The Devil of the Damned

Amber’s knees buckled and sank to the ground as she tried to take a step forward. She leaned ahead, in an attempt to get up, but her body felt heavy and she fell back on her knees.

“How long, Mama?” she asked, her voice weak, barely audible. Carrie pulled her arm, picking her up and steadying her back onto her legs without an answer. The world is never on a pause for the poor. A world devoid of love. But how could she explain it to the four year old? Little Betty lay on her shoulder, her tiny arms wrapped around her neck. Her baby eyes had a shade of beige, matching her little dress smeared with grime, made from a burlap sack. Amber wore the same, just a bit bigger. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes drained. Hungry and homeless. Starvation, the cruelest curse to be bestowed on mortal souls. The devil of the damned.

“Mama, where are we going?” Amber asked, her hands cupped on her calves, as if it could help lessen the pain. The ruffling winds waved the tree branches, as if welcoming the nocturnal ghosts that roamed in the darkest of nights. The sky was cloudy, pitch black, not a petty star on sight. Carrie shifted Betty to her other shoulder, brushing aside her tangled hair that battled with the furious wind. Her head was constantly turning left and right, trying to catch the sight of something. Just something.

The gale gave out a savage roar, as if it held the reins of a thousand monsters. Her fast feet came to a halt as the sound of a banging wooden plank caught her ears. Faded words of “For Sale” were marked on it as it hung, tied onto a doorknob, mutedly begging for new owners. For once, Carrie stood there, her eyes fixed on the jilted room built of grey-weathered logs. A saviour from the eerie night. Her face showed no emotion as she said without meeting their eyes, “Welcome home, kids.”

The old latch, probably rusted in time, crumbled to fine orange-brown dust as she worked on the knob. Her jaw tightened as she pushed the door gently inwards. It made a peculiar creaking noise, revealing a small room with ivory walls. Hairy crab-like spiders spun around the walls in circles, while some rested comfortably on their perfectly knitted beds of spidroin. There was a brown upholstered couch torn in pieces as if a clowder of cats scratched it from one end to another in a moment of utter rage. A pink curtain, worn out by age, loosely fluttered towards the direction of the wind. Behind the room was a three faced attachment of what seemed like a cubicle. A little room under a flat roof, with a cabin attached. A luxury.

Amber and Betty lay on the couch, running their hands on it's soft brown covers. Carrie used her right arm to brush off the spiderwebs, while the left rested under her nose, guarding her from the choking dust. Her bronze hair was messy and unkempt, but they didn't seem to bother her. Putting it up in a tight bun, she massaged her wrinkled brow with her fingers, hoping they would suppress the headache. Her eyes wandered curiously to study the little cubicle that stretched behind. The walls were decrepit with cracks running down to the grounds. Carrie traced the lines with her finger and rubbed off the dust with her thumb. In a flash, within the bat of an eye, loud screams from Amber and Betty echoed, forcing her to run back to the room instantly.

She dashed to the other side, stopping abruptly to find a gigantic rat sitting on the couch between the two girls. It stared at her for a moment, locking it's basalt eyes with her dark golden ones, then scurried tout de suite between her legs and out the room.

“Oh Mama!” cried Amber jumping out of the couch eventually, putting her arms around Carrie. Little Betty, though her legs failed to support her, crawled on her shapeless knees, trying in vain to get hold of her mother's dirt smudged hem.

“Mama’s here, Mama’s here,” she said, her arms girdled around their waists, holding them close, wrapping them in a tight hug. She patted Amber, drawing circles on her back. Should I really do this? She asked herself twice and the thought of it made her stomach churn. Her chapped lips pressed into a thin line as she slackened her clasp. Hunger began to gnaw her bones and her stomach rumbled like an angry wild dog.

“Where are you going, Mama?” Amber cried, clutching her mother's hand, their fragile fingers entwined. Carrie rubbed her tears with the back of her fist and kneeled down to her height.

“Mama will be right back,” she said, cupping her hands over Amber’s shoulders, “Promise.” She rubbed her little nose with her own forcing a smile on her face. A babbling Betty made sounds of demurral as Carrie made her way out of the room. Amber crouched and stared silently at the damp ivory walls. It looked as if the walls held a mysterious malady within. The air had a scent of decay. The place, a sick innuendo. She just didn't like it.

Carrie didn’t make the slightest of noises as she sidled cautiously near the corner of the cubicle. It sat scooched, fat and fubsy, it’s broad silken spine turned to her, nibbling onto some chunk of food. A short glance of it made it seem like a giant cotton ball of shining black. Oh, even Betty seemed dwarfed!

Carrie rolled up her sleeves and stuck out her tongue. Taking a step back, she ran forward on a wee sprint and vaulted straight on the rat. Her fingers slid through it's heaven-spun coat of fur, one hand struggling to shut it’s muzzle. The rat tried to free itself from her grasp, letting involuntary yelps, shuddering the girls next door.

“Nice to meet you Mr. Rat,” she muttered under her breath, “How about being our ratatouille?” Her hands worked on it’s neck, pressing it’s nose button against the ground, choking it to death. The rat squeaked, turning it’s body over and cocked it’s head, biting Carrie’s first three fingers. Her hands rose up to her face impulsively as she covered her mouth to stifle a shriek. Instantly, the rodent sprang to it’s feet and scampered adeptly into the hole that led to it’s mysterious world underneath. Sucking her bleeding fingers, she turned to catch it’s long pink stippled tail with her other hand, but the rat had escaped already. Her brow burned as she pulled a long deep breath, sending oxygen to her muscles. She rolled into a ball, her bony shoulders heaving as she sobbed silently, striking her forehead and cursing under her clenched teeth.

“Do you have any mercy at all?” she asked, her fingers twisted, staring at the tiled roof. Through the cracked glass skylight, she saw a tiny star rise up in the dreamy curls of the graphite black skies. Just a dainty dot, yet so lucent. The petty light it produced, unveiled the darkness near the hole where the rat had convulsed into. Carrie tilted her head, running her tongue on the cracks of her lips when something caught her eye.

A partly nibbled nugget of fresh cheese lay near it’s edge, shaking doubtfully, whether or not to fall into the hole. A small tear trickled down her sick purple socket and a leaden smile spread on her face as she inched forward to pick it up.

“Oh, thank you, Mr. Rat,” she said, scratching her head, her eyes fixed upon the cheese nugget. Another star rose up near it. Another little dot. Another little glimmer. A glimmer of hope.