The Spotty Torch
Stories similar to this that you might like too.
I was tired all the time, but I wasn’t used to getting much sleep. The next morning after a good feed and drink, they sent me out with one of my brothers in tow as a bodyguard.
“Watch your back,” said Stumpy. “It’s not safe here.” He looked nervous and strained. Like he was about to have an accident somewhere.
I had no idea what on earth Stump meant by that. We went through the forest, our shadows stretched long behind us like dark claws against the grasses. It took hours for him to find anything interesting, which made sense really because it hadn’t rained properly since we’d been captured.
All I wanted was some water from the streams or at least for them to let me drink from one of their canteens. But the only thing Stumpy found was a dead dog that had died from something called pox and his own shadow. My brother was strange sometimes.
On the other side of the valley, Stumpy pointed up into an old ruined castle in the center. There were more buildings than you could shake a stick at towers, turrets, and walls, all crumbling apart. Some still contained sections of the wall; others just had piles of rubble where they used to stand upright.
We clambered over the broken gates – the doors were gone so no way in there without breaking in – and entered. Stumpy put his hand around my neck again to help balance while he climbed stairs, pillars and ladders with ease, looking left and right every few seconds to make sure we didn’t get lost.
As we walked along corridors, we heard things moving above us. Dogs running through tunnels, rats scurrying across passages, bats fluttering through empty rooms, and owls hooting out of holes in the stone ceilings. And of course, humans call each other names and curse.
It sounded like everyone hated their job here and no one knew what they were supposed to be doing. Then Stumpy pointed down to a small room with a door on its left side. His finger started shaking when he got nearer to the window overlooking the outside world.
“That’s what I don’t understand,” said Stumpy. “Why is it still standing? A giant bomb dropped near here?”
I stared at the place where he indicated and saw nothing. It was covered in moss, leaves, grass, and all kinds of shit.
Stumpy pointed at me. “They are only animals. They will have eaten everything here to survive. Nothing survives an explosion. I’m surprised there aren’t skeletons everywhere. This place must be centuries old.”
I realized then that this whole place was older than even my family. Everything here was ancient, like this old, wooden sword I found. Just looking at it made me feel sick to my stomach. When I was little, I used to imagine a monster living inside it, but I never dared touch it, not in case it turned out to be true.
Stumpy touched the window. “It has to be years since anyone came here.” He squeezed his hands tight together as if praying for answers. “Are you scared, Spotty?”
“No. No more than usual.” I knew we wouldn’t find the answers to any of our problems in these ruins. And I didn’t want to know how many spiders were crawling around up there, waiting for us. But Stumpy seemed full of excitement, like a kid before Christmas.
“Let’s go see who lives here.” Stumpy grinned with excitement.
For a moment I thought Stumpy was going to try to climb out of the window, but he settled on pushing against it and then rubbing his hands together. He told me how impressed he was that this old relic was still standing when all the others he passed had collapsed completely. “If we could build stuff like this today, we would conquer the world.”
He rubbed his face, clearly thinking hard about the problem. “Okay, we need to think bigger. How do we start?”
His question threw me sideways. The only thing I knew how to do in a crisis was run. Or hide. “Start where?” I asked.
“A plan!” Stumpy gave me another one of those looks. “How do we know the people in charge don’t come here themselves? So we can’t say hello?” He waggled his eyebrows.
“Oh, God! That makes sense.”
Stumpy scratched his head and frowned. “So why won’t they return my calls?”
My mind clicked over several times. Maybe we had a chance to escape now? “You’re being stupid. Everyone hates you and they don’t know you. Why would they invite you in?”
“But I’m famous. Everybody knows who I am.” Stumpy looked embarrassed as he lowered his eyes and hung his head. “I’m sorry. You don’t need to remind me.”
I watched him for a couple of seconds as he searched the ground for something under the trees. Something shiny. Anything! Finally, he pulled a piece of cloth from between the roots and held it out for me to look at. “What’s wrong?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know.” He picked it up and rubbed the dirt off with his hand. “It looks like someone died. Have you ever seen anything like this before?”
I shrugged. “Look. Your family has killed plenty of people. Couldn’t have been them. We’ve never found bodies.”
