The Rapier

THE RAPIER

By Mordecai J Banda

Mike Bentley, 12, was going to have to visit his ailing grandmother that holiday. Despite the fact that his home was practically neighbouring his grandmother’s house, he had never really bothered. For the same reason that his father and brother didn’t: She was, quite frankly strange and distant.

Though none of the trio said anything directly of the matter, Mrs Bentley acknowledged the situation. She felt sorry for her mother, and was constantly on the lookout for an opportunity for Mike to mess up in order to give him some sort of task that would trap him into at least visiting his grandmother. It happened over dinner where Tom, Mike’s brother raised a point of their grandmother. Mike had been overenthusiastic in blurting out what he thought of her. The language was so foul that Mrs Bentley had the opportunity to get both Mike and Tom to actually stay a week at his grandmother’s place. Besides the bonus of more interaction with their grandparent, it would help with the Bentley’s transfer plans to get out of Broadside. Give them more space to think and organise. The last week in Broadside had been abnormal, freak winds, lightning strikes, and a hushed up matter of a school massacre school. Numerous mauled bodies had been found in the Broadside high. From what Mr Bentley knew, apparently one had been spared from the savage mauling but had killed by a stab wound.

So Mike was going to visit his grandmother in Silver Ave, the most unaffected of the areas as a benefit. It was full of rich and dignified families. None who could actually believe in the weird occurrences of Broadside. If they did they did nothing about it, their lives had already been firmly established where they were. The only thing Mike would like about being there was the isolation from Broadside. But being with his grandmother would be something to reckon with. Tom could almost swear he was on the verge of suicide, grimly remembering one of his friends over the phone that cases of death due to boredom had actually been reported within the area.

The arrival at their grandmother’s home was cordial since she was sick and bedridden. They hugged her and mumbled how everything was fine at home, and how the missed her. Then they were led by her personal butler into their room.
Tom, at 13 was by two years the older of the two brothers. So he felt obligated to leave Mike with their bags with changes of clothes as he went outside to look for some friends with video games. Most likely to return only late at night. Mike didn’t mind too much since there was at least his brother’s game boy to fiddle with.

Despite Mike’s reservations of his grandmother, he admired the masonry of the house. It was large and structure of nostalgia, with blocky corners and finely eroded roof-tops with muted bleached beige and grey coats. It was one of the many big ones in Silver Ave. As Mike had lugged the two heavy bags he had been left with he studied the many portraits along the wall. All of them dated back to the time of muskets and horses and most depicted a youth with a sword. Under them was an alien language around the whereabouts of Latin or Greek. Mike was taken in by the detail of them all until he noticed a small and long wall platform jutting along the wall like a railing. On it were the many artefacts that his grandmother used to boast about in her more energetic days. Rings, old candle holders, pictures, pendants. All items were supposedly somehow blood related to the Bentleys. Secretly this intrigued Mike, who touched each as he passed. Finally he spotted it: a sliver dull rapier severely nicked on its blade to make an irregular saw-toothed rapier. Mike stared at it a long time, and then went up into his room.


“Darn!”
Mike had just discovered he was stuck with low class and outdated game cartridges, after finishing one slightly entertaining one. So far he had been left alone in the room, with the day vanishing beyond the large windows. His grandmother did not interfering with him. The private doctor was attending to her so he hadn’t been formally welcomed. This suited him.

Unfortunately the doctor came just around dusk,

“Your grandmother wishes to see you.” The doctor announced in grave tones. Hands clasped together like an old guru of the east. Mike felt overestimated and nervously stopped playing his game boy and rose to his feet.
“Is she okay?” Mike asked without much curiosity. He didn’t want to go and find a dead body.
“Yes, she’s stable. She wants to talk with you.”

Mike reached the ornate room bathed in darkness. Only a feeble sunlight peeked through the windows. His grandmother was perched on the bed board waiting for Mike.

