A Husband's Haunting

The house was silent. Katrina lay sprawled out on the bed upstairs, sleeping heavily. Her copper hair curled like ribbons around her face, moving slighty with her breath. She'd left the light on for her husband Sean, though partly to her delight he had not come up to bed. Downstairs, Sean lay like a fat sand bag on the sofa. The television was still on, though whatever channel he had been watching before he dozed off had closed down for the night. The house was still.





Sean breathed deeply, in through his nose, making a slight, shrill whistling sound. One of his bare feet twitched, perhaps feeling a draft. The pictures on the television flickered and blurred. A vague image appeared there, slowly coming into sharper focus. It was the image of an eye. Not anything like a human eye, it took up the entire screen. It was perfectly round, and with a fat, swirling pupil. Worst of all, it oozed a thick, blood-like mucus. It was watching Sean... and then it was gone. The nightscreen was back on. A deep rumble began to roar through the house. A strong basssy sound, it shook the walls. The noise was pulsating, the house with it, and it was rising. And then it stopped. Sean opened his eyes and lay very still, holding his breath. Something didn't feel right.



Getting up, he knocked over a half empty bottle of beer, spilling the remaining contents accross the rug.

"Goddamn i- -" he stopped. He'd noticed the television was still on. He pulled the plug, creating a short crinkle of static. Then he went to the kitchen.



The kitchen was unusually warm. Sean went to feel the radiator, and drew a sharp breath. Fuck! It was scalding hot. He ran the cold tap to cool off his painfull fingers. The cool water was blissfull, and Sean found himself leaning in to take a gulp from the refreshing stream. He could already feel the beginnings of a hangover, a dull ache at the back of his head, this thirst. But the water quenched that, relieving his dry throat. As he stood there gulping down as much as he could, droplets splashing off his chin, the water suddenly became thick and warm. Disgusted, he spat in the sink and jumped backward. The water looked normal. But the taste had changed too; it had tasted sour, a vile, sickening mouthful that Sean could not compare to anything he had ever tasted before. He decided it was just his imagination, turned the tap off, and headed for the stairs.



Katrina didn't stir when Sean entered the bedroom. He switched off the light, and went to get into bed. She had spread out accross the middle, and he had to move her over. She was so heavily asleep that she was a dead weight and he struggled to make room for himself. As he tried to lift her legs, a sound from the landing made him stop and listen.

"What was that?" It sounded very odd. "I think I can hear...."  it sounded like gulping. Sean quickly imagined a giant toad like thing - all mouth, and slimy. Gulping wet, sloppy gulps of... who knows what.

"Heh." He shook it off. He went straight out to the landing to see what it really was.



There was nothing, or no-one. But then, there it was again. A gulp, it came from the bathroom. The door was open slightly, the light off, but a dim hue of orange light escaped from a street lamp outside the window. Sean was stuck to the spot, but only for a moment. He went to push the door wide open. As his fingertips touched the handle, the door slammed shut. Thunk. It shocked him, and caused him to emit a small yelp of fear. Katrina still had not stirred. He thought about waking her, but managed to shake it off, telling himself his mind was playing tricks on him. His confidance returning, he opened the bathroom door, and switched on the light.

"Jesus Christ on a bike!" His eyes rolled up. There was nothing there. The bath tap dripped as it always did, the airing cupboard made a quiet humming. Feeling like a complete moron, Sean switched the light back off and turned back to the landing, but as he did so, he thought he caught sight of something in the bathroom window. He took a second look. Nothing there.

"What a tit." He shrugged, yawned, and got into bed beside his wife. As he began to fall asleep, an image flashed up in his mind. It was the same image he thought he has seen in the window - a giant, grotesque eye.



Sean slept. The morning light began to appear in the gap between the curtains. When the birdsong finally woke Katrina, she rolled over to find herself alone. Thinking Sean must have spent the whole night on the sofa, she rose and found her dressing gown. She went down to the kitchen to fill the kettle for tea, and was greeted with the sight of a sink-full of vomit.

"Euurgh... Sean!" She screwed up her nose, but filled the kettle from the tap anyway. She choes a mug from the cupboard, and a teabag from the caddy. She went into the living room. The television was still on. It was muted, and a breakfast show was on. She sighed at the mess of beer bottles on the carpet, there were many, but she was particularly annoyed by the sticky patch where spilled beer had soaked in. Sean was nowhere to be seen. When she heard the kettle boil she returned to the kitchen to make the tea. Boiling water flowed freely into her cup. A noise from the dining room made her jump. She went in, taking the tea with her.



Sean was cowering underneath the dining table, shaking with fear. He had vomited on one of the chairs.

"Sean....?" She said gently. He didn't look at her. "Sean what's going on?" She moved in further to the room and crouched down slowly to his level. He was holding himself, digging his fingernails into the flesh of his arms. He started whispering something over and over.

"I saw.... It was... I saw...."

He made eye contact with her. He crawled out from under the table. Katrina stood up too. His arms fell by his sides.

"What?" he said. Katrina frowned.

"What do you mean, 'what'?" She was disturbed by his sudden change, but more so by his hard stare. He shrugged.

"Everything's fine." He laughed. "Didn't you make me any?" He looked at the tea in her hand. She didn't take her eyes off him; he didn't take his off her.

"You were under the table Sean! Have you gone mad? And you've been sick..." She trailed off in disbelief. He shook his head, still laughing.

"It's none of your fucking business."



He had never spoken to her like that before. She was too stunned by it to reply. He came towards her suddenly, his head tilted to one side. Expecting an apology, she opened her arms to him. He must be ill. She thought. He held her tight, She realized that if he was ill he could be delerious, she supposed that could explain it. She still held the tea in her hand behind his back. He was stroking her hair, winding it around his fingers. He wound it a little too tight.

"What's the matter, Sean? Can I feel your forehead?" He held her face in his hands. His breath was warm and sour. He smelled of alcohol and vomit and... something else. She pushed him away, suddenly revolted. He smirked.

"What is it baby?" He said in a leering tone. "Don't back away from me, you little bitch." She took a step backwards from him. He took a large step forward.

"Come on now, you know you deserved that." His eyes were ice cold. She bit her lip, a tear escaped her eye. She was backing away from him. The tea, still steaming, was shaking in her hand. As she backed into the kitchen he followed her.

Stop it Sean! She felt the corner of the kitchen bench press into the small of her back. She felt behind her and, trembling, placed the tea on the bench. She felt for something to protect herself with; a knife, a frying pan... but there was nothing.

Hold still... He lurched towards her. She tried to run. He grabbed the tea, threw it over her. The scalding hot liquid reached out to grab her skin which reddened as she shrieked in pain. He grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled, hard. On her way to the ground her head met the corner of the bench, leaving it bloody, and droplets of the blood dripped from it into her eyes that were wide open, but which saw nothing any more.



It became perfectly calm. Sean shuffled his feet. He put his hand over his mouth, then took it away again. He very slowly went gulp, his throat was dry, yet sticky. He knelt down by her head and touched her expressionless face, with one bloodied eye. And the blood ran from her eye like a tear. A wave of nausia rose in him. He realized he had destroyed her. He had destroyed himself. It was the drink... he told himself. It would haunt him forever. The drink had made a monster. But underneath... he knew there was more to it. Something, he did not know what, had revealed to him a disturbing element of his own mind; a darkness that lay surpressed beneath, a monster in the obscurity.