Ever Dundas - Goblin

I searched the sky for planes as we ran back to the mausoleum. There was a chamber below and I broke the old rusting lock with a stone. I coaxed Devil down into the darkness and he whined and slunk down on his belly, following me.

I lit candles and listened for bombs, but there was nothing. I traced my fingers across the coffins in the crypt, all covered in dust and scuttling insects. I wanted to break them open to see a real skeleton but I was afraid and pretended it was really respect for the dead because goblins shouldn’t be afraid of anything, especially dead things. I sat with Devil, his head on my lap, and read some of The Time Machine again. I don’t know how long we were in there. I hadn’t heard the all-clear but I lost patience and crept back to London above. I searched the sky again, finding nothing. I climbed up on a mausoleum and looked out over the city. No planes or flames.

We left the in-between realm and found people in the street, everyone carrying a gas mask. Some of the kids still had them on. A group of toddlers were sat on the pavement playing marbles, all wearing adult gas masks, heads lolling, absurdly large and insect-like. Some girls wore their masks as they played with a skipping rope. The two holding the rope looked like sentries, standing still apart from a flick of the wrist. The two girls skipping in the middle were like little monsters, nimble and silly-looking, their ponytails sticking out the side of the masks. Devil ran under the rope, back and forth, but the girls didn’t stumble. I pretended to shoot them, bang bang bang! They ignored me. One of the sentries turned and stared at me with her huge glinting bug eyes, still turning the rope. I called on Devil and ran off down the street pretending we were being chased by giant Martian insects. We arrived at the Underground and threw ourselves dramatically onto a train, lying on the seats as we caught our breath. I stared suspiciously at everyone, confused by the sudden camaraderie as strangers talked to each other. It was the same back home. Neighbours we hardly spoke to were round at our house, sitting by the wireless, a drink in their hands. David stood in the corner, away from everyone else. He smiled at me, beckoned me over.

‘Where you been, G? You’re always disappearing.’

‘I was in the in-between realm.’

‘Yeah? Is there war there?’

‘When did it happen?’

‘This morning. Eleven fifteen.’

‘Are you going away? Are you going to fight?’

‘I’m not going anywhere,’ he said, looking over at da. ‘I’m staying right here.’

The house was stifling and boring, with our neighbours everywhere and all the adults droning on. I found Mac and Stevie and we played war at the worksite. As darkness fell we sat eating our apples, watching the searchlights, listening to the hum of the barrage balloon wires. I was bloody and bruised all over. Even Stevie had got in a few hits.

We crept back home in the dark. The streets were deserted. When someone walked by, their footsteps echoed. They’d brush past us, a shadow, an apparition, except for some drunk old man who mumbled to himself and tripped over his own feet. I sneaked up on him and whispered some made-up German in his ear.

‘Huns!’ he yelled, losing his footing on the edge of the kerb. He half-sat, half-fell, his arms flailing. Mac hit him with a stick, Devil nipped at his feet and we ran off, leaving him rolling on the pavement.

I got home to find ma, da, and David in the sitting room. All the neighbours had gone. The wireless burbled in the background. The windows were covered, and the light was dim. Da sat next to ma, leaning back, smoking, looking relaxed except for his hand that gripped the side of the chair, his knuckles white. Ma was perched. Her nose was red, her mascara had run and was caked across her cheeks. David was sitting opposite them with his elbows on his knees, head bowed, palms pressed to his ears, his fingers sticking up through his hair. I thought maybe he was sick.

‘David?’

Ma jerked towards me as if about to get up, but she stayed, perched. Her dark brown eyes looked black.

‘I want you home before blackout from now on. You got that?’

‘You never cared before.’

‘Don’t you answer me back, Goblin-runt. You’ve been running wild for too long, you and that Devil-dog.’

I nodded.

‘You hear me?’

‘Yes, ma.’

Da continued to smoke. David didn’t move. I went into the hall and paused, listening.

‘I’m not having a fucking conchie living in our house.’

Da wasn’t even shouting. His voice was low and I strained to hear. There was no response. Just silence. I went to my room.

‘They’re idiots, Devil. Idiots.’

We curled up in bed and I flicked through The Time Machine , reading bits of it aloud to Devil.

David came in, took off his clothes and got in bed. He had a red welt on his cheek, just below his eye. Dried blood crumbled across his temple.

‘What happened?’

‘Nothing.’

He lit a cigarette.

‘Mind if I put on a record?’

He’d never asked before.

‘It’s fine,’ I said.

We lay there, listening to Liszt. Devil fell asleep, twitching and making little noises as he dreamt.

‘We don’t need to stay here,’ David said. ‘Do we?’

He turned on his side and looked over at me. I shook my head.

‘We’ll leave. How about that? We’ll leave together and go to the west coast. We’ll live by the sea. I’ll get a job and we’ll live by the sea.’

I nodded. I’d never been to the sea.

He turned off the record.

‘Night.’

‘Night.’

I sank into my bed and drifted, dreaming dreams of the ocean, of ships and pirates, of treasure and krakens and mermaids and adventures to shimmering glittering foreign lands.

Edinburgh, 16 July 2011

Holding the newspaper, worrying the edges, I stare at the photograph. It’s blurry. There’s very little light. At first glance, all you can really see is an indistinct mound, a jumble of old clothes maybe, rubbish, junk, just waiting to be tipped over into a pit where it would rot away. Light comes into the right of the photograph, an overexposed glare, melting, pushing back the darkness. Some of the bodies are in sacks, but others are piled on, legs in a tangled mess, heads drooping. Smoke was emerging from behind the mound and I remember the stench of burning hair and skin. Devil had been by my side, sprinting in short bursts, back and forth, barking and whining, but I’d ignored him as I stared at a dog that was pushed deep into the mound, its head sticking out. It looked comical, its front paw offered up. I’d taken the paw in my hand, feeling the pads, staring at its lolling tongue. There was a cat next to it and I’d lifted its head with the palm of my hand, pushing up the chin. I’d stroked it, poked into its strange ears, feeling the shape of the cartilage. The eyes looked fake. It was just a rag doll cat. I’d sniffed its head. It smelled cold.

I must have left the camera. Mac had picked it up. It was always round my neck. I can’t remember anymore, can’t recall why I left it. Maybe it was the shock of seeing all the dead bodies in our den.

Mac had raised the camera. At the time I didn’t know whether he’d taken a photo or if he was just playing, just pretending. And here I was, walking towards Mac, emerging from the smoke, the dead animals barely visible in the background.

I had my brother’s old shorts on. They were too big for me and I’d tied them round my waist with string. My spindly legs were covered in bruises from our violent games, from running through the streets in the blackout. I was reaching towards Mac. I didn’t like anyone else touching my camera, even him. I’m frowning, about to speak, about to demand it back. You can see the scar on my arm, from the spike. And more bruises. My gas mask was propped on top of my head, my shorn hair sticking out in tufts.