Vurt

The Haunting!

"Even a fool could manage it!"

All my air was used up. Bursts of light behind my eyes. Pain. The fierce glare in my father's eyes. This is Vurt!

"But not my boy, evidently."

Darkness, and the end of pain beckoning.

Jerk out! Come on! Work it! The pain dying away as I lost the will to -

"Oh Christ!"

I was shivering amongst the trees, down by the lakeside. The leaves were rustling from the gathering wind. I couldn't stop shaking.

Made it.

Made a way out of there.

A shadow falling across the moon.

Christ, that was bad. And no sign of Desdemona.

Shaking, shaking...

Breathing in gulps of air. Again. Again. My lungs aching, and my throat, and a sharp pain on my cheek from the razor's edge.

And then letting out the air, in a long passage.

Something coming between the moon and the trees.

Found a way out somehow.

Except that you can't jerkout of a Yellow.

The leaves shaking as something moved amongst them.

So what was...

"I have found you, Stephen."

My father pushing the branches aside, the glint of light on the razor in his hand.

I'm still in the Vurt!

"I won't have any child of mine out after ten."

Father stepping forward, blocking the moon's light completely, until there was only darkness. And the blade...

Get out of here!

His hand around my neck -

"Looking good, Scribble."

"Looking good yourself, birthday girl."

"You taking me out tonight?"

"Bet on it, Des."

"Where?"

"Platt Fields."

"Platt Fields? I was maybe expecting a meal. Then a club. I feel like dancing."

"I know. But there's a little clump of trees there, side of the lake. It's private and cosy, and we could... well, you know..."

"Scribble! You're disgusting!"

"It's you that makes me like this."

She pushed me backwards, onto the bed. Then she jumped on top of me, and started to really tickle me, just where I can't stand it.

"Des!"

"I'm not going to some dingy park. I'm going dancing!"

"You've got to."

"What do you mean, got to? Who says got to? Hey! --"

I manage to get a grip on her body, and then kind of throw her over, but gently, until I was on top of her, and she was smiling beneath me. "We've got to go there, Des. Don't ask why. I just

know we've got to go."

"Why should I?"

"It's important."

She went quiet then.

Her bedroom was a warm glow of yellow, the last rays of the sun coming through the drawn curtains. Her eyes were too much for me, too full of life.

I lowered myself down, until our bodies were touching all over, and my lips were on hers.

"Careful, Scribb."

"Why?"

"You'll crease your best suit."

"It's all for you, Desdemona. All for you."

We kissed some more.

"You got me a present, Scribb?"

"I tried to."

"Scribble!"

"I tried to get that bag you wanted. Well, I did get it. But..."

"Don't tell me, you lost it?"

"It was --"

"I hate you."

"It was stolen, Des. This guy on the bus. I was bringing it back home. I was going to wrap it and everything. But this guy just snatched it away from me, ran down the stairs, jumped off just as the bus was moving from the stop. I didn't know what to do."

"You know what this means?"

"I know."

"It means we can't go to Platt Fields."

"I know. Why is that?"

"I don't know. Crazy, isn't it?"

"I'm sorry, Des."

"It doesn't matter. We'll just stay in tonight We could --"

"That can't happen. Father... he..."

"Has he been hassling you again?"

"He went for me with the razor before. I was just shaving, you know."

"I know."

"And then... in my room... well, it was bad."

This is a curious house, isn't it, Scribb?"

"It's a bad house."

Then I pulled her blouse free from her belt, to reveal the hard ridges of the scars on her lovely stomach. I put my lips to them, trying to kiss them away. Nothing would work.

"I'm going to kill that man, one day."

"I don't think it's possible, Scribble. He's not real."

I moved back up her body, to look at her eyes again, trying to work out what she meant. I don't think she knew. And neither did I. Just that it was true.

"Thanks for the card, Des."

"What card?"

"My birthday card."

"Don't be silly. It's my birthday, Scribb. Not yours." "No. I mean a few days ago. My twenty-first birthday."

"Scribble, you're only eighteen!"

That stopped me. "Oh god."

"I know. I can remember sending it as well. What's happening, Scribble?"

"I got you a present anyway, Des."

"Show me!"

I put my hand into my jacket pocket, feeling something fluttering there, not knowing what it was until I pulled it out. And then still not knowing.

"Oh Scribb! It's a feather!"

"Looks like it."

"Look at the colours in it. All those yellows! They're just the same colour as the light in this house."

"Just the same. It's curious."

"I keep getting this feeling, Scribble. Like I'm being haunted, or something. I can't work it out. Like there's another world out there, and I just can't get to it."

"I'm getting the same. Can't explain it."

"What does the feather do?"

"I think I'm meant to tickle you with it."

"That's sounds right."

She pulled up her blouse some more, offering me her stomach and breasts. I stroked the yellow feather gently over her body. Starting at the dragon tattoo, and then down, and across, and then up...

"Oh god. That feels good. It's making me see pictures."

"What do you see?"

"Me and you walking away from this house. Growing old together. Keep stroking. That's it. That's good. We're living in a little house, miles from here. Miles away from father. Keep doing it, higher. That's it. On my neck. Feels lovely. Miles away from the pain. On my lips, please, Scribble. Yes! Miles away from the knife. In my mouth now. In my mouth!"

I had the feather poised on my sister's lips, and my whole being was telling me to push further, to let her take it in deep, and I didn't even know why. I just had to do it to her. Gently pushing...

"Scribble!"

"What?"

"Your eyes!"

"What about them?"

"Yellow! They're turning yellow!"

Oh shit!

"Take that feather away, Stephen."

"Father..."

"It is a young boy's game."

I was lying on top of my father, pushing a feather into his mouth. His hands were coming up to hug me. I tried to push the feather in, don't know why, just had to, but his bite clamped down hard on the flights, so that the feather was lodged solid between his teeth. Then his hands came down on my back and I felt the blade going in.

Felt like my back was fire. He stabbed again.

Christ!

The pain was unbearable. I was trying my best to pull away, but his strength was too much for me. I felt the razor tearing its way out of the small of my back, ready for another strike. "Father, please..."

Wait...

"It is all that you deserve, wretched boy!" But as he spoke the feather was loose in his mouth.

This isn't real!

He cursed me then. Called me a sister fucker.

This is Vurt! Jerk out!

The razor biting into me.

No! No, don't jerk out! I was getting the story. There is no jerkout. It just starts again. This is Curious Yellow. And that isn't my father under me. It's my sister. It's Desdemona! This is just a Vurt father. He's living inside Desdemona. There is no going back. No jerking out. You can only go forward.

The razor was cutting into my skin again. The pain was terrible. Blood on my father's face. Must have been my blood.