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- Story Listed as: Fiction For Adults
- Theme: Horror
- Subject: Horror / Scary
- Published: 07/26/2019
Infestation
Born 1964, F, from Gordon, ACT, AustraliaThere they go again, scratching in the walls, whispering and squeaking. Elizabeth lay in her dark, lonely bed, tears of anger and frustration in her eyes. A week it had been now. A week of being constantly woken up. She had laid traps and baits to absolutely no avail. It was time to spend some money and hire a professional.
*******
Donny Bensch of Bensch Pest Control scratched his head and looked at Elizabeth. “I don’t know what else to tell you, Mrs Goldsborough,” he said. “I’ve looked everywhere and there ain’t no signs of rodent activity. Like, nothing chewed, no poop. The only thing your damned traps caught was me!” He examined his throbbing hand, grateful that nothing seemed to be actually broken.
Elizabeth glared at him. “Well how do you explain the noises? How do you explain this mess?” She swept a hand towards the kitchen, where half-gnawed apples sat browning in the fruit bowl. A cereal box had been knocked over, its contents squashed to crumbs on the kitchen floor. A faint smell of urine hung in the air.
“Well I don’t know!” said Donny. This argument had been going in circles for twenty minutes and he was getting a headache to match the pain in his hand. “Maybe you were sleepwalking!”
Elizabeth drew herself up and glared at Donny in contempt. “And the scratching? The whispering?”
Donny shrugged unhappily. He just wanted to go home. “Maybe you’re dreaming.”
Elizabeth leaned forward, her freckly old bosom threatening to spill out of her shirt. “You stupid boy,” she hissed. “How can I DREAM when they won’t let me SLEEP?”
Donny turned on his heel and marched towards the front door, his face crimson with embarrassment. “I dunno what else to tell you, missus. You’re more than welcome to get a second opinion,” he called over his shoulder. “And go see a doctor!” He slammed the door, and drove angrily away from the property, gravel grinding and popping under his wheels.
Elizabeth watched him go from behind the curtain, then picked up the phone.
Four days and six exterminators later, Elizabeth finally found someone who would at least humour her.
Fred Massick surveyed the deep gouges on the locked pantry door, where Elizabeth had taken to storing all food items. He privately figured the crazy old bat had done it herself with a screwdriver, but the more money he could screw out of the situation, the better. If old lady Goldsborough wanted some attention, then he was her man. For a price, of course.
“Yep,” he said, nodding with authority. “Could well be rats. Maybe even possums. You said there was a lot of bumping around in the walls and ceiling?”
“Oh, Lord yes!” said Elizabeth. “It sounds like they’re throwing furniture around up there!”
Fred laughed heartily. “Yes, they’re noisy bast … uh … beasts. I’ll have a good look in the ceiling and wall cavities, see if I can spot anything.”
Ten minutes later, Fred stood in the ceiling cavity. The torch light showed plenty of dust and cobwebs, but no signs of rodent activity. He switched the torch off for a moment; no light came in from holes in the roof where a possum may have gained entry. The silence was complete, apart from old lady Goldsborough coughing discreetly somewhere below. No scratching, no shuffling, just an oppressive silence. There was a slight odour of urine, and something unidentifiably familiar, but he couldn’t catch even a whiff of the musty, slightly nutty odour of rats or possums.
He carefully worked the ceiling space in a grid pattern, looking for all the world like a short pudgy police detective looking for clues. There was absolutely nothing. Just as Fred suspected, it was all in the old lady’s imagination. Disappointing, but there was always a work-around. He fingered the small specimen jar in his trouser pocket before squeezing his way through the manhole, down the ladder, and back into the house.
Fred strolled through to the kitchen, where Elizabeth was making tea and arranging sweet biscuits on a plate, and shook his specimen jar in her face. Several large rat turds rattled around in the jar, tripping over each other.
