The Burden

Part Two

It was light. The room was lit with natural sunlight creeping in from behind the dark curtains. An oddly bitter stench filled the room. He still sat in the cage, the only time he moved was to watch the moth or to sniff at the bowl for any more water.

He was waiting, waiting for the man to wake.

Slowly his world was being revealed from behind a wall created from pure cowardice. The lonely fortress was fading rapidly and it could’ve been too much for him, had he not realised that he had lost much of his life due to the man. He never did like Solus, but he didn’t have anyone else.

He lay crumpled in the cage, curled up like a foetus, far from ready to enter the world. He watched Solus with his piercing eyes, and dark dilated pupils he was hypnotised by the stillness of the man.  He yawned and felt a certainty of delight from the moth as it pranced about the air above him.

The whole house soon became concealed in a fog of the sickly odour. Neighbours began to complain, there had been more knocks on the peeling door in the past seven days than in the entirety of the man’s hopeless life. They had thought the house to be vacant for a long time, but now they realised that the man was still there. Rumours concerning what the man was doing began to spread. Children told of the false horrors that lay in the dead house.

He couldn’t sleep, because he had slept all day, and now he was hungry, and he thought he could hear something. He looked up at the man, his head was still tilted to one side and his eyes remained closed, his arms were crossed awkwardly on his lap.

The moth left its perch on the unlit bulb of the lamp and fluttered around the door frame. As if it suddenly realised it wanted to escape.

He raised his head, as a noise closed in on the house. Voices of youth strolled up to the dark house and muffled words neared the frail ears that he had depended on for so long.

“I don’t want to do it,” a worried voice stated as the others climbed the fence.

“Don’t be a chicken!” one replied.

“What’s the worst that could happen?” a braver boy urged disastrous outcomes into the worried girl’s head.

“We’ll leave you here, all on your own in the dark,” the oldest of the boys snapped as he jumped down on the other side of the fence.

“Don’t leave me,” she whimpered, and she followed her friends over the fence and into the garden where a rusty swing set creaked in the midnight breeze. The four children walked over to the back door of the house, where sheets of old newspaper covered the glass pane from inside. The oldest of the boys rolled up his sleeves and pushed the sliding door, quickly realising that it was open and easy to manoeuvre.

The one in the cage crawled over to the door of the cage and sat looking at the door, waiting for the voices to get closer.

 “Ladies go first,” the oldest of the boys gestured, once the door was open, and the dark corridor was just visible from the dim light of the crescent moon.  

“No way,” She crossed her arms and frowned at them.

“I dare you to,” the youngest of the boys smirked. The bravest boy held out the torch for her, and she snatched it out of his hand.

She switched the torch on and a circle of white light appeared on the front door at the end of the corridor, she crept forward, making sure the boys were behind her. They followed, not wanting to look scared; they put on their fearless faces.

As she flicked the torch around she cast long shadows that looked like black ghosts appearing and then vanishing into the night. The bravest of the boys crept beside the girl, followed by the youngest, the oldest keeping up at the back of the cluster.