“Hello, Mike.” She said. Her voice was weak but she was obviously happy to see him. She was on a large bed with flowery covers draping over her legs. She was propped up against a pearl white pillow and a bedside lamp illuminated most of her face while some of the remaining dusk light filtered through the windows. It was a strangely picture book scene to Mike. When he saw her kind face and frail body he felt a pang of guilt at how fragile she looked and how uncaring he had been earlier.
“Hello, Gran.”
“Sit down. Michael”
Mike sat down beside her. Getting nervous.
“How are you?” Was all he could ask.
“Well, there’s little chance of me recovering, my boy. And I guess that’s a good riddance to you and your family eh?”
Michael’s heart jumped and he tried to blurt out an apology or excuse, but found he didn’t know what to say to that sadly true comment. He had no idea at all how to reply. To change the topic he asked,
“You know those things you keep upstairs? The ones on the railings?”
“Yes?” She coughed into one clenched fist.
“Well, who owned the rapier?”
His grandmother’s face changed. In the lamplight Mike could clearly see her brows furrow distressfully. She coughed again and said abruptly,
“I’m tired right now, Michael, I better go to sleep.”
Michael felt bad and strangely even more intrigued, he was going to wonder why she was sleeping so early but realised it was getting dark anyhow. The game boy was finally completely useless and he went to sleep. Before he did a note was slipped under his window sill.

Leave now, for your own good.

It read. Michael turned the note over the side and it was blank. The curiosity that the note raised was too much. No fear at all. If there was a later where he could muse over his actions, he would’ve been quite surprised at his detachedness from the words of the note.
Upon receiving the note, he realised that the sender was very close. He headed for the door of his bedroom and tried opening it but discovered that it was locked. Slightly apprehensive, he frowned at it and attacked it in many various ways but to no avail: it was locked tight. He looked closer through the jamb and confirmed that it was indeed locked. Another question provoked. He decided on going to sleep but changed his mind halfway as he remembered the large window. He easily clambered onto its ledge and down using a conveniently long creeping vine that he used to shimmy to the ground. On the lawn he looked around in the surreal lighting of the empty street’s lamps and the full moon glistening on the tarmac. No wind, cars or even dogs disturbed the silence. Michael was used to this; this was a common atmosphere these days within Broadside. Besides, Silver Ave was already quiet to begin with. The cold, however, started getting to Michael. He had just been about ready to quit and go to sleep when he spotted a figure hobbling over to him. The first signs of fear invaded and he squinted to see, with relief, that it was Tom. Tom simply ignored Mike’s timid greeting and looked over his shoulder. He was breathless. That’s when Michael saw the gash on his cheek.
“Tom, what happened?”
Tom didn’t answer. He stumbled towards the door and let himself in. Before Mike could follow he was shouldered out of the way by the house butler/doctor. He was also panting and breathless. Before Michael could ask anything the doctor panted, “No time. Your brother was attacked by a dog, I saw him as I was on my way here...  Stand aside.” Michael did that and the doctor followed Tom’s wake into the house. Michael thought vaguely of how convenient the doctor had happened to be there. But his nerves were too tested with questions, persistent cold and a growing sense of dread. Before he went into the house he thought he heard the howl of what obviously was a dog. Not.

The next day Michael was surprised to see that Tom wasn’t anywhere to be seen. Michael thought that the doctor was slightly shifty when he had explained that he had been taken back home due to shock. And even more surprised when the exact reasons for the shock were not given to him, but he didn’t mind. He also had to forget about the note, and the locked door, which the doctor apologized about, saying that he had forgotten that there were guests. It was a reasonable enough explanation, and though it didn’t explain the note, it put Mike at ease. Mike was vaguely amused at the fact that for some reason he wanted for some strange reason to hear his grandmother’s story.

She happened to be strong that day. She was noticeably pale, but sitting upright. Mike noticed that her situation wasn’t critical enough to warrant drips yet. Her eyes were sunken but there was a glee in her face that Michael only so for a moment before she realised he was in his room. He arrived, making awkward greeting before sitting at her side.
“Um...  about the rapier... ” he expected her to finish the sentence off.
His grandmother didn’t help him out.
“I was wondering if you could tell me a story...  just like you used to.” Michael felt smug at how he disguised his true intention. He added a smile.
His grandmother looked at him sternly, seeing through it and yet submitting to the plea. She adopted a sad face and said slowly,
“Well, there is a story that rings one of my worn out bells.”
Her voice was already adopting her well refined story speech, Michael felt sick for the past, simpler times. But she was talking and there was no time to reflect.

