Congratulations !
You have been awarded points.
Thank you for !
- Story Listed as: Fiction For Adults
- Theme: Mystery
- Subject: Horror / Scary
- Published: 04/24/2017
Rats
Born 1964, F, from Gordon, ACT, AustraliaEdna shuddered as the young brown rat skittered over her foot and darted into the dusty corner of the attic.
A sharp SNAP spoke of the young rodent’s fate, and Edna squeezed in behind stored dusty boxes to retrieve the body and reset the trap. Lord, was there no end to these things?
A distant rhythmic thumping sent her scurrying down the ladder to tend to her husband, eager to respond to his summons before …
“You’re too late!” Harold’s face was red with effort and mean joy. A fetid stench rose from his bed. He had somehow dislodged his adult diaper and shit had gone everywhere. It coated the sheets, and smeared the pillowslip where he had wiped his hands. He had even managed to get it in his hair.
Edna didn’t know whether to cry or puke. Or both.
She efficiently stripped him and wrestled him into his chair, then wheeled him into the shower and left him under the warm spray while she stripped and remade the bed. The dirty bedclothes went into the laundry sink to soak. Edna thought sourly that she’d be better off napalming them. Maybe napalm that stinking awful thing she was married to.
“Edna! Edna! What are you doing, woman? I’m drowning in here!”
Edna retrieved her clean husband from the shower, dried him off and put clean pyjamas on him, while he wriggled and flapped his arms and made the job as difficult as possible.
“Where’s my breakfast? I want coffee,” he wailed. “I want bacon, scrambled eggs, toast!”
Edna sighed. “I’ve only got one pair of damn hands,” she snapped.
Harold stared at her in astonishment, then backhanded her before she could move out of reach. “The hell you say!” he shouted. “You should be grateful I stay with you, you lazy thing. Grateful I married you in the first place! No-one else coulda stood looking at your ugly damn face every day.” He reached out a trembling hand for his cigarettes and lit one, puffing smoke in her direction.
Edna stared at him, rubbing her cheek. She remembered many years ago being amazed and delighted when the handsome Harold Lansdowne had asked her out. She wasn’t ugly then, maybe a little plain, but not ugly. Twenty-five years of marriage had taken care of that, though. Edna realised now that there were worse things than being alone. She only wished she’d known that simple truth before she had married this horrid man.
His stroke two years ago had turned him from a nasty human being into a monster, a monster who depended on her for everything. She fed him, cleaned him. Hated him. He wouldn’t tolerate anyone else in his house. The home help service refused to send any more nurses out to be abused. The few friends that used to visit suddenly had incredibly busy lives and promises to visit were never realised.
But it was what it was. She fetched him his breakfast and watched without surprise as he stubbed his cigarette out in the scrambled eggs and dropped the butt in his coffee. Despite the temptation to let the bastard go hungry, she wordlessly returned to the kitchen to make him a fresh breakfast.
There were fresh rat droppings on the counter, and she watched with disgust as the culprit dropped lightly to the ground and scooted away. She set a trap, and reminded herself to pick up some more traps from town.
Clean the house, make Harold’s lunch. Make it again when he accidentally-on-purpose knocked the first one to the floor. Then sit and read, maybe watch TV for an hour while Harold slept in his chair. She would have so loved to go out for a walk and get some fresh air, but she didn’t like leaving Harold on his own. For a helpless invalid, he managed a creditable job of destroying whatever room he was in unless she was there to watch him.
A snapping noise from the kitchen, followed by a thin, wavering scream. Oh great, a live one. Edna hated those. She resignedly put her book down and went into the kitchen.
The trap had caught the rat on the shoulders, and it wasn’t happy about it. As Edna approached, the rat lunged around in a panic to try and free itself. She knew just how it felt.
She picked up the trap and its squirming captive, and took it out to the backyard. There was a hole in the fence that led to a vacant block, and she poked the trap halfway through before releasing the rat. The rat promptly bit her before swiftly limping through the hole, glaring over its shoulder before disappearing into a pile of rubble.
