Shed

Shed

The sun hurt Jason’s eyes when he first walked out into the early morning glare, cupping one hand over his forehead to provide a little shade. His other hand clutched his long standing pal Spot, given to him by granddad before God decided to take him up to heaven. God was busy that particular year. Not only did he take Jason’s granddad, but he also took his grandmother just a few months later, and then came back for the dog.

Spot had been with Jason for as long as he could remember. He had a hazy memory of his granddad handing the cuddly toy over and patting Jason on the head while doing so, but he must have been young because Jason couldn’t recall anything from before that time. Every memory he had from his short life included Spot. The patched up bear had become Jason’s best and only friend. The nearest neighbors to Jason’s home were ten miles down the road, and they didn’t have kids. Even if they did, it wouldn’t have made much of a difference to Jason’s life. Both he and his mother rarely went further than the front yard. That right was reserved for Jason’s father, often cursing as he walked out the door either on his way to work or to the bar in the nearest town.

Jason moved away from the door, taking small steps into the back yard. The concrete felt cool and hard beneath his bare feet, before being replaced by a moist and soft texture as Jason moved onto the dew covered lawn. His eyes had adjusted to the brightness, and he dropped his hand away from his forehead, lifting Spot up and clutching him tightly into his chest. The teddy bear had seen better days. One eye was missing and two tears, both inflicted by the dog, had been crudely stitched closed, but Jason didn’t care. He wrapped both arms tightly around the cuddly toy before sticking the thumb of his right hand firmly in his mouth.

Jason continued forward, but the steps became shorter and slower, and a faint sucking noise coming from his mouth grew louder as he worked harder at his thumb. He passed by the small wooden cross that his father had planted into the ground, signaling where the dog had been buried. Jason cried for days when Bowser passed away, and no matter how many times his mother told him that fifteen was a good age for a dog, Jason couldn’t stifle the tears. But time passed and the tears did eventually dry up, as they do, and Jason still had Spot to play with, after all.

Jason slowly eased his way passed the crude crucifix, careful not to actually step on Bowser’s grave. He snuggled Spot a little tighter as a chill passed up his spine. His pyjamas were damp, and the cool morning air climbed into the material and clung to the back of his legs and spine. Jason had become used to the feeling of wet material on his body since the nightmares started. Dreams of monsters in the closet and snakes under the bed had become par for the course. They always woke Jason up in a sweat, his pyjamas soaked in perspiration and sometimes urine. Depending on how real the nightmare was, Jason sometimes woke up crying.

Last night had been no exception. The dream seemed to last for hours as Jason tried to run away from a shambling monster, but no matter how hard he ran he couldn’t get away. With each glance over his shoulder the monster was that little bit closer, reaching out for him and clawing the air as it drew nearer. The dream had soaked his pyjamas as Jason tossed and turned in bed, moaning and shaking. But it wasn’t the dream that woke Jason.

It was the screaming coming from the shed at the end of the back yard.

The screaming lasted for a while, but grew weaker as the minutes ticked by. Jason recognized it as a woman’s scream from the pitch of the voice. It snapped him out of his nightmare, and mercifully away from the monster. But then, as the dream faded and the surroundings of his bedroom took hold, the strangeness of hearing a woman’s scream started to sink into Jason’s young mind. Still groggy, he climbed out of bed, in damp pyjamas and bare feet, grabbed Spot and crept out of his room, quietly passed his parents’ bedroom, down the stairs, and then out to the back yard to investigate.

Jason stood just yards away from the shed at the end of his parent’s backyard. It stood at the end of the lawn, sitting up against a concrete wall that surrounded the house. There were no windows on any of the four walls, just a sky light in the roof to allow natural light inside. A large metallic door provided the only entrance or exit. A heavy iron bolt was attached to the door, usually held closed by a padlock to keep Jason out. He was never allowed in there, not under any circumstances. His dad built it as a place to store any dangerous items such as power tools, pesticides for the garden or chemical detergents. Any item deemed unsafe around children was put in the shed and locked away, out of Jason’s curious reach.