There was once a mermaid.

“Whaat?” Michael was young. But he was done with those types of stories. And how did this relate to the rapier? But his grandmother did not heed his interruption. She kept on going.

She fell in love with a prince

“Haven’t I seen this in The Little Mermaid? Come on Gran... “

This is different. Way different. No happy ending here.

In this time, the details of Mermaid courtship were hard on the mermaid, and she had absolutely no chance of meeting the boy she truly desired. Who, among the fact that he couldn’t wield a trident, was two-legged and lived on land. She did, however enjoy following him throughout his journeys across the vast sea. At the time he had been in the middle of an important peace treaty. Once or twice mermaids attacked his ship and almost drowned him, by luring him and his men with their hypnotic love songs but the mermaid rescued him discreetly on all occasions. Making sure that she used her power of Song to make him forget her whenever this happened. One day the mermaids once again attacked the ship, but the crew were ready this time, who had of course noticed the two times their prince had been deposited on shore robbed of his mind and without a ship. The mermaids were captured and some were killed, others tortured. The Mermaid was one of the group, while the others sang furiously to dazzle the crew to sleep she kept quiet and gazed at the prince with burning. The prince seemed to dismiss her as a regular and left the Mermaid in silent despair. At night, however, the prince came and chopped down the nets they had been held in with his sword. The mermaids went free without a glance and the Mermaid remained to thank him. But the prince had no time and simply waved her farewell, an understanding became known that the prince somehow remembered the occasion whereby she had saved him. This gave more hopes for the mermaid.

Months passed by whereby they met. Both sides knowing there was no possible way they could bond, they kept a tradition of meeting every week. Without their knowledge both sides were becoming increasingly careless and raising suspicion among their own peers. But this didn’t cause any major problems.
The werewolf did.

“Huh?” The story had been keeping a smooth running for a while before this knew possibility kicked in. A shiver ran down his spine as he noticed his grandmother’s enthralled face. It was so alive and focused it was like she had lived the tale.

“Huh?” The story had been keeping a smooth running for a while before this knew possibility kicked in. A shiver ran down his spine as he noticed the strange, distant look on his grandmother’s face. Like she was actually remembering the events of the story...

“I’m tired again, I’m afraid. Bye Michael. How long are you staying?”
Slightly disconcerted by her sentence structure Michael took an extra second before mumbling,
“Not sure, mother said she would call.”
“I think you should leave.”
Michael thought so too. His strange cloak of detachedness had left him nakedly wishing to go home. The house felt sinister all the sudden.
He tried the phone in the house but discovered it was off line. Michael felt an eerie dread creeping along him, and he bolted to his room and shut himself in. Then ran and covered himself into his blanket. He shut his eyes and dreamt. He woke up with a scream in the middle of the night, shocked at how he had slept throughout from the afternoon, but there was no time, Michael decided then and there it was time to leave. The house was evil, Michael surprised himself at how he was coming up with these ideas, but his stomach was doing back flips. Not nervousness, but deep skin deep dread. As he packed his bags he took his brothers backpack and absent-mindedly put clothes into it. Then it hit him: if his brother had left why hadn’t he taken his bag? Why hadn’t he told him, they were enemies on social ground but not that bad. Now that Michael thought of it everything was too strange. That doctor, that note, that night, the animal noise, and the shadow that was flitting across the room...  Mike gasped in shock and looked back into the doorway, clutching his brother’s bag to his chest.
A figure stood in the doorway, it stood there, hand against the frame. Mike knew it was just an overreaction. Your heart always jumps but you’ll never see a bogeyman. You’ll always see it’s something explainable. After all its real life-

Mike almost vomited with fear. Raw fear battered him and he felt tears on his eyes. He screamed, but it was hoarse and he stared at the shadow that stepped into the room and it turned out to be his grandmother. Mike wasn’t relieved, he backed up against a wall and stared at the pale woman as she went in and sat down, looking at Mike with far away eyes. Mike saw blood drop from her mouth. She was hunched, her ears where sharp and large. Mmm, what have you been eating grandma? A very saucy burger? And what big ears you have?
Mike felt insane as his grandmother said in a hoarse voice,
“You want to hear the rest of the story?” She smiled some butcher knives.
Hey, I’m not going anywhere. Mike nodded, frozen, no hero escape thoughts, he was surprised he held onto his bladder and rectum...  Shh, granny is talking.