Edna rocked back on her heels and sobbed while blood flowed from her finger and stained her jeans.
When she finished, she blotted the tears from her face with her plain cotton t-shirt, and went back inside to deal with her wound.
Harold was awake and demanding coffee, pounding his cane against the wall to draw attention. He looked with suspicion at her bandaged finger, her blotchy face and puffy eyes, but didn’t say anything.
Edna fetched Harold’s coffee and sat back down with a sigh. She had barely read half a page of her book before Harold started bawling for his coffee.
She jumped to her feet. “Damn you, I already got your coffee! It’s right beside you on the table!”
Harold stared at her, then deliberately swept his cane across the table, knocking his coffee to the floor. “You’re a damn liar!” he screeched. “Got nothin’ else, can’t even get a damn coffee!”
Edna stalked out to the kitchen to make him another coffee. She’d clean the carpet later, after Harold was in bed. She did not want to get within striking range of that damn cane. She still had the scar on her ear where he’d hit her with it so hard he’d split the skin.
Night-time. Edna strapped Harold to the toilet and refused to let him off until he’d produced a satisfactory amount of waste. A quick shower, back into his pyjamas, then she helped him into his bed. She fed him his pills, including an extra one that she’d slipped into the mix to ensure he slept through the night.
Edna got into her own bed and read for a while before turning off the light. She lay awake for a while, listening to Harold’s whistling snores from the other side of the room, and the scampering of tiny feet in the attic and in the walls. Traps just weren’t doing the job. She made a mental note to investigate better options tomorrow.
The next morning, she crushed a sleeping pill and slipped it into Harold’s coffee so she could escape for a couple of hours to go into town.
Oh, the sweet fresh air! The sense of freedom! Despite herself, Edna felt her spirits rising as she backed out of the driveway, car window down, golden oldies blasting from the radio. She drove the half hour into town singing along with the radio. Warm air gusted through the open window and played gently with her hair. The smells of summer blasted through the car in evocative bursts. Mown grass, hot tar, fragrant blooms, the ghost of exhaust fumes.
In town, Edna gathered her groceries for the week and stashed them in the car. Then she walked over to Clement’s hardware store for advice on some rat-stopping action.
Ed Clement himself was behind the counter, and he beamed happily as Edna entered the dim store.
“Ah, Mrs Lansdowne. How lovely to see you again. You’re after more rat traps?”
Edna sighed. “Tell you the truth, Ed, damn rats are worse than ever. Do you have anything else you could recommend?”
Ed nodded. “I believe I have just the thing,” he said. He shuffled out from behind the counter and disappeared into the gloom between the rows of shelving, reappearing a minute or so later gripping a bright yellow box. The box showed a rather graphic silhouette of an apparently dead rat lying on its back, with x’s for eyes. Above the picture in dripping dark red print were the words, RATS-NO-MORE. Under that in slightly smaller letters, Guaranteed To Kill Rodents Dead!
“Easy as pie to use,” said Ed, brandishing the box at her. “Stir a tablespoon of crystals into a cup of water until it dissolves, then put little bowls of it around the place. Rats can’t resist it, I guarantee it’ll get rid of the little buggers for you.”
Edna took the box, looking dubiously at the artwork. “I’ll give it a go,” she said. “Thanks Ed.”
She looked at her watch. Time was getting away, and she still had a few things to do. She rushed around town finalising her errands, then blasted out of town, darting worried looks at the dashboard clock. The rising tension saw her gripping the steering wheel so hard her knuckles whitened. The joyful sounds of song were now just plain annoying, and she punched the radio off, her fear growing in the silence. She left the window shut.
She swept into the driveway and turned off the ignition. She could hear Harold from here.
“Edna! Edna! EDNAAAAA!!!” Bangbangbang. “Edna! Edna! EDNAAAAA!!!”
She wondered dully how long he had kept that up for. Thank goodness they didn’t have any close neighbours!