“You’ve got some very clever rats up there, ma’am,” he said gravely. “They’re smart at covering their tracks, but I managed to find these specimens.” He rattled the little jar again, sending the rat turds dancing. “I’m really not surprised that the ... er ... normal pest control people didn’t pick it up,” he added magnanimously.
Elizabeth looked satisfyingly impressed, and she nodded her head. “Those stupid people,” she muttered. “I told them I had rats.”
“And you were right, Mrs Goldsborough! I’ll just go get some gear out of the truck and I’ll get some traps set up for you this afternoon.” Fred hustled out of the house to his truck, rummaging around for the most impressive looking equipment he could find. It was pretty obvious the old lady didn’t have rats, but even if Fred could provide a placebo effect, it was still money for jam.
He grabbed a couple of high powered floodlights and a black box that somewhat resembled a briefcase, and hurried back inside.
“Right. Now here we have a couple of sonar repellents, guaranteed to send your rats running.” Fred allowed Elizabeth a brief look at the floodlights before packing them back into the box. “And for any stubborn bugg ... er ... rats, we have this.” He opened up the case and displayed a series of blue blocks lined up neatly on the black felt inside. “Rats go crazy for this stuff. They’ll eat it and die pretty quickly.”
Fred felt six feet tall under Elizabeth’s admiring gaze, and he quickly ascended once more into the attic. He set the useless floodlights to look like they were doing something, and placed the open black box along the wide wall. Just in case the old lady went crazy and decided to scramble up into the attic herself. He then sat for half an hour, counting his forthcoming money, before rejoining Elizabeth in the kitchen.
“Well, missus, everything’s set up. You should see results pretty quickly, but please call me if you have any more trouble.”
Fred came to regret his kind invitation, when Elizabeth took him up on it at six o’clock the next morning.
“They’re still here,” she wailed down the telephone line. “Oh please, won’t you come out and have a look?”
Fred tried to sound wide awake as he promised Elizabeth he would be out by noon, awful busy don’t you know, then went back to sleep for a couple of hours.
At quarter to twelve, Fred drove up to find a hysterical Elizabeth grabbing at his sleeves. “It didn’t work, Fred!” she sobbed. “It was worse than ever! I could hear them scratching all night long, squeaking and whispering. They’re driving me insane!”
Fred clasped her grabby hands. “It’s okay, Mrs Goldsborough,” he murmured soothingly, while raging inside that the placebo hadn’t worked. “Sometimes it takes a couple of days.”
Elizabeth looked into his eyes. “Oh, Fred. Can’t you stay the night? I really need someone else to listen to these things, to understand what I’m going through.”
Fred coughed, and rubbed his face. “Oh, well now, missus. I don’t know if that’s really necessary.“
“I will pay you for your time, of course.”
“Well, it’s not a question of money,” Fred lied. “It’s just that I’ll have to juggle a few things around. I just don’t know ...”
“I will pay you twice your hourly rate. Just please stay the night.”
Fred sighed theatrically. “Well, okay. I’ll just need to make a couple of calls, and I’ll come back about nine-ish tonight.”
Elizabeth grabbed him again, despite his best efforts to keep her off. “Oh, thank you so much. I’ll see you tonight.”
Fred went home and lounged around for a few hours before returning to the Goldsborough house that night. Elizabeth set him up in the spare room, and he prepared himself for a very long vigil that would probably result in him catching the old lady sleepwalking.
He slept well at sixty dollars an hour, and not a sound was to be heard the entire night. He woke to the smell of frying bacon, and wandered downstairs to the kitchen.
“So, Mrs G, how did you sleep?” he enquired cautiously.
Elizabeth beamed at him. “The first decent night’s sleep I’ve had in weeks,” she responded gratefully. “I think your repellents must have worked.”
“Well,” he said, modestly. “I did say they might take a couple of days.” Fred ate a hearty breakfast of bacon and eggs, and left his hefty invoice on the table. “If you have any issues with any of the pricing, please let me know.”