The mermaid and the prince continued meeting, and the werewolf came into it. Before it actually arrived, the prince’s men were aware of where the prince went every night, and they considered it something as serious as treason, the prince was put on a hushed up trail fighting for his life in court. So while he was away, the werewolf arrived, and as the mermaid foolishly basked in the moonlight coves, it attacked and bit her. The mermaid escaped with her life and retreated to her home, upon relation of the story to her family they were at first understanding. Until when the full moon came she converted into a monstrous being and ate her father, the king, and her two sisters. The other mermaids tried to kill her, but the combination of werewolf and mermaid brought power to her to new levels, they ran from her and left her in solitude. When the mermaid gained her original form she was horrified. And she buried her family’s remains...
         
Michael’s grandmother started sobbing. Hoarse sobs but earnest ones. She was crying with blood dripping from her mouth, and her eyes seemed so strange. In fact, Michael had always thought them strange, then something else hit him and Michael almost pissed in his pants. His grandmother really did seem to be remembering, it had been full moon only yesterday, and his brother had a gash, and now...

The mermaid found herself permanently two legged, and she wandered the waters that night. She went in search of the elder of the mermaid clan. He knew magic, he knew a lot. He didn’t seem scared of her when she arrived and hadn’t run away with the other mermaid clan. When she asked him if he could help, he told her that she was actually blessed, because to cure the curse was simple, and after curing it she was destined to live very long. The elder told her that on the next transformation she must eat a man and she’d be cured and given long life. The mermaid was desperate, she wanted to meet her prince again and keep on loving, especially as a normal woman now. She heeded the advice immediately. She positioned herself on the shoreline that night before the moon shone she brought herself as close as possible to a village and waited. To her perverse luck the prince found her on the shore, he approached her and seemed to be overjoyed at her human form. He started cradling her and she tried to push away, tried to tell him- but the moon burst from a cloud, and she couldn’t remember anything. Could only remember horrendous screams of a man torn apart. Could only feel the man struggle with his weapon. Could only feel the warmth of blood... She had been happy.

Michael pissed in his pants, he stood up, and through the curtain moonlight lit up his grandmother. Scars on her neck became visible. Scars of something sharp that had beat upon her neck again and again, without any hope. His grandmother froze in the moonlight, and then her eyes rolled up in her pupils to show whites. They rolled again; black. Then she growled, and retched out white stained cloth. Hmmm, seemed to have had some doctor clothes in there, I wonder whose?
Mike screamed and threw Tom’s bag at her, he bowled past her and jumped a small flight of stairs to the platform that had the ornaments on the wall. Then Mike felt his right leg buckle and break cleanly. Stupid stupid.
Mike grabbed along the lining that held the ornaments to raise himself, his sweet transformed grandmother who happened to be a mermaid roared as she became a horror.
Mike grabbed the Rapier, saw the nicked surface and went on his knees and crawled down the stairs. His grandmother was shouting, “No! I thought I’m cured! I thought I’m... ” The it deteriorated in savage hissing that echoed in the house, and Mike crawled,
Without any hope
The door was in sight, maybe he could get the neighbours. He had a sharp rapier. He could kill her. One lunge through the heart.
No hope.
Mike tried to piece it all together, the note, from the doctor, obviously. Apart from surviving, knowledge of what the hell was happening was all that Mike wanted. Where was Tom? Who was the doc-
Something pierced his ankles and Tom released his bowels in a noisy smelly rush. He struck out with the rapier and when his right arm recoiled to prepare for another slash, it was a stump, his hand was gone and replaced by torn skin and a bleeding stump.
Mike screamed and crawled towards the door. The mermaid was laughing. But Mike crawled on.
Without any hope.