Ghosts
George Smillie
Outside the Waterloo Inn, the wind was blowing a fierce gale. Rain poured from the skies, slamming against the windows so hard that Eponine and Azelma shook with fear.
The light from downstairs had gone since Madame Thénardier had shut the door with a slam.
" 'Ponine! I'm afraid 'Ponine!" Young Azelma rubbed her head in to Eponine's shoulder. Playing the big sister role, she comforted her, despite being afraid herself.
"Don't be afraid 'Zelma, I'm here . . . hush . . ." She to, however, saw the shadows bouncing of the walls, and she to heard the creaking of the stairs. "You know what mama said, as long as papa's downstairs, nothing can get at us." She put her arm around Azelma and hugged her.
"Still . . . can we go and see papa and talk to him? I miss talking to papa, we hardly ever see him now."
Eponine frowned at the suggestion. She didn't think her father would approve of it. But when had she become such a law abider? Her father had become more and more allusive of them. It was about time they had a talk.
"Alright 'Zelma. We'll go see papa." She hopped out of bed, and picked Azelma up and walked with her down the stairs. Azelma winced at the creaking staircase, thinking of the evil ghosts underneath. Papa Thénardier had often frightened Cosette, their skivvy, horrible tales of the nightmarish ghouls living under the stairs. One day, little Azelma had been present at one of Thénardier's lectures, and the image of the ghosts had been lodged in her head ever since.
" 'Ponine?"
"Yeah 'Zelma?"
"Papa'll be there right? Not the ghosts?"
"Don't worry, papa will be awake."
As they were approaching the last few steps, Eponine quickly put a finger to Azlema's lips, silencing her. She listened intensely. A deep, sinister laughter was echoing around the landing. Soon it was joined with three others. Azelma shook like a jelly and threw her arms around Eponine, burying her head in her arms.
"Go back to bed," Eponine whispered. Obediently, Azlema quickly retreated to her bedroom. Eponine always had been the brave one . . .
She crept on to the landing, and hid silently behind a door. The laughter was a lot louder now, and brave Eponine was starting to feel her sister's fear creep through her own body. Cautiouslly, she peeked her head around the door, and what she saw, filled her with more fear than ever before.
Her father, and three other men, two of which she recognized, were standing round a table, pouring money over it, and cheering at the coins which clattered against the wood.
"We really did get that bastard, right boss?" The unknown man addressed her father.
"Yeah . . . We sure did . . ." Her father grinned viciously, staring in awe at the money on the table.
"Pity about your clothes Brujie. There's blood all over 'em." Eponine recognized 'Brujie' as Brujon, her father's 'close' companion.
"No matter Monsieur. 'Thenard,' " Brujon replied. "Blood comes right out in a wash. You really did fool 'im with that posh geezer act."
"What an idiot," the unknown man said. "Oi, where's 'Parnasse?"
"I left him outside, he's a little too young for this."
"Old enough for murder though?"
"O'course! The boy's gotta' learn some time!"
Thénardier interrupted them. "Not so loud boy's, my kids are sleepin' upstairs! I sent the Missus out to get us some ale. The only stuff we got left in 'ere is weeks old. I tell ya' we're gonna' celebrate tonight!"
Silently, Eponine returned to her room, pale as a ghost. She climbed in to bed next to Azelma. " 'Ponine, was papa down there?"
Wiping a tear away from her eyes, Eponine replied, "no 'Zelma. Papa's been asleep for hours." As she spoke, all love for her father was seeping out of her body . . .
End
George Smillie
Outside the Waterloo Inn, the wind was blowing a fierce gale. Rain poured from the skies, slamming against the windows so hard that Eponine and Azelma shook with fear.
The light from downstairs had gone since Madame Thénardier had shut the door with a slam.
" 'Ponine! I'm afraid 'Ponine!" Young Azelma rubbed her head in to Eponine's shoulder. Playing the big sister role, she comforted her, despite being afraid herself.
"Don't be afraid 'Zelma, I'm here . . . hush . . ." She to, however, saw the shadows bouncing of the walls, and she to heard the creaking of the stairs. "You know what mama said, as long as papa's downstairs, nothing can get at us." She put her arm around Azelma and hugged her.
"Still . . . can we go and see papa and talk to him? I miss talking to papa, we hardly ever see him now."
Eponine frowned at the suggestion. She didn't think her father would approve of it. But when had she become such a law abider? Her father had become more and more allusive of them. It was about time they had a talk.
"Alright 'Zelma. We'll go see papa." She hopped out of bed, and picked Azelma up and walked with her down the stairs. Azelma winced at the creaking staircase, thinking of the evil ghosts underneath. Papa Thénardier had often frightened Cosette, their skivvy, horrible tales of the nightmarish ghouls living under the stairs. One day, little Azelma had been present at one of Thénardier's lectures, and the image of the ghosts had been lodged in her head ever since.
" 'Ponine?"
"Yeah 'Zelma?"
"Papa'll be there right? Not the ghosts?"
"Don't worry, papa will be awake."
As they were approaching the last few steps, Eponine quickly put a finger to Azlema's lips, silencing her. She listened intensely. A deep, sinister laughter was echoing around the landing. Soon it was joined with three others. Azelma shook like a jelly and threw her arms around Eponine, burying her head in her arms.
"Go back to bed," Eponine whispered. Obediently, Azlema quickly retreated to her bedroom. Eponine always had been the brave one . . .
She crept on to the landing, and hid silently behind a door. The laughter was a lot louder now, and brave Eponine was starting to feel her sister's fear creep through her own body. Cautiouslly, she peeked her head around the door, and what she saw, filled her with more fear than ever before.
Her father, and three other men, two of which she recognized, were standing round a table, pouring money over it, and cheering at the coins which clattered against the wood.
"We really did get that bastard, right boss?" The unknown man addressed her father.
"Yeah . . . We sure did . . ." Her father grinned viciously, staring in awe at the money on the table.
"Pity about your clothes Brujie. There's blood all over 'em." Eponine recognized 'Brujie' as Brujon, her father's 'close' companion.
"No matter Monsieur. 'Thenard,' " Brujon replied. "Blood comes right out in a wash. You really did fool 'im with that posh geezer act."
"What an idiot," the unknown man said. "Oi, where's 'Parnasse?"
"I left him outside, he's a little too young for this."
"Old enough for murder though?"
"O'course! The boy's gotta' learn some time!"
Thénardier interrupted them. "Not so loud boy's, my kids are sleepin' upstairs! I sent the Missus out to get us some ale. The only stuff we got left in 'ere is weeks old. I tell ya' we're gonna' celebrate tonight!"
Silently, Eponine returned to her room, pale as a ghost. She climbed in to bed next to Azelma. " 'Ponine, was papa down there?"
Wiping a tear away from her eyes, Eponine replied, "no 'Zelma. Papa's been asleep for hours." As she spoke, all love for her father was seeping out of her body . . .
End