Elizabeth beamed at him. “No price was too much to pay to get rid of those infernal creatures.”
Fred beamed back at her, and wished he’d charged more. “If you have any further problems, you know who to call.”
That night, Elizabeth lay back in her bed, relishing the silence. She had just started drifting off to sleep when the scratching started again. It sounded almost hostile, like the rats were angry at her.
Then the whispering started. “Elissabethhhh, Elissabethhhh.” No, surely she was imagining it. She shut her eyes tight and blocked out the noise.
“Elissabethhhh, Elissabethhhh.” Scratch, shuffle, scratch.
She squeezed her eyes tight and pretended to be asleep. Her exhaustion was taking its toll, and she finally drifted off into an uneasy sleep.
Movement on her bed, the mattress compressing with an alien weight. Short fetid gusts of breath on her face.
She reluctantly opened her eyes to see a face staring at her, nose to nose. Her heart burst into action, trying to cope with the adrenalin rush of fear.
Then a sharp pain in her chest, spreading down her arm. She gasped for breath, feeling her heart give out. And then a bleak darkness.
The noises went quiet, acknowledging the old lady’s death in a moment’s stillness.
And the children ran out of the house, giggling and skipping in the moonlight.
Infestation(Hazel Dow)
There they go again, scratching in the walls, whispering and squeaking. Elizabeth lay in her dark, lonely bed, tears of anger and frustration in her eyes. A week it had been now. A week of being constantly woken up. She had laid traps and baits to absolutely no avail. It was time to spend some money and hire a professional.
*******
Donny Bensch of Bensch Pest Control scratched his head and looked at Elizabeth. “I don’t know what else to tell you, Mrs Goldsborough,” he said. “I’ve looked everywhere and there ain’t no signs of rodent activity. Like, nothing chewed, no poop. The only thing your damned traps caught was me!” He examined his throbbing hand, grateful that nothing seemed to be actually broken.
Elizabeth glared at him. “Well how do you explain the noises? How do you explain this mess?” She swept a hand towards the kitchen, where half-gnawed apples sat browning in the fruit bowl. A cereal box had been knocked over, its contents squashed to crumbs on the kitchen floor. A faint smell of urine hung in the air.
“Well I don’t know!” said Donny. This argument had been going in circles for twenty minutes and he was getting a headache to match the pain in his hand. “Maybe you were sleepwalking!”
Elizabeth drew herself up and glared at Donny in contempt. “And the scratching? The whispering?”
Donny shrugged unhappily. He just wanted to go home. “Maybe you’re dreaming.”
Elizabeth leaned forward, her freckly old bosom threatening to spill out of her shirt. “You stupid boy,” she hissed. “How can I DREAM when they won’t let me SLEEP?”
Donny turned on his heel and marched towards the front door, his face crimson with embarrassment. “I dunno what else to tell you, missus. You’re more than welcome to get a second opinion,” he called over his shoulder. “And go see a doctor!” He slammed the door, and drove angrily away from the property, gravel grinding and popping under his wheels.
Elizabeth watched him go from behind the curtain, then picked up the phone.
Four days and six exterminators later, Elizabeth finally found someone who would at least humour her.
Fred Massick surveyed the deep gouges on the locked pantry door, where Elizabeth had taken to storing all food items. He privately figured the crazy old bat had done it herself with a screwdriver, but the more money he could screw out of the situation, the better. If old lady Goldsborough wanted some attention, then he was her man. For a price, of course.
“Yep,” he said, nodding with authority. “Could well be rats. Maybe even possums. You said there was a lot of bumping around in the walls and ceiling?”
“Oh, Lord yes!” said Elizabeth. “It sounds like they’re throwing furniture around up there!”
Fred laughed heartily. “Yes, they’re noisy bast … uh … beasts. I’ll have a good look in the ceiling and wall cavities, see if I can spot anything.”