Edna grabbed the bags of groceries and made her way to the kitchen to unpack. No need to hurry. Whatever havoc there was to be wreaked would be wreaked by now.
She lifted out the box of RATS-NO-MORE and thoughtfully read the box. There was one hell of a big rat that could use some exterminating, that was for sure.
“EDNA! EDNA! EDNAAAAA!!! I KNOW YOU’RE THERE! I WANT COFFEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!”
“Oh, you’ll get your frigging coffee, alright,” muttered Edna as she filled the kettle and switched it on. “One cup of coffee coming right up, you mean old bugger.”
She smiled sweetly as she placed the tray on the coffee table, ignoring Harold’s suspicious gaze.
“How about some biscuits with that?” he grunted.
Edna went into the kitchen and arranged some sweet biscuits on a plate. A dying rat kicked feebly in the corner, and she nodded in satisfaction.
Back in the living room, she placed the biscuits on the tray and took her coffee and a biscuit over to the sofa. Harold crammed a biscuit into his mouth and chewed, biscuit crumbs tumbling down onto his chest. Edna watched as he took a gulp of coffee, staring at her with darkly glittering eyes.
She smiled quietly as she drank her own coffee.
Harold waited until she’d finished the whole cup before he started banging his cane on the floor and cackling in triumph.
“You think I didn’t know what you were up to, you crazy bitch? You think I don’t know you put something in my coffee? How’d it taste, bitch? How’d it damn well taste?” His laughter ended in a coughing fit, damp biscuit crumbs flying out of his mouth.
Edna felt her face and hands go numb as the poison swept through her body. Her stomach was burning, her chest so tight that she could barely breathe.
As she died, a vision flared in her brain. A vision of her husband slowly starving to death while sitting hip deep in his own waste. Dying of thirst while painful sores slowly ate into his bony arse. The rats would gnaw the flesh from his bones, she could only hope that he was still alive to feel it.
A sunny smile broke out on her face, and she wheezed out a chuckle before fading into eternity.
Harold’s own smile faded from his face. “Why you laughin’, woman? Edna? EDNAAAAA!!!”
Rats(Hazel Dow)
Edna shuddered as the young brown rat skittered over her foot and darted into the dusty corner of the attic.
A sharp SNAP spoke of the young rodent’s fate, and Edna squeezed in behind stored dusty boxes to retrieve the body and reset the trap. Lord, was there no end to these things?
A distant rhythmic thumping sent her scurrying down the ladder to tend to her husband, eager to respond to his summons before …
“You’re too late!” Harold’s face was red with effort and mean joy. A fetid stench rose from his bed. He had somehow dislodged his adult diaper and shit had gone everywhere. It coated the sheets, and smeared the pillowslip where he had wiped his hands. He had even managed to get it in his hair.
Edna didn’t know whether to cry or puke. Or both.
She efficiently stripped him and wrestled him into his chair, then wheeled him into the shower and left him under the warm spray while she stripped and remade the bed. The dirty bedclothes went into the laundry sink to soak. Edna thought sourly that she’d be better off napalming them. Maybe napalm that stinking awful thing she was married to.
“Edna! Edna! What are you doing, woman? I’m drowning in here!”
Edna retrieved her clean husband from the shower, dried him off and put clean pyjamas on him, while he wriggled and flapped his arms and made the job as difficult as possible.
“Where’s my breakfast? I want coffee,” he wailed. “I want bacon, scrambled eggs, toast!”
Edna sighed. “I’ve only got one pair of damn hands,” she snapped.
Harold stared at her in astonishment, then backhanded her before she could move out of reach. “The hell you say!” he shouted. “You should be grateful I stay with you, you lazy thing. Grateful I married you in the first place! No-one else coulda stood looking at your ugly damn face every day.” He reached out a trembling hand for his cigarettes and lit one, puffing smoke in her direction.
