answer, but the subtlety was lost on her, as she scurried around.
‘Your parents are through in the sitting room, they are, um, sitting. It’s this way.’
‘I know the way. Thank you. I didn’t catch your name?’
‘Oh, sorry. My name is Kassia. I keep house for your father and mother. They let me stay here’
‘Nice to meet you Kassia.’ Well, thought Judith, at least I can strike housekeeper from my list of duties.
An old familiar feeling of doom settled upon Judith as she walked the passageway to the Sitting Room. Inside, yellowing ornate wallpaper was just visible through the blue haze of her father’s cigar smoke. Halfway down, a dado rail ran along all four walls, below which once-mahogany, worm-ridden wooden cladding clung to the crumbling plaster. The carpet was threadbare from the feet of many children and the wheels of wheelchairs.
Before her sat Mr and Mrs Ernest and Phyllis Jameson. Proprietors of Hockingborough Children’s Home, and Nursing Home. Phyllis sat with her back to the door, Ernest to her right. A trail of smoke rose from Ernest’s chair. They were both reading newspapers.
‘Mum. Dad.’ Judith said resignedly.
‘Oh. You came then. Come to protect your birth-right I suppose.’ That was Ernest. A world-weary grumpy old man.
‘Now Ernest, no need to speak to your daughter like that.’ Phyllis was a fussing woman who wore her airs and graces for all to see. I’m your daughter too, thought Judith bitterly. She was already regretting her decision to care for her parents. ‘Kassia has made up your old room, but if you want one of the others you’ll need to make it up yourself dear,’ Phyllis trying to sound welcoming ‘dinner is at six, in the dining room.’ And with that, Judith felt she had been dismissed. Not once did either of her parents turn and look at her.
‘Thank you. See you at dinner. I’ll see if Kassia needs any help.’ Judith turned and left, heading for her old room.
Kassia was just finishing unpacking Judith’s car, and was immediately criticised for doing so: ‘I would have done that,’ admonished Judith, ‘there’s no need to wait on me.’ Immediately she regretted her terseness. ‘I’m sorry, it has been a long day, and I was out late last night.’ Remembering her night out with her friends, a brief smile flickered across her face.
‘Oh, you have a good night out?’ Kassia asked
‘Yes, it was a very good night. Now, let’s get these things down to my room and I’ll help you with dinner.’ She let Minerva out of the cat box and lifted her up, soon the animal jumped from her arms and scurried away.
Judith’s room hadn’t changed. There were still the posters on the wall, and the outdated duvet cover on the bed. The wardrobe loomed in the corner. Judith avoided the wardrobe and put her cases down beside the chest of drawers.
‘I’ve always hated that wardrobe. Mother always told me there was a monster who lived in the wardrobe who would get me if I didn’t go to sleep. Stupid stories’ Kassia gave a nervous little laugh and Judith continued; ‘and there was the duvet monster who was supposed to cut my feet off if I slept with them hanging out of the covers, “Pipes” who would make a howling noise when you flushed the cistern at night, and the Toilet Dragon, who would come and get you if you left the seat up. My parents were evil. I suspect they still are. Sorry, I’m ranting. What’s for dinner?’
‘It’s OK, I used to be told these stories as a child too, but in Poland we have different monsters. I am to make a toad in the hole for dinner, you don’t have to help me.’
‘I want to,’ said Judith, ‘besides, it will help clear my head of these silly monster stories.’
After dinner was done with, Judith and her parents sat around the table. The two women talked while Ernest harrumphed about there not being enough port, and wanting a cigar, and why wouldn’t Phyllis allow him to smoke in the dining room. Eventually Judith made her excuses and retired to her room.
The first thing wrong that Judith noticed was the wardrobe door open just ajar. She was certain she hadn’t opened it. Perhaps Kassia had opened it for some reason. Judith closed the bedroom door behind her and pushed the wardrobe door shut before undressing for bed. The next thing was a feeling like she was being watched. She knew that there weren’t any spy holes in this part of the house, but did a cursory check anyway, and found nothing. Pushing away her insecurities and dismissing them as just not wanting to be back at the house, Judith climbed into bed. It was a warm night, so she laid only half under her quilt. She was just drifting off to sleep when she heard the wardrobe door creak. She figured the catch was broken and let it be; she can fix that in the morning.
Again, just before she succumbed to sleep, Judith felt something brushing up against her leg. Again she explained this logically; perhaps it was a breeze from the window, or Minerva come back from her wanderings, and without conscious thought she pulled the quilt closer to her.
Later, in the small hours of the morning, Judith got up to use the toilet. Automatically she closed the lid and flushed the cistern.