Ten minutes later, Fred stood in the ceiling cavity. The torch light showed plenty of dust and cobwebs, but no signs of rodent activity. He switched the torch off for a moment; no light came in from holes in the roof where a possum may have gained entry. The silence was complete, apart from old lady Goldsborough coughing discreetly somewhere below. No scratching, no shuffling, just an oppressive silence. There was a slight odour of urine, and something unidentifiably familiar, but he couldn’t catch even a whiff of the musty, slightly nutty odour of rats or possums.
He carefully worked the ceiling space in a grid pattern, looking for all the world like a short pudgy police detective looking for clues. There was absolutely nothing. Just as Fred suspected, it was all in the old lady’s imagination. Disappointing, but there was always a work-around. He fingered the small specimen jar in his trouser pocket before squeezing his way through the manhole, down the ladder, and back into the house.
Fred strolled through to the kitchen, where Elizabeth was making tea and arranging sweet biscuits on a plate, and shook his specimen jar in her face. Several large rat turds rattled around in the jar, tripping over each other.
“You’ve got some very clever rats up there, ma’am,” he said gravely. “They’re smart at covering their tracks, but I managed to find these specimens.” He rattled the little jar again, sending the rat turds dancing. “I’m really not surprised that the ... er ... normal pest control people didn’t pick it up,” he added magnanimously.
Elizabeth looked satisfyingly impressed, and she nodded her head. “Those stupid people,” she muttered. “I told them I had rats.”
“And you were right, Mrs Goldsborough! I’ll just go get some gear out of the truck and I’ll get some traps set up for you this afternoon.” Fred hustled out of the house to his truck, rummaging around for the most impressive looking equipment he could find. It was pretty obvious the old lady didn’t have rats, but even if Fred could provide a placebo effect, it was still money for jam.
He grabbed a couple of high powered floodlights and a black box that somewhat resembled a briefcase, and hurried back inside.
“Right. Now here we have a couple of sonar repellents, guaranteed to send your rats running.” Fred allowed Elizabeth a brief look at the floodlights before packing them back into the box. “And for any stubborn bugg ... er ... rats, we have this.” He opened up the case and displayed a series of blue blocks lined up neatly on the black felt inside. “Rats go crazy for this stuff. They’ll eat it and die pretty quickly.”
Fred felt six feet tall under Elizabeth’s admiring gaze, and he quickly ascended once more into the attic. He set the useless floodlights to look like they were doing something, and placed the open black box along the wide wall. Just in case the old lady went crazy and decided to scramble up into the attic herself. He then sat for half an hour, counting his forthcoming money, before rejoining Elizabeth in the kitchen.
“Well, missus, everything’s set up. You should see results pretty quickly, but please call me if you have any more trouble.”
Fred came to regret his kind invitation, when Elizabeth took him up on it at six o’clock the next morning.
“They’re still here,” she wailed down the telephone line. “Oh please, won’t you come out and have a look?”
Fred tried to sound wide awake as he promised Elizabeth he would be out by noon, awful busy don’t you know, then went back to sleep for a couple of hours.
At quarter to twelve, Fred drove up to find a hysterical Elizabeth grabbing at his sleeves. “It didn’t work, Fred!” she sobbed. “It was worse than ever! I could hear them scratching all night long, squeaking and whispering. They’re driving me insane!”
Fred clasped her grabby hands. “It’s okay, Mrs Goldsborough,” he murmured soothingly, while raging inside that the placebo hadn’t worked. “Sometimes it takes a couple of days.”
Elizabeth looked into his eyes. “Oh, Fred. Can’t you stay the night? I really need someone else to listen to these things, to understand what I’m going through.”
Fred coughed, and rubbed his face. “Oh, well now, missus. I don’t know if that’s really necessary.“
“I will pay you for your time, of course.”
“Well, it’s not a question of money,” Fred lied. “It’s just that I’ll have to juggle a few things around. I just don’t know ...”
