Hades' Dustbin

Hades’ Dustbin

1

This is Hades’ Dustbin. It holds the exit from Hell’s Gate. These are its guardians; Olly 

and Frank. They secure the gate. Well, that was the idea anyway.

 In her youth, Security Officer Olly, had been the proud owner of a lustrous Fire-Red 

mane. Now in her middle years, Burnt-Orange clumps grew between her broken,

stubby horns. She had also developed a disconcerting resting snarl-face along the 

way: Frank, or Francis! when Olly had really had enough of him, liked to spend his 

Hades’ Dustbin nightshift, hooves on the Welcome, Support And Information Desk as 

he sipped whichever coffee was the current hellish fad and swivelled on his wheelie 

chair, slowly, from side to side, never wasting time worrying about anything other than

how many shots his Murderous-Mochaccino contained – which had to be at least six.

This evening Ria had drawn the Duty Manager short straw. She pursed her lips. 

Ria always attempted to count to ten before speaking to Olly and Frank - but this night, 

this night she only made it as far as three. ‘ ONE FUCKING JOB!’, she exploded - I’m 

surrounded by Fuckwits! ‘No. No, you two...,’ Ria hissed as she waved a finger shaking 

with rage, ‘ ...you two, give fuckwits a bad name!’.

Olly and Frank stared at her. If they were honest - and that was never likely, they 

knew exactly the reasons for Ria’s outburst: Ephraim, and Doris, Delderfield.

Classified as Non-Human Resources Issues, The Delderfields, flooded Ria with

requests to cross over from the Dark Realm back to the mortal one - a place they had 

no place crossing back over into - to pursue interests they might like to develop further,

if given time; Ria, grown tired of stamping REQUEST DENIED had resorted to ignoring

them.

  Ria stared into their empty lockers and sighed, ‘Fucking Hell!’, then tipped Frank 

out of his chair.

Delderfield Cottage had stood for three centuries, or more accurately, crumbled, on

the edge of Trumentoul village at the base of Beinn Mahoun, where the mountain 

streams feed the River Deil, and save the twittering birds all was still as Ephraim

Delderfield squinted at a small metal sign hanging off what used to be his garden wall.

 ‘What’s a bra-saree whatsit, Dorr?’. Doris Delderfield shrugged,

 ‘Dunno.’. Doris frowned. She pointed, one grey and gnarly finger at a chalkboard

sitting in the weeds next to what had been their garden path, ‘What’s a Carrot “cake”

taste like!?’. Her husband raised his eyebrows,

  ‘ Carrots?’. 

 Ephraim shrugged. He shook his head slowly as Doris’s frown sank into wistful 

longing, ‘ I’ve missed cake Effy.’, she said.

 ‘ I’ve missed your sponge cake, Dorr luv. It was bloody good!’, as Doris blushed

Ephraim squeezed her hand, ‘ And I’ve missed making you blush.’, he whispered.

 Doris narrowed her eyes. Ephraim put his head to one side. Together they 

weighed up the opportunity which had just unwittingly presented itself to them. ‘Well,’ 

Ephraim said finally, ‘ he’s big enough I’ll grant you!’. At that moment innocent

bystander, Kyle, clicked his “Fag Ends” tin shut and thought he didn’t have a bad job,

as jobs went. Admittedly it would get a bit cold in the winter certainly, but he had his 

warm hidey holes already sussed out and there was plenty of fresh air he supposed

if you liked that sort of thing; out in the sunshine during the summer, so yeah, not a

bad job at all this Museum of The Macabre gig.

It would be newly appointed Rural Museum of The Macabre Visitor Assistant Kyle Laughlin’s last thought. Doris looked around the Café Courtyard where back in her day she had housed the pigs, ‘ There’s a wheelbarrow over there Effy, look.’, she pointed, ‘We can put him in that - he’ll be lighter now he’s in two halves won’t he?’. Ephraim scratched his head. ‘ Bit messy love.’. He leant his bony elbow on the handle of his bloodied scythe as Doris stared at him, ‘Well, you’ve always complained about the mess before! I’m just saying Dorr love, that’s all!’. Doris threw her hands in the air, ‘Put him in the barrow Ephraim!’.

Just to the right of Delderfield Cottage, outside a small, slightly tilting, wooden ticket

hut, a Tour Guide adjusted her name badge and cleared her throat.

She took a swig from her reusable water bottle. ‘ Sorry. Bit dry. Anyway, as I was

saying, Ephraim and Doris were notorious in their day. Locals believed the murderous couple to be demons disguised in human form. Our tour will begin inside Ephraim and Doris’s cottage which, save some essential conservation work to maintain the building, has been left untouched since the evil couple were dragged from it - Tae be hang’ed by their necks till they be deid and banish ’ed tae heil fir ever maire - Your tour will last thirty minutes. Please feel free to take photographs, no flashing. Follow me, folks’.