‘HOOOOWWOOOooo’ The noise sent a shiver down her spine, and she caught herself thinking she was glad she had closed the lid. What she wasn’t prepared for was the faint sounds of coughing and spluttering that followed. Judith cursed herself for waking her father, and left the bathroom, in case her help was needed. Both her parents were asleep in their room. Judith returned to hers.
Inside her room, the door safely closed, Judith noticed the wardrobe door was open again. Thinking again that she must fix the door in the morning, she retired to her bed and slept until dawn.
During breakfast, Judith asked her father if he had been up in the night, as she was certain she heard him coughing.
‘I heard Pipes in the night, coughing as always.’ Came her father’s reply.
‘Father, I’m thirty-six years old.’ She fixed him with a cold stare; ‘I really don’t think I’m going to be frightened by your silly stories about monsters under the bed. Now if you don’t need me here, I shall go back to work and continue my career.’
‘We don’t need you to look after us, we have Kassia to do that. We need you to look after the others.’
‘Others? What others?’ Judith was becoming impatient now.
‘You’ll see.’ And with that her father got up from the table, leaving Judith confused, and more than just a little annoyed. She finished her breakfast and went to her room. She was at least going to move to another room in the house, away from the broken wardrobe. Curse her parents. The Others. What was he on about? Had the old man had finally lost it? Well, they can stay here with their “Others” and Kassia. Judith resolved to pack her things and drive away from Hockingborough Hall for the last time.
Inside her room Judith looked for her bags. They weren’t where she had left them. Finally spotting them on top of the wardrobe she pulled up a chair, climbed up to pull them down.
‘Boo!’ Judith was so surprised she nearly fell from the chair. Sat, cross-legged on top of the wardrobe was a small furry creature with long fingers and curled up nails. It was the size of a small dog, the fur was matted and grey. It had long arms and legs, and clouded eyes.
Judith grabbed the creature by the scruff of the neck and dragged it from its hiding place.
‘Ouch! Gently! I’m old and frail! No need to treat me so rough!’
‘Who, no, what, are you?’ Judith demanded.
‘I’m Wardy. You know who I am.’ Its voice was crackly. ‘I’m old now, ancient. Weak because there are no children here to give me strength.’
‘Wardy. What kind of a stupid name is that? You still haven’t told me what you are.’
‘I’m the wardrobe monster. Don’t blame me for the name lass. You named me.’
‘You don’t look like a monster. And you’re not scary. Are you going to tell me that Pipes, the Toilet Dragon, and the Quilt Monster are all real as well? No, this is a dream, and I’m going to wake up and you won’t be here.’
‘If this were a dream, I’d be stronger than this, because you would still be afraid of me, but no, you just thought the door was broken.’ Wardy sounded dejected and sad. ‘And, for your information, look over to the bed.’ Judith looked. There, on the bed were three more creatures. And she could identify each one of them, only they looked a hundred years older than she had imagined them as a child.
Pipes, on the left, looked like he had been assembled out of old pipework by a child. Only this creature was rusty, and moved stiffly. He raised a coppery arm and gave her a half-hearted wave, showering the bed with powdery rust.
The Toilet Dragon was in the middle. Green and scaly as you’d expect a dragon to be. There was a distinct damp patch underneath him.
That meant that the strange looking beast on the right must be the Quilt Monster. He looked like a cloth cuddly toy. Only he wasn’t cuddly. The cloth-like skin was worn and patchy. Unlike how Judith had imagined him; a mean toothy beast; he actually looked like an old man with no teeth at all.
Judith became aware of a pain in her arm. Wardy was digging his claws into her flesh.
‘Pinch you and you don’t wake up miss. It’s ‘cos you’re awake already.’ Judith hurled the creature at the others sending them sprawling for a moment.
‘You’re telling me you’re real. The monsters from my childhood are real. And old.’
‘We’ve always been real’ the Toilet Dragon spoke in a bubbly voice, like he was speaking under water. ‘But we’re old and weak. We need fear to keep us strong, and since the children left there has been nobody to fear us. Now we need you to look after us’
Judith looked at Pipes ‘You. Were you making that howling noise in the night? And coughing afterwards?’
‘It was me’ Pipes looked almost embarrassed. ‘I got so excited. Nobody has flushed the cistern at night for years. My voice isn’t as strong as it was.’
Judith’s attention turned to the Quilt Monster now. ‘And I suppose it was you brushing against me last night.’
‘Shorry mish. I haven’t sheen anyone for sho long. I won’t do it again.’
Judith couldn’t quite believe what was happening. She had given up her life and here she was, expected to care for monsters. Monsters she believed were just a cruel joke by her parents when she was a child. Monsters who, because no-one feared them, were not really monsters, but pathetic, old, decrepit creatures.
The End?
johnnydewarinwrites 