Far Horizons: Tales of Sci-Fi, Fantasy and Horror. Issue #20 November 2015 | Page 78

of interest in the room, but the locket is enough to
convince them to look further. We return downstairs,
stopping near the cupboard. I seize my chance and
push with all my mind and strength. Susan stumbles
and falls against the heavy cupboard doors.
“Damn! What the… ?” She starts to struggle to
her feet then stops. “What’s in this cupboard?”

every vile memory, every moment of pain, suffering
and degradation. I try to focus on the search for
valuable clues. I follow the path of Susan’s torch as
it dances across the dismal room. Darren begins to
search the furthest corner of the basement, the corner
where I was forced to sleep and provide satisfaction.
His torch hits the lumpy mattress, illuminating it like a
star in my bad Hollywood movie.

Darren shrugs. “How would I know? Open it
and find out.”

“Oh my God, check this out!” I’m sure I detect
a tremor in his voice. Fear? Excitement?

“Shit, you can be rude sometimes!”
Darren grins in the gloom. “Part of my charm.”
“How about you use your charm to help me up
and open this damn door.”

“Maybe he kept her here,” Darren observes in
a strangely subdued voice.
Susan kneels beside the filthy mattress. She
shines her light closely and reaches across, plucking
something from its infested surface.

Still grinning, Darren obliges, hauling Susan
up unceremoniously by her arm. She brushes herself
off and glares at the offending cupboard. “Let’s open
this sucker.”

“Hair,” she says quietly. “Blonde hair.”

It proves easier said than done. Darren has to
jemmy the lock with a narrow, sharp instrument on his
keyring. Finally it shifts and the doors swing open to
reveal an empty space.
“Old Mother Hubbard, ” Darren mutters.

“A whole clump of it,” Darren notes, his voice
choking.
Susan skims the torch light over the mattress.
“There’s more,” she says sadly.
“The bastard,” Darren mutters, his eyes dark
and dangerous.

Susan jabs him sharply in the arm. “Shh. It’s
not a cupboard, it’s a wardrobe. Look!” She shines her
torch upwards to illuminate the dowelling rod above
their heads. I cheer her on. Keep looking. Test it! Look
at the wood!

“Yes, but we’ve got him,” Susan reminds him
in a soft voice. “Quick, let’s take photos and get out of
here.”

“Why would someone have a wardrobe in the
hallway? An empty one at that?” Susan frowns and
shines her torch downwards, illuminating the back of
the wardrobe. “Look here, one side is different to the
other. Thicker.” She pushes against the wood and it
slides beneath her hand, exposing the hidden basement
door. I give a triumphant whoop that ripples through
the ether.
Our descent into that dark place brings back

Susan joins him. Together they train their
torches on the loathsome mattress.

Darren fumbles with the camera and snaps off
some shots. The flash illuminates the dank basement
and the memories that dwell there. I shut my eyes,
willing it to be over. Finally, they finish and we climb
back up the stairs, slipping out the front door into
the still night. They walk in silence, each caught in
their own thoughts. I am more watchful, scanning the
quiet street as I trail behind them. I glance over my
shoulder and a movement catches my eye; a curtain
pulled aside, a flash of lamplight slicing the darkness.

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