Edna stared at him, rubbing her cheek. She remembered many years ago being amazed and delighted when the handsome Harold Lansdowne had asked her out. She wasn’t ugly then, maybe a little plain, but not ugly. Twenty-five years of marriage had taken care of that, though. Edna realised now that there were worse things than being alone. She only wished she’d known that simple truth before she had married this horrid man.
His stroke two years ago had turned him from a nasty human being into a monster, a monster who depended on her for everything. She fed him, cleaned him. Hated him. He wouldn’t tolerate anyone else in his house. The home help service refused to send any more nurses out to be abused. The few friends that used to visit suddenly had incredibly busy lives and promises to visit were never realised.
But it was what it was. She fetched him his breakfast and watched without surprise as he stubbed his cigarette out in the scrambled eggs and dropped the butt in his coffee. Despite the temptation to let the bastard go hungry, she wordlessly returned to the kitchen to make him a fresh breakfast.
There were fresh rat droppings on the counter, and she watched with disgust as the culprit dropped lightly to the ground and scooted away. She set a trap, and reminded herself to pick up some more traps from town.
Clean the house, make Harold’s lunch. Make it again when he accidentally-on-purpose knocked the first one to the floor. Then sit and read, maybe watch TV for an hour while Harold slept in his chair. She would have so loved to go out for a walk and get some fresh air, but she didn’t like leaving Harold on his own. For a helpless invalid, he managed a creditable job of destroying whatever room he was in unless she was there to watch him.
A snapping noise from the kitchen, followed by a thin, wavering scream. Oh great, a live one. Edna hated those. She resignedly put her book down and went into the kitchen.
The trap had caught the rat on the shoulders, and it wasn’t happy about it. As Edna approached, the rat lunged around in a panic to try and free itself. She knew just how it felt.
She picked up the trap and its squirming captive, and took it out to the backyard. There was a hole in the fence that led to a vacant block, and she poked the trap halfway through before releasing the rat. The rat promptly bit her before swiftly limping through the hole, glaring over its shoulder before disappearing into a pile of rubble.
Edna rocked back on her heels and sobbed while blood flowed from her finger and stained her jeans.
When she finished, she blotted the tears from her face with her plain cotton t-shirt, and went back inside to deal with her wound.
Harold was awake and demanding coffee, pounding his cane against the wall to draw attention. He looked with suspicion at her bandaged finger, her blotchy face and puffy eyes, but didn’t say anything.
Edna fetched Harold’s coffee and sat back down with a sigh. She had barely read half a page of her book before Harold started bawling for his coffee.
She jumped to her feet. “Damn you, I already got your coffee! It’s right beside you on the table!”
Harold stared at her, then deliberately swept his cane across the table, knocking his coffee to the floor. “You’re a damn liar!” he screeched. “Got nothin’ else, can’t even get a damn coffee!”
Edna stalked out to the kitchen to make him another coffee. She’d clean the carpet later, after Harold was in bed. She did not want to get within striking range of that damn cane. She still had the scar on her ear where he’d hit her with it so hard he’d split the skin.
Night-time. Edna strapped Harold to the toilet and refused to let him off until he’d produced a satisfactory amount of waste. A quick shower, back into his pyjamas, then she helped him into his bed. She fed him his pills, including an extra one that she’d slipped into the mix to ensure he slept through the night.
Edna got into her own bed and read for a while before turning off the light. She lay awake for a while, listening to Harold’s whistling snores from the other side of the room, and the scampering of tiny feet in the attic and in the walls. Traps just weren’t doing the job. She made a mental note to investigate better options tomorrow.
The next morning, she crushed a sleeping pill and slipped it into Harold’s coffee so she could escape for a couple of hours to go into town.
Oh, the sweet fresh air! The sense of freedom! Despite herself, Edna felt her spirits rising as she backed out of the driveway, car window down, golden oldies blasting from the radio. She drove the half hour into town singing along with the radio. Warm air gusted through the open window and played gently with her hair. The smells of summer blasted through the car in evocative bursts. Mown grass, hot tar, fragrant blooms, the ghost of exhaust fumes.