The padlock that usually held the door firmly shut was not there, and the bolt was pulled out of its slot, leaving the door just closed over, but not shut tight. It was one of the very rare times that the shed was not completely shut off from Jason.
He stopped advancing, just a few feet from the shed door, and listened. The screaming that woke him from his nightmares had faded away, but the shed was still not completely silent. As Jason leaned forward, his head slightly cocked and face scrunched up as he strained to hear, he could make out a low whimpering sound coming from the other side of the door. The noise reminded him of the sounds his dog used to make before he had to go to dog heaven. They had that pained quality that suggested the source of the noise was suffering.

Jason took another couple of short steps forward and stopped again, caught between wonder and fear and what might be going on inside. Thoughts of the monsters from his dreams flashed through his mind. What if one of those monsters waited inside that shed, making noises to lure him inside, before tearing the flesh from his bones? The shed was already a strange and scary place, and thoughts of monsters looming inside didn’t help. Then again, what if the noise was being made by Jason’s mother? What if she had come out to the shed and had an accident? She could be lying inside, in agony and praying that her son or husband would find her.

But it was early in the morning, not even breakfast time. What would his mother being doing out in the shed at the end of their yard at this time of day? With that thought in his mind, the idea that his mother was safely tucked up in bed, and a monster was waiting for him on the other side of that large steel door, became more and more reasonable.

Not only reasonable, but likely.

For the first time since Jason had walked out into the back yard, squinting his eyes against the sun and clutching Spot tightly, his feet inched backwards rather than forwards. The large concrete shed mocked him where it stood. After all, the door was unlocked; Jason had no excuse for remaining outside. No excuse except for fear; fear at the darkness waiting inside, fear at the whimpering noises still emanating from behind the metal door, and fear that there might be something inside waiting just for him.

“Pleeeeaaase.....”

Jason jumped where he stood and then froze, sucking his thumb so hard his cheeks were pulled right in and his face was turning an angry red. That one word had come from the other side of the door, from the same person that had just been whimpering in pain. It was not a scream or a shout, and didn’t contain any anger or menace, instead sounding desperate and pleading.

Was it his mother?

That question tormented him. It was definitely a woman’s voice, but was it his mother’s? Jason didn’t think so. Then again, would his mother sound the same if she was lying on the floor in pain?

Jason took a step forward again, but stopped just as soon as he had started. It could be a monster playing a trick. Pretending to be his mother, hurt and needing help, just to lure the boy inside. Images of the monsters from his dreams popped into his head, and he squeezed his eyes hard and clenched his jaw as he tried to force them away. After a few seconds, Jason’s eyes opened and returned their gaze to the shed.

The concrete building was now silent. The whimpering had stopped, and no more words were uttered by the mysterious feminine voice behind the door. Just that one hopeful pleeeeaaase, and then nothing more. Jason wondered if he was imagining the whole thing. After all, his nightmares had been going on for a while, and last night’s was particularly real.

Convincing himself that the noises were imaginary, Jason began creeping backwards yet again. His eyes remained focused on the door, only closed over and not locked. The voice inside his head asked why the door would be unlocked if there was nobody inside. Jason ignored the question, preferring to get away from the shed for now and back to the safety of the house, which seemed a long way away, to sit in front of the television and watch his favorite cartoons. Soon his mother would make breakfast, waffles and a glass of chocolate milk. His favorite.

Unless that voice was real, and his mother lay inside the shed, hurt and possibly bleeding, even dying.

Jason shook his head, to rid his mind of those thoughts. Of course it was his imagination. There wasn’t anybody inside, and even if there was, it was none of Jason’s business. His dad had told him enough times to stay away from that shed, so that’s what Jason would do. The best thing would be to turn around, show his back to the unlocked shed door and walk on back to the house.