Stumpy jumped up and ran towards the tree line. When he reached the edge of the forest he stopped and peered behind. “This isn’t funny, Spotty,” he whispered. “I didn’t kill her!”
“Don’t shout! You’ll attract attention.” I heard sounds coming closer fast, footsteps running swiftly up the slope. I backed away and Stumpy grabbed my arm and yanked me back. Then he pushed me into the bush, behind the bushes and his clothes. As soon as I was hidden, I crawled forward.
Behind us lay a long stretch of barren land with scattered stones and boulders. At the far end of the field sat an old fence made from rotten wood. We watched as four men raced across the open space, their faces twisted up in a panic. One man raised his fist and began to wave as he screamed out loud.
Then the first two men hit him from different sides as he fell to the floor and started kicking his legs. Two more men appeared next to them, watching.
The one who’d been waving his arms suddenly sprinted towards the edge of the fence, jumping high and grabbing hold of it. He swung himself down and landed heavily on the other side. His friends joined him moments later.
Stumpy held me tightly. “They are dead. I felt them die.”
“Who are ‘they’?” I was confused. Who else had we killed that needed burying?
Stumpy shrugged, his eyes closed tight. “I’m sorry.” He began to cry.
I wanted to tell him it was okay, but I didn’t dare move. Whoever these guys were, whoever they worked for, I wasn’t risking a single sound or movement until we were clear of here. I put my finger in my mouth and bit down so hard it hurt. My heart pounded loudly and tears streamed down my cheeks.
***
We kept quiet on the way home. Stumpy sobbed as we walked through the village. I couldn’t stand to look at his pathetic face anymore, so instead I focused on the buildings around me. It was just after midday and the shops were packed with customers buying food supplies.
They spoke quietly, or said nothing at all, while their children wandered along with shopping bags dangling by their side.
Every time I saw a child that reminded me of Joanne, I would freeze. I’d turn slowly, trying not to draw attention to myself. The kids looked different from how I remembered them looking. Their skin seemed paler. Their hair was lighter and brighter than when I left.
Only one person caught my eye. A little boy, no older than six years, stopped walking ahead. He stood there staring at Stumpy, crying softly and clutching a teddy bear to his chest. His parents hurried past with bags full of groceries, carrying on oblivious.
It took all my willpower not to go up to him and give him some money. To offer whatever help I could. But even though it pained me greatly, I had to stay silent. There was too much danger if anyone realized what I knew about their daughter. Not just to me, but to my brother and Stumpy too.
As we approached our house, I spotted a new sign hanging against the wall on the front porch. It was painted bright red with big black letters. It read: TONY WATKINS GONE.
Tony? Gone?
Stumpy covered his mouth and stumbled backward. “What did you just say, Spotty?”
“Nothing! Just forget it.” I walked faster.
“Don’t worry about it, mate.” Stumpy followed closely behind.
I glanced over my shoulder to see Stubby staring at the front door. “Who wrote that?” he asked.
“A few weeks ago,” I replied. “His family moved away.”
Stumpy nodded, still looking sad and confused. “Did they bury him?”
I shook my head. “No, they sold the house.”
I wondered why anyone would choose to move away and sell everything right after their husband and father died. Maybe Tony’s wife hated him like everyone else did. Or maybe she was fed up of being lied to. I wasn’t going to ask any questions.
By now, we were halfway up the path, only a small distance between the gate and the front door. I took a deep breath and slowed my pace down to a gentle walk. Then I opened the gate and stepped onto the grass.
“You don’t need to be scared, Stumpy,” I told him. “Tony won’t hurt you.”
He shook his head. “Not sure.”
My stomach jumped in pain. “Maybe it’s not him. Did you check?”
“Sure have. I went up to his room and he wasn’t there.”
“Well…what do you think it is, then?”
Stumpy wiped his nose with his shirt sleeve and pulled his baseball cap low over his forehead. “Can’t figure it out yet. Let’s get inside.”
I led the way toward the front door. As soon as we passed the flower-lined wall, I froze. What the hell was that? I took my phone out of my pocket and shone its light onto the ground.
It was dark mud. It was everywhere, splattered across the lawn, smeared on the brickwork, and coating the window sills. We looked at each other in horror.
The End