In town, Edna gathered her groceries for the week and stashed them in the car. Then she walked over to Clement’s hardware store for advice on some rat-stopping action.
Ed Clement himself was behind the counter, and he beamed happily as Edna entered the dim store.
“Ah, Mrs Lansdowne. How lovely to see you again. You’re after more rat traps?”
Edna sighed. “Tell you the truth, Ed, damn rats are worse than ever. Do you have anything else you could recommend?”
Ed nodded. “I believe I have just the thing,” he said. He shuffled out from behind the counter and disappeared into the gloom between the rows of shelving, reappearing a minute or so later gripping a bright yellow box. The box showed a rather graphic silhouette of an apparently dead rat lying on its back, with x’s for eyes. Above the picture in dripping dark red print were the words, RATS-NO-MORE. Under that in slightly smaller letters, Guaranteed To Kill Rodents Dead!
“Easy as pie to use,” said Ed, brandishing the box at her. “Stir a tablespoon of crystals into a cup of water until it dissolves, then put little bowls of it around the place. Rats can’t resist it, I guarantee it’ll get rid of the little buggers for you.”
Edna took the box, looking dubiously at the artwork. “I’ll give it a go,” she said. “Thanks Ed.”
She looked at her watch. Time was getting away, and she still had a few things to do. She rushed around town finalising her errands, then blasted out of town, darting worried looks at the dashboard clock. The rising tension saw her gripping the steering wheel so hard her knuckles whitened. The joyful sounds of song were now just plain annoying, and she punched the radio off, her fear growing in the silence. She left the window shut.
She swept into the driveway and turned off the ignition. She could hear Harold from here.
“Edna! Edna! EDNAAAAA!!!” Bangbangbang. “Edna! Edna! EDNAAAAA!!!”
She wondered dully how long he had kept that up for. Thank goodness they didn’t have any close neighbours!
Edna grabbed the bags of groceries and made her way to the kitchen to unpack. No need to hurry. Whatever havoc there was to be wreaked would be wreaked by now.
She lifted out the box of RATS-NO-MORE and thoughtfully read the box. There was one hell of a big rat that could use some exterminating, that was for sure.
“EDNA! EDNA! EDNAAAAA!!! I KNOW YOU’RE THERE! I WANT COFFEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!”
“Oh, you’ll get your frigging coffee, alright,” muttered Edna as she filled the kettle and switched it on. “One cup of coffee coming right up, you mean old bugger.”
She smiled sweetly as she placed the tray on the coffee table, ignoring Harold’s suspicious gaze.
“How about some biscuits with that?” he grunted.
Edna went into the kitchen and arranged some sweet biscuits on a plate. A dying rat kicked feebly in the corner, and she nodded in satisfaction.
Back in the living room, she placed the biscuits on the tray and took her coffee and a biscuit over to the sofa. Harold crammed a biscuit into his mouth and chewed, biscuit crumbs tumbling down onto his chest. Edna watched as he took a gulp of coffee, staring at her with darkly glittering eyes.
She smiled quietly as she drank her own coffee.
Harold waited until she’d finished the whole cup before he started banging his cane on the floor and cackling in triumph.
“You think I didn’t know what you were up to, you crazy bitch? You think I don’t know you put something in my coffee? How’d it taste, bitch? How’d it damn well taste?” His laughter ended in a coughing fit, damp biscuit crumbs flying out of his mouth.
Edna felt her face and hands go numb as the poison swept through her body. Her stomach was burning, her chest so tight that she could barely breathe.
As she died, a vision flared in her brain. A vision of her husband slowly starving to death while sitting hip deep in his own waste. Dying of thirst while painful sores slowly ate into his bony arse. The rats would gnaw the flesh from his bones, she could only hope that he was still alive to feel it.
A sunny smile broke out on her face, and she wheezed out a chuckle before fading into eternity.
Harold’s own smile faded from his face. “Why you laughin’, woman? Edna? EDNAAAAA!!!”
- Share this story on
- 7
COMMENTS (0)