“I will pay you twice your hourly rate. Just please stay the night.”
Fred sighed theatrically. “Well, okay. I’ll just need to make a couple of calls, and I’ll come back about nine-ish tonight.”
Elizabeth grabbed him again, despite his best efforts to keep her off. “Oh, thank you so much. I’ll see you tonight.”
Fred went home and lounged around for a few hours before returning to the Goldsborough house that night. Elizabeth set him up in the spare room, and he prepared himself for a very long vigil that would probably result in him catching the old lady sleepwalking.
He slept well at sixty dollars an hour, and not a sound was to be heard the entire night. He woke to the smell of frying bacon, and wandered downstairs to the kitchen.
“So, Mrs G, how did you sleep?” he enquired cautiously.
Elizabeth beamed at him. “The first decent night’s sleep I’ve had in weeks,” she responded gratefully. “I think your repellents must have worked.”
“Well,” he said, modestly. “I did say they might take a couple of days.” Fred ate a hearty breakfast of bacon and eggs, and left his hefty invoice on the table. “If you have any issues with any of the pricing, please let me know.”
Elizabeth beamed at him. “No price was too much to pay to get rid of those infernal creatures.”
Fred beamed back at her, and wished he’d charged more. “If you have any further problems, you know who to call.”
That night, Elizabeth lay back in her bed, relishing the silence. She had just started drifting off to sleep when the scratching started again. It sounded almost hostile, like the rats were angry at her.
Then the whispering started. “Elissabethhhh, Elissabethhhh.” No, surely she was imagining it. She shut her eyes tight and blocked out the noise.
“Elissabethhhh, Elissabethhhh.” Scratch, shuffle, scratch.
She squeezed her eyes tight and pretended to be asleep. Her exhaustion was taking its toll, and she finally drifted off into an uneasy sleep.
Movement on her bed, the mattress compressing with an alien weight. Short fetid gusts of breath on her face.
She reluctantly opened her eyes to see a face staring at her, nose to nose. Her heart burst into action, trying to cope with the adrenalin rush of fear.
Then a sharp pain in her chest, spreading down her arm. She gasped for breath, feeling her heart give out. And then a bleak darkness.
The noises went quiet, acknowledging the old lady’s death in a moment’s stillness.
And the children ran out of the house, giggling and skipping in the moonlight.
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- 6
Jason James Parker
09/21/2020Now that's an ending! I loved this story, Hazel. Crafted perfectly with that wicked sense of glee. : )
ReplyHelp Us Understand What's Happening
Jason James Parker
09/29/2020Thank you, Hazel! You too--The Tea Lady is one of my favorite stories on the whole site. : )
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Hazel Dow
09/28/2020Thanks Jason! And congratulations for being chosen as part of Story Star's anthology. I was right chuffed :-D
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Douglas Richards
08/22/2020Loved it!! You are such a good writer, Hazel! Defintely a captivating tale. Couldn't stop reading. :)
ReplyHelp Us Understand What's Happening
Hazel Dow
09/21/2020Thanks Douglas! That was fun to write, all the time giggling up my sleeve about the ending. Children are sooo creepy!
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JD
07/28/2019Those are some nasty, evil, little 'innocents', Hazel! I was expecting some sicko stalker, but your twisted ending really got me!
Bad girl! :-)
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Hazel Dow
09/09/2019Woohoo, thanks very much. Very gratifying that there are other twisted psycopaths out there who like my stories!
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JD
08/22/2019Congratulations on being selected as one of the Short Story STARS of the Week, Hazel! :-)
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Kevin Hughes
07/26/2019Okay, Hazel,
I have figured out the difference between your Horror Stories, and my two ventures into your field. After you read my stories you can go back to bed. LOL
Smiles, Kevin
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Hazel Dow
07/26/2019I loved your forays into my field! I love your writing altogether, and your sense of humour. Sleep well. LOL.
COMMENTS (5)