But the screaming returned, stopping Jason dead in his tracks. The high pitch made him cringe, dropping Spot and removing his thumb from his mouth as he put both hands over his ears. Then just as suddenly as the screaming had returned, it stopped again. Jason lowered his hands from his ears, and cocked his head again, straining to listen out for any other noises coming from the shed. The whimpering from before was gone, but the shed wasn't silent. That noise had been replaced by an intermittent slapping sound. Jason thought he had heard that noise before, and it took him just a few seconds until he realized where. He heard it every time they had steak for dinner. He would watch his mom working in the kitchen, tenderizing those steaks by bringing the flat side of a meat clear down on the cuts of beef, again and again.

slap slap slap slap

“Mom?” Jason whispered, his first word uttered that morning.

No reply came, just the constant meaty slapping sound, again and again.

Jason moved towards the door, now more curious than scared at what was going on behind that door. Confused thoughts passed through his mind. Was his mother in there preparing steaks for that day? If so, why was she screaming?

“Mom?” Jason asked, a little louder this time, inching forward, slowly approaching the door. He raised his right hand, reaching out to grab the open metal bolt and pull, peaking to see what was going on inside. “Are you in there, mom?”

The door let out a rusty screech as Jason eased it open, causing the slapping noise coming from inside to stop. It took Jason’s eyes a moment to adjust to the gloom inside. He could hear heavy breathing, and as his eyes adjusted he could make out two people, one kneeling and the other lying down. He wasn’t sure, but he thought he saw the one kneeling holding what looked like his dad’s hammer.

“Jason!”

The voice startled Jason and he let go of the shed door, allowing it to close back over, letting out that rusty screech again as it went. He turned and saw his mother standing just outside their house, where the concrete ends and the lawn starts.

“Jason, you get back here right this minute.”

Jason didn’t need to be told twice. He ran towards his mother, stooping to pick Spot up as he went, relieved to be moving away from the shed and whatever was happening inside. As he approached his mother, he thought she’d be mad as hell at him for snooping around the shed, but she picked him up and held him into her chest.

“You’re not supposed to be going down to that shed, Jason.”

“I know, Mom,” Jason answered. “I’m sorry.”

He lifted his head from where it was resting on his mother’s shoulder and looked at her face, seeing that she was crying.

“Mom, what’s happening?”

“What do you mean, honey?”

“I heard screaming and noises…and I saw a man in the shed.”

“It’s okay, honey,” Jason’s mother said. He watch as she tried to smile, but the tears running down her cheeks made a mockery of her quivering grin. “Don’t worry. He promised that this would be the last time.” She brushed Jason’s sweaty hair back from his forehead. “This was the last girl. He promised.”

The screech of the shed door caught Jason’s attention once again as it was pushed open from inside, and he snapped his head around to the source of the noise. A frown darkened his face as he tried to understand what his mother had said and what was happening in the shed. His mother’s fingers dug into his skin, so hard that it hurt, and her sobbing deepened, but none of it distracted Jason now. His eyes remained fixed on the shed.

A man emerged, wearing blue jeans and a khaki shirt, both of which were streaked with red marks. He held a hammer in one hand, covered in a red substance that Jason believed could only be paint. His left hand held onto something else, which he dragged along the ground behind him, out from the dark of the shed and into the morning light. Jason recognized his father.

“Mom,” Jason whispered,” what is dad doing?”

“It’s okay,” his mother sobbed. “He promised to stop after this one. It will all be back to normal after this one.”

Jason looked on silently in his mother’s arms as his father dragged a lifeless body across the lawn to a freshly dug hole just yards from where they had buried Bowser. It was the next in a long line of uneven mounds, where the ground had been dug up and then refilled, uneven and bald. Only Bowser’s grave had a crucifix, the other uneven mounds went unmarked. Jason’s father dragged the girl to the end of the row, to a hole waiting to be filled.

“It’s okay,” his mother continued. “He promised. Don’t you see? He promised. This is the last time. Then everything will be okay again.”

Jason looked on as his father took a break from dragging the heavy body, stooping over with his hands on his knees to suck in some air. After a few seconds respite, his father continued moving the girl closer to her grave. He noticed Jason and his mother for the first time, and casually threw them a friendly wave with a crooked smile.

As Jason continued to watch, he couldn’t help but notice for the first time how the monsters in his dreams looked so much like his father.