Trapped

Trapped

By Steve Laker

Violet opened her eyes and it took her a while to make out her
surroundings. Then she saw them again: Silhouetted against the closed
curtains by the bright light outside, the little monsters' heads were
bobbing up and down. Three of them pressed their hands against the
window, reaching for her.

She couldn't go to the door and shoo them away she thought, so she
remained still and silent, and could just make out their muffled
voices, taunting her. Eventually they went away, just like the last
time. This was the third time in as many days they'd tried to get her,
and she doubted she'd be able to deal with so many of them on her
own.

She lifted herself slowly from her armchair and struggled, with aching
joints to the kitchen. She squinted at the calendar pinned to the wall.
Tomorrow was her eightieth birthday, but she would be spending it
alone. Last year David, the lovely young man next door had popped in
for a cup of tea, but this year he was on holiday.

David was her lifeline. He was so kind, a handsome man as far as she
could make out, gentle and quietly spoken. She couldn't understand how
he'd made it to middle age without being snapped up by a deserving
young woman. When she had needed a doctor, he had used his telephone to
call for one. Every week he would do her shopping and pick up her
pension, and if ever she needed anything, she knew that she only had to
knock on the wall and he'd be round in a flash. He was resourceful too,
and had given her some of his camping rations when she'd run out of
something. He'd shown her his survival books, which she pretended to be
interested in, and there was even the time that he managed to catch a
rat with a trap he'd made in her kitchen.

Violet didn't go out herself as normally the lift was broken and she
couldn't manage the stairs. And those little horrors, running around
and screaming on the walkways, scared her. She'd lived here all her
life though and there was no way she would let the council move her
out. She might be a little forgetful sometimes, but she'd managed on
her own all this time, so she didn't need their help now. There was no
way she'd let them poison her with that food of theirs that they
brought round either. As long as she could still get around, and as
long as David was next door to do her shopping, she could still cook
to. He'd be back in a few days, and she was looking forward to
it.

It was three days after David had gone that the visits had started.
The first time they came, they just looked through the window and she
thought she could hear them laughing. The second day though, they were
silent and they just stared at her. That was when she'd closed the
curtains, to stop them looking at her, and they'd stay shut till David
got back. Then, he'd let himself in and they'd have a nice cup of tea
together. She'd pretend to look at his photos, and nod as though she
could hear what he was telling her of his holiday.

Safe from the terrors outside, in the sanctuary of her kitchen Violet
decided it was time for a nice cup of tea. Opening the fridge, she
realised that she was out of milk, but thought she might still have
some of the powdered stuff in the cupboard. Clambering onto a stool,
she shakily retrieved it from above the sink.

Back in her chair in the living room, she sipped her tea and squinted
at the television. It was always on as it made her feel less alone, but
she didn't like some of the things she saw on it. This must be the
local news she thought, as she seemed to be looking at the shopping
centre at the end of the road. She'd watched them build it as she had
observed from her kitchen window all those years before. Back then it
was bright, clean and safe. Now it was dirty and run down.

There'd been another mugging today and she shuddered at the thought of
what the terrible world outside had become. As she stared at the
curtains and contemplated this, she saw the shadows outside the window
again. This time there were more, and at least two of them were bigger
than the rest. They remained outside the window for what felt like
forever. She thought she heard voices, deep menacing tones, but could
not be sure. She prayed that they'd leave her alone, but the shadows
were just passing. She relaxed for a second, but was startled by a
thumping on the door. Her heart beat faster and she began to panic. She
thought of screaming, but no one would hear. She thought of opening the
door, but she was terrified of what might happen if she did. She
answered the door to no one, even David, which is why he had a key. She
so wished that he were there to protect her and chase away the demons.
She placed her hands over her ears and hummed quietly to herself,
rocking back and forth and staring at the window, creating a mental
bubble in which she felt momentarily safe. Then, just as suddenly as
they had arrived, the shapes passed back across the window and the
monsters were gone once more.

Violet finished her tea and stared at the rogue tealeaves that always
seemed to escape the strainer at the bottom of the cup. If Dear old
Joyce were still alive she thought, she'd tip them out into the saucer,
gaze at them meaningfully, and tell her not to worry. But she was
worried. She was alone and frightened. She was tired, and as she stared
at the tealeaves, she remembered the night that she and Joyce spent
alone at her parents' house when they were young. They were both no
older than twelve at the time, and Joyce had been round for tea after
school. Violet's parents had had to go out suddenly, although she
didn't know why. The two girls made the most of the novelty of having
the house to themselves and spent the evening telling one another ghost
stories. Joyce told some frightening tales and Violet had to sleep with
the lights on for weeks afterwards. Smiling at the memory of the two of
them scaring the wits out of one another, Violet gradually grew tired
and drifted off to sleep.

The nightmares returned that day though, and Violet awoke in a cold
sweat. She looked at the curtains, realising that it was now dark
outside and thought of what had happened earlier. Shaking with fear and
still gripping her tea cup so tightly that she thought the fine bone
china may shatter, her mind began to contemplate the situation. The
larger figures were adults, she thought. The shadows from earlier must
have been the children, seeing if her home was empty. Just then they'd
brought their parents with them to show them what they'd found. Now
they'd soon be back to break in. Maybe she'd be lucky. Maybe they'd
realise that she only had the television. It was her only form of
company, and without it she'd feel even more alone. But she'd let them
take it if they left her alone. She dared not contemplate the
alternative.

Then the voices returned, and now there seemed to be even more than
earlier. They were outside the window, and as she struggled to listen
to them, she could hear the deep voices from before. This time though,
as she concentrated, the voices seemed to grow and become louder, as if
there were more of them gathering and moving closer. She heard them
move away from the window and then the thumping on the door began
again. It was incessant and grew louder with every thud. Violet tried
to scream, but her mouth was dry and no sound would come out. Weeping
with fear, she curled into a ball in her chair and clasped her hands
behind her head. She wished it would all be over, and then the thumping
stopped.

Now the only sound she could hear was that of her own heart, beating in
her head. Suddenly there was an almighty crash and a gust of cold wind.
They had broken through the door. She curled herself tighter and
waited. She knew this was the end. She heard the knife come down, and
then the sickening sound of the blade impaling flesh.

Violet became aware of a hand on her arm, Its vice like grip tugging at
her hand. She lifted her head and opened her eyes, but her tears were
obscuring her vision. She was shaking as she lifted her hand to wipe
her eyes. She focused on the scene before her. Two policemen were
standing in front of her and one had his arm around a young boy. Beyond
them in the doorway, two men were crouched over another young lad,
lying in a pool of blood with her kitchen knife protruding from his
neck.

? Steve Laker, 1999 - 2000