Gate Crashers

Something is wrong.

Doing my best to peek out the window, standing on a chair that barely gets me up to its frame, I can see what mummy meant by her words. There's people on the street…more than I thought even lived in our area. Yet there's something about them. Something different. Something that stems from more than just how they stagger around, as if…drunk? Is that the word? The police officer who visited our school last week said something about drinking in his pep talk.

Mummy won't tell me anything. She's on the phone most of the time, though given her increasingly loud exclamations, using what I've been told are "naughty words," she doesn't seem to be having much luck. And when she isn't, it's either listening to the radio and/or watching TV, though I've been told to stay out of the living room. I try to listen, but the volume's been turned down too far for my ears. In the end, all I can do is do what I've been told to do and stay in my room.

Outside, the spectacle continues. There's more people on the streets now, all of them…groaning? I don't do it much (all my teachers say I'm a polite little boy), but I can recognize the sound. It's almost like the sound all the class makes when story time ends. Yet it's louder…more sustained…and for reasons I can't put my finger on, frightening. I'm glad that there are other sounds to break up the groaning. Fireworks are going off somewhere, even if there's no light in the autumn sky. Odd really, because there's so many bangs, so much continuous sound of fireworks, it seems impossible that I can't see them. Or maybe cars are backfiring…whatever that is.

Finally solace arrives.

Part of why mummy's been worried is that daddy hasn't come home yet, not to mention that she's been unable to get him on the phone. But looking out my window, I can see a figure walking, or rather staggering up to the door. Daddy perhaps? Certainly it's a bit late to have visitors. Regardless, I stay in my room, even as he knocks on the door. I'm not meant to answer the door at this time. It's too dangerous apparently at this time of night for some reason. Something to do with the cannibal murders the police officer mentioned last week…whatever a cannibal is. Neither my parents nor teachers would tell me. But maybe it's a moot point, as mummy answers the door.

"Yes, can I help-…"

Mummy doesn't finish her question for some reason. But sitting on my bed, I have an idea what might be the cause as a high pitched scream rips through the house, followed by a few "whump" sounds. Sounds that prompt me to get off my bed and head downstairs, bar the consequences. Mummy told me to stay in my room. But if something's happened to mummy, what then?

I don't know. All I know is that mummy is lying on the floor with a lot of blood around her, a stinky man on top of her…doing something. And although part of my mind tells me to be quiet, to not draw attention to myself, this scene, coupled with even more stinky people shuffling through the door prompts me to scream. Loudly. Loud enough for all the stinky people to look up simultaneously and begin shuffling up the stairs after me.

For a moment, I do nothing. I see their rotting faces. I smell…whatever that smell is. I feel the wood of the banister, grasping it like a lifeline. I hear their quiet footsteps. And while I do not taste anything apart from mounting bile, I do not want to. I just stand there. Staring. And it's only when mummy rises to her feet, only to shuffle along with them, staring at me with pale, glassy eyes, that I run up the stairs and into my room.

I'm scared. They're coming after me. There's no lock on this door-it was removed when I fiddled with it too much, locking myself in my room whenever carrots were served at dinner. But it doesn't matter. Daddy will be here soon. Daddy will save me.

…

…Daddy? Mummy?

…

…Help me…