Mam-gu

Mam-gu

(pronounced Maem-gee, Welsh for grandmother)

Trigger children under threat

Despite the early spring, frost still sparkled in the sharp light. Clouds filtered any warmth from the evening sun, Safiya trembled, aching for longer days when light promised hope. Arthur led the way, his footsteps left tiny depressions in the turf, verdant islands surrounded by the undisturbed frost. Were it any warmer their feet would sink ankle deep into the waterlogged earth and they would have to take the long way home. Safiya yearned to be home, the countryside, so big, so empty, so silent, “you’ll get used to it” her mother had said. Safiya wondered how long she would miss the noise of the city, the people, her friends, even the smell, “that’s pollution” she would says, as though the other things did not matter. At the corner of the field Arthur mounted the gate, the chain locking it rattled, shaking under his weight and he scrambled over. Arthur paused looking right and then left. Safiya quickly scaled the gate, not waiting for Peter who had already begun his ascent. “Safiya” he complained as the gate swung violently against the give of the chain that held it from opening. “You need to climb at the hinge, it’s easier, bloody townie”. She jumped down and headed to the left “Come on” she said.

“No” said Arthur “this way” moving down the right path. Peter snickered.

“Not this again” she said

“What’s the matter, scared?”

“No” clenching her fists at her side.

“Go home if you want”.

Arthur and Peter took off laughing and shoving at each other. Safiya did want to go home, staring down the path, the path home. It was already so dark, it led between the fences of back gardens, the fading light swallowing the path as it turned and bore away in the distance. She took a step, but horror seemed to await her behind that bend, the quiet and the unknown. Turning, she ran after the boys. The path skirted another field on their right, whilst the left backed onto fences from the new estate, the estate where Safiya lived. The path left these behind and merged into one surrounded by twisted tress that led to the cottage. Safiya hated it, but until Arthur had invited her, no one had talked to her at school.

Arthur pushed the gate, issuing a loud creak, “careful” Peter hissed. Arthur glared at Peter “We don’t have much time” and he pushed further, just enough for them to squeeze through. The garden, a tangle of monstrous bushes, tall grass and weeds, threatened to swamp them, but the narrow path they took was well trodden from years of use. Safiya thought the cottage looked old, but then virtually everything here seemed old. Arthur had called it the witch’s house when they had first come, mother had said people were more superstitious here. They continued round the cottage, it seemed to slant to one side, the lack of any straight lines made her nauseous. Most people avoided it, but children like Arthur had been coming for generations to test their mettle,

“Do we have to, can't we just go and play FIFA?”, said Peter, but Arthur was already moving the wood and the rocks used to cover the cellar window; the only window or door not boarded up on the house.

“Won’t take long, since your both chicken” said Arthur.

Peter looked at Safiya, but she felt a burning sensation in her cheeks. Three times Arthur had brought her here, and three times she had bolted from the cellar, back through the window, with Arthur’s laugh stinging her pride. At school they said that anyone in the cottage after dark would meet Mam-gu, and so the game had started to see who could outlast all the others, who would be the bravest.

“But it’s already near dark” whispered Peter.

“It’s time”.

Reluctantly Peter took a deep breath and he and Arthur began the rhyme, Safiya mumbled along, still not knowing the words.

Wrap a tap tap

Mam-gu sets her trap

Come dearies for treats

Treasure for her kittens

Best be fleet

And do her biddings

Dance little dears

Mam-gu will see you sleep

Wipe those tears

Treats for her sweets

Wrap a tap tap

Arthur finished by wrapping his hand against the wall.

“Why do we even have to say that stupid thing?”said Safiya

“Dunno, just do, lets go”, Arthur crouched down and slid through the open window on his belly, extending his arms he disappeared into darkness, Peter following. Safiya hesitated and looked towards home, bringing a sense of mother to mind “there’s nothing to be afraid of” and then she too slid into the darkness.

The musty smell of mould choked her, how could a smell be wet she wondered, wet and earthy. Arthur and Peter stood by the closed door leading to the rest of the cottage.

“Did too”

“Did not”, Peter turned “Arthur says he’s been in the rest of the house”

Safiya scoffed. Upon the wall the light from the window projected a dulling grey square of light. “It’s getting dark…You don’t want to be here after dark” said Arthur, he smiled staring at Peter and then Safiya and laughed. Safiya crossed her arms, behind the others she watched the diminishing square of light. Peter shuffled, almost dancing, “Aww come one”. No one moved. Arthur simply stared, a rictus grin on his face. Safiya felt a rising gorge in her throat as she looked into the extremities of the room, now hidden in shadow. She imagined them extending forever and in that never-ending blackness unimaginable horrors, she thought about all the times she had been alone in the dark, that what the eye could not see would break the mind were it revealed. Lying in bed she would scream for mother, and glacially she would come, eyes half-closed sighing “Safiya, what is it?”. She felt the same now, as though some beast sat upon her chest, the nausea expanded from her stomach and into her throat. A freezing claw stretching to grasp her heart, struggling she tried to catch her breath.

“Five things you can see” Safiya heard her mother say. Arthur, his stupid smile plastered on his face, the square of light now barely discernible, Arthur’s shaking hand and behind him the open door to the upper floors. “Four things you can touch”, the phone in her pocket, the palm of her hand squeezed tight, the fabric of her coat and the tear slowly running down her cheek. “Three things you can hear”, her rapid breathing, a soft murmur seemingly coming from Arthur and a tapping sound. “Two things you can smell”, the stale wetness of the cellar, musty and sharp and the light hint of something syrupy, coppery yet sweet. “One thing you can taste”, her mouth, too dry, but all she could think was fear.

The cellar now all, but dark, she could barely make out Arthur’s face, transformed from fear to loathing. “Come on, its dark” shouted Peter and he ran to the window. Arthur barged past Safiya, pushing her deep into the shadows whilst he scrambled back through the window. Safiya heard a whisper “Hello deary”, she screamed and ran to the window, gripping the ledge she tried to haul herself up. “Help me” she said, reaching through the window grasping for either of their hands. Arthur came towards her, he knelt by the window, reaching out, but rather than taking her hand he began re-covering the window, piling the wood and rocks back in front of it.

She sobbed as her strength gave way dropping down to the floor. She pressed her back against the wall, staring desperately into the darkness, it seemed to swell and swirl as though a denser blackness writhed within. Again she heard a tapping sound “I have something for you to do, my sweet”, Safiya froze, terror stealing her voice.

Arthur woke, a cold sweat chilled him, rearranging his bedding he tried cover himself against the chill. Still the room felt like ice. He shifted, the chill refusing to ease, looking around he saw a silhouette, a figure against the window, “Safiya?”

“Treats for my sweets” she said.