Hello readers! I am so excited to be sharing another artist collaboration with you guys.  If you are unfamiliar with my collaborations, it goes like this: I write a short story inspired by an artist’s style and body of work and then they in turn create a piece inspired by the story, bringing it to life. It is about inspiring and being inspired in turn, working with incredible talents, making new connections and friends and it is one of my projects to do. For this post, I had the honour of collaborating with the incredible Ben Gaboury aka Scrimshaw Pottery. Based in Cape Cod, Massachusetts in the US, Ben creates stunning clay pieces inspired by everything from the sea to Greek Mythology. With a dark aesthetic and lots of skulls and nautical imagery, I was immediately drawn to his work. You can check out more of Ben’s work, including restocks on his Instagram. I hope you like it, let me know what you think in the comments and don’t forget to subscribe!

Midnight

skull1It came at midnight.

The winged thing. The black skinless creature with twisted horns and eyes which glow like embers from the cavernous holes in its skull. It came and it took my mother. I heard the glass breaking just as the clock had begun to chime. I heard her scream and then, I heard nothing. The silence was so much worse. I dared not leave my room. I cried in the darkness, waiting for the familiar sound of my father’s four by four on our gravel drive. He screamed too, but it was a different scream than my mother’s. Hers was high and panicked, filled with terror. His was guttural and doused in loss.

They wouldn’t let me see the room, my father and the Police officers who occasionally skull2patted my head or tried to comfort my sister Ellie and I with chocolate and softly spoken words. I snuck a look when I went to the bathroom. All I can remember is how red it was. Red on the floor, red on the white walls, red on the bedspread. But no mum. Just a tangled mess of hair caught on shattered glass fluttering in the breeze. My sister’s too small to understand. She smiles and giggles as the Police lady tickles her. I don’t cry at first, even though I’m old enough to know what the Red means. But when Ellie begins to cry for mama with no answer to come, I feel tears force their way out. I tried to stop but the more I do, the worse it gets. I close my eyes as tight as I can, the way I do when we play hide and seek. I want mum to be hiding. I want to fall asleep and wake up from this bad dream. But this isn’t a dream.

skull3It came at midnight.

The hooded demon with needle-sharp teeth. It came and it took my dad. He had started to sleep with his shotgun in one hand and an empty bottle in the other. The red is gone now, covered up or thrown away. The window is boarded, casting the room in perpetual shadow. We were going to move he said, but I knew he couldn’t leave the house that mum made our home. I think a part of him thought she might come back.  I knew different. I heard the clopping of footsteps echoing in the hall and my dad yelling a curse word before the bang of the gun. Then, that terrible silence again. There was no red this time, just scratch marks on the window frame, the wood panel dislodged, swinging precariously by a single screw. I called the Police the way mum told me but they scolded me for telling fibs. Grown-ups never believe children, not until it’s too late. I tried to call my aunt Sarah but the phone cut off after the second ring and now there’s no dial tone. My sister cries and I can barely get her out of the crib. I feed her from jars in the cupboard the way mum did but she’s so fussy. She knows something’s wrong and she keeps asking for mama. I don’t have the heart to tell her mama’s gone. I pack a bag with some food and clothes for Ellie, nappies and wipes and our toothbrushes. I don’t take much for me, just some pants and my teddy. I take the picture from the fridge, the one taken in the hospital when Ellie was just born. Mum looks tired but happy and my dad and I look proud. That was the day I became a big brother. I promised to look after Ellie, always. I put Ellie in the pram and the bag on the bottom. It’s hard to push, I’m just tall enough to reach the handles, but I have to get her somewhere safe before it starts to get dark. We live in the country but I know from our many car journeys, the way towards town. I’ve never walked that far before.

It will come at midnight, the thing that took my parents. The thing that smells like rotting and death.

It will come at midnight and tonight, it comes for us.

 

 

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