Mother

   ‘Mother?’

   ‘Yes, dear?’

   ‘I think there is something at the door.’

   Mother’s eyes widened as she glanced across the room. The door was locked, but not the sturdiest. She raised a finger to the lips, then leaned over from the bedside, and kissed the child on the forehead.

   ‘Don’t be scared,’ she whispered. ‘I won’t let anything happen to you.’

   She stroked the child’s damp hair then straightened the folds of her dress. Her shadow, casting large and fuzzy, climbed up the opposing timber wall as she rose. Shoulders back, spine erect, she faced the door.

   The room was sparse - dark, small and windowless. The bed, with stained and limp bedding, lay tucked in the corner, while the old chair kept a silent vigil nearby. Completing the trio of weary siblings who protested any slight movement or touch was a scuffed bedside table. Upon it stood a solitary lamp with its golden glow barely making a dent in the surrounding gloom.

   Mother slid out of her shoes, and carefully tread the few steps to the door. The child watched from the bed with black, sunken eyes as Mother placed her hands on the wood, turning her ear, listening for the presence of an intruder. She cast her gaze over the door. It was slim and weak in its narrow frame, held upright by rusted iron hinges which had shifted slightly with the passage of time. The flaking and curling remnants of its varnish cracked and snapped as she traced her fingertips over the tired grains.

   Her eyes slowly closed.

   There was a darkness on the other side. Of that, she was certain.

   A low and dense growl seeped through the edges of the door. The air in the room recoiled, making way for a choking presence of menace and dread. The message was clear: I am here.

   She froze.

   Her heart pounded as a stone formed in the pit of her stomach. 

   The child whimpered.

   Mother turned, meeting the child’s welling eyes. Struggling to hold back her own anguish, Mother’s lip quivered, triggering the beginnings of a bawl from the child. She quickly stifled it with her tiny shaking hand, then buried herself under the blanket, folding into a small, trembling bundle. Mother stood watching as a single tear teetered on the edge of her cheek.

   The silence shattered with a loud, jagged scrape running down the outside of the door. Harsh echoes ricocheted around the room, rattling the senses, causing the stone in her stomach to rise to her throat. Breathing heavily, she threw her weight against the door.

   Another came. Feeling the pressure, she pushed back harder with palms flat on the door. She held her arms straight, locking the joints of her elbows, fixing her stance against the force on the other side. More scrapes followed with quick rhythmic intent. From the top down, she traced its sequence. Meticulous in its nature, it ploughed through the panel, passing her hands, before a brief pause as it rose back to the top, then down again - a slow methodical carving. 

   Scrape after scrape, it continued. She strained with all her might to hold the pressure from the hinges, summoning every ounce of her strength till her muscles burned and twitched. Beads of sweat formed on the temples, and trickled down her cheeks before dripping off her clenched jaw. Eventually, the aching in her arms became too much to withstand, and she dropped to the floor. She pressed her back against the door, her stockings snagging and tearing as she tried to dig her feet into the rough boards beneath her. She winced as splinters nipped and bit at the flesh of her soles with each frantic slip. When she found her grip, she drew the little strength left in her legs, and held a rigid position.

   Over and over, it persisted. Mother clutched at the roots of her hair as the torment sent vibrations throughout her body. Deep into her bones it burrowed, taunting her with every stroke. Tears fell, panic set, and energy sapped. Her breathing staggered as what was left of her will to fight rapidly dwindled. Succumbing to resignation, she held her head in her hands, and wept.

   Then suddenly, it stopped.

   The room fell silent once more. She sat in the gloom, numb and exhausted, aware of the veins pulsating in her head. She stared at the heap on the bed that was the child, who had dared not move an inch throughout the ordeal. She waited, allowing her breathing to settle. Deeper she sank into the timeless stillness, approaching solace within its depths. Here, she lingered as hope returned, little by little, to clear the fog of her despair.

   The child emerged from under the blanket. They stared at one another, the child seeking reassurance, but finding only fragility in Mother’s tender gaze.

   Before long, Mother mustered some courage, and reaching for the cold, brass door knob, pulled herself up, and peered through the keyhole.

   She was greeted by a piercing amber eye framed in a tangle of coarse dark hair staring back from just a few mere inches. The intensity surged forth, and knocked her back onto the floor.

   A tremendous thud shook the entire room. Mother screamed, and the child wailed as numerous mighty blows rained down upon the door. The lamp fell over, and bounced on the bedside table with every strike that landed, spreading flickering shadows around the room. A raw, primal roar carried itself above the pounding, a harbinger of the savagery that lay just moments away.

   Mother, with skin ghostly grey, and eyes wide and wild, scurried backwards till she hit the bedside table. Her arm reached out, and grabbed the child, whipping her from the bed, and into her sweat and tear soaked bosom. Cowering on the floor, they held onto one another.

   Dust fell from the ceiling, and the door shuddered violently under the relentless onslaught. Slender cracks wove their way through the wood, widening with each brutal strike. Bendings burst, splinters flew, and gaps started to appear revealing glimpses and flashes of tawny brown as the lion continued its ferocious attack.

   ‘Hide!’ Mother screamed. ‘Under the bed!’

   She pushed the child, who scrambled into the tight, pitch-black far corner beneath the bed. From there, the child watched through a watery veil as the hinges and nails fell and scattered among the splinters, instantly followed by the door.

   They held their breaths as the ringing of the final crash faded. Mother pulled her feet closer to her body as the lion’s giant paws stepped onto the fallen door with a smooth, graceful approach. No sound came from the majestic beast as it inched closer with burning eyes locked on its prey. The child buried her head in her arms, broken hearted by the sound of Mother’s desperate sobbing.

   The muscles rippled beneath the lion’s fur, tightening before it lunged. Its powerful front legs slammed down on Mother, pinning her to the bedside table, before claws tore through her dress, and pierced into the flesh. Blood flowed hot and thick from the gashes, and pooled around her body. Screams ripped from her throat, turning into gurgles as teeth sunk deep into her neck and shoulder. The lion then lifted its powerful head, raising Mother from the floor, and thrashed her to a silence.

   When it released its hold, Mother crumpled onto the floor. The lion stood over her, dripping red from its muzzle as its great chest heaved with the effort of the kill. With one final act, it clamped its massive jaws around her leg, and dragged her sodden body off into the night, leaving a dark, wet trail in its wake.

   The child lay still, listening intently to the silence that filled the room. She lifted her head, and looked through the blanket that fluttered gently over the edge of the bed. There was no movement, and no shadows. She crawled out from underneath, and surveyed the debris and devastation. Mother was gone. She was alone. Not knowing what else to do, she climbed back into the bed, curled up and waited. Eventually, her eyes slowly shut.

   When she awoke, her son was holding her hand. He smiled softly, then turned to the girl sitting in the chair, engrossed in her phone.

   ‘Your Nana’s awake. Will you fetch the doctor, sweetheart?’

   The girl beamed a beautiful smile before leaving the room. Moments later, she returned with the doctor.

   ‘How are you feeling?’ the doctor asked.

   ‘Like I could sleep for a year,’

   ‘That’s perfectly normal,’ said doctor. ‘I’m pleased to tell you we’ve removed the tumour completely. However, we’ll keep you here for observations until you’re ready to go home.’

   ‘And it won’t come back?’

   ‘I can’t promise that,’ the doctor admitted, ‘but we’ll do everything we can to prevent it. For now, don’t worry about that, okay? We’ll discuss it in more detail later. The most important thing is for you to rest.’

   ‘Okay, I’ll try,’ she said, smiling weakly. ‘Thank you, doctor.’

   ‘You’re welcome.’