Doris’s eyes sparkled. She grinned as the group approached, ‘ We got a proper

baker’s dozen at least here Effy! Welcome them in love. Welcome them in’. But

Ephraim looked doubtful. ‘ Don’t worry Effy love.’, Doris peered out of the cottage’s

grimy sash window and took a quick headcount, ‘Fifteen! We did more than that in

Saint Giles! Remember? We shut em in the crypt!’. Ephraim scratched his nose,

‘ I s’ppose.’, he conceded as the Tour Guide, Joanna, enunciated clearly from outside what was left of the Delderfields’ front door,

‘This, is Ephraim and Doris’s cottage!’, Joanna flourished her arms.

‘ They might not come in Dorr love.’.

‘…and now we’ll go in.’. One of the tourists grinned at Joanna, ‘ Excuse me.’, he said, ‘ Excuse me, but is that supposed to move on its own - the effects are very good here, aren’t they?’.

‘ Sorry?’, she frowned,

‘ The front door? The front door just closed by itself I mean.’. Joanna lowered her voice,

‘Well’, she leant in conspiratorially, ‘ there have been tales of supernatural activity

linked with this cottage of course.’. She gave him a wink; it always helped to be a bit

chummy.

‘ Oh, of course.’. The tourist laughed, 'Add on an extra fiver for that do you?’.

Ephraim’s scythe separated the laughing tourist’s head from the rest of him in one

blow. The tour group cheered, ‘ He’s right.’ said the tourist’s newly widowed wife,

‘The effects are very good!’. Everyone else nodded their approval – well, except her

husband. His head was now six feet from his body and rolling towards the back door

as his widow continued, ‘How did you manage to do that? My Fred was in on it I

suppose he’d have to be. He never let on though! The bugger!’.

Doris frowned as Ephraim surveyed his work. ‘ We’re gunna need more barrows Doris.’,

‘ You’ve got blood all over my floor! That’ll be there permanent now!’.

‘ We should really move on you know love. This’ll be the first place they’ll look

Dorr. ’, but Doris had already begun searching the kitchen shelves, ‘ Dorr?’.

‘ Hmm?’,

‘ Maybe we could go somewhere we can retire, you know put our hooves up so to

speak?’. Doris’s hand paused over the handle of an enormous cooking pot.

’ Well, I heard Arran was nice Effy. Scotland in miniature they call it don’ they?’.

‘ Yeah. Yeah that’s right love’,

‘ But, what would we do?,’,

‘ Nowt love. That’s the point of retiring, isn’ it?’. Ephraim looked hopeful as Doris

propped her recipe book open.

‘ Well, get on with it then Effy.’, she said.

Ephraim lit a fire with Kyle’s Laughlin’s matches then set about stripping Kyle’s

Laughlin’s flesh from Kyle’s Laughlin’s bones. ‘ No, no. The meat’s always tastier on

the bone love!’ Doris advised, ‘ You just need to strip ‘em, hack ‘em, and chuck ‘em

in the pot.’.

‘ Well, I’ll leave the recipe to you as usual my love.’, Ephraim smiled. Doris smiled

back,

‘ Stew for two hours; drain and season to taste, and Bob’s yer uncle!’.

‘ Happy days!’, smiled Ephraim,

‘ Happy days!’, echoed Doris.

Ria toed what was left of the tour group, ‘ No imagination’. She shook her head as

Frank nodded,

‘ Yup,’ he said, ‘ they always go back to places they know, Escapees.’ Ria wiped the toe of her boot with the remnants of the kitchen curtains and tossed the now bloodstained Periwinkle and Sunflower patterned material back on the floor where she’d found it,

‘ Alright. Frank, you look upstairs. Olly, we’ll take down hear.’ ‘ Wait! Why do I have to go upstairs on my own!?’. Holding her officially issued Duty Manager ’s Evil Retrieval Taser in front of her,

‘ Oh for God’s sake Frank! Fine, we’ll all go upstairs!’, Ria led them up the narrow,

twisting staircase.

Looks like they’ve had a good feed at least.’, Olly said. ‘They won’ be hungry then eh?’, she explained sounding relieved. ‘ Shut the fuck up Olly!’.

‘ Don’t you tell me to shut the fuck up Francis! I don’t like this. We don’t hunt the

buggers!’. Ria turned on Olly,

‘ No. No Olly, you and Frank, STAY THE FUCK AWAKE..KEEP THE FUCKING GATES OF HELL LOCKED!’. At this point Frank raised an index finger.

‘ Actually, actually we are meant to “ monitor The Gates of Hell” there’s nothing in…’. Ria glared at him. With a look reminiscent of The Boss, she opened her mouth and Frank thought better than to finish his sentence. He nodded at a framed picture of a smiling Ephraim and Doris on their wedding day instead, and changed the conversation.

Almost entirely covered by foxing, hanging crookedly in a frame more woodworm than wood, their wedding picture hung between the bedroom’s sash windows, ‘ How do we know no one else got out? Except these two then?’. Ria held up her Taser towards Frank. Covered in small Red bulbs two of them were flashing, ‘ If it was left up to you Rip Van Fucking Twinkle, we wouldn’t! When these bulbs stop flashing,’,

‘ Yeah?’, Frank nodded,

‘ Then we’ve got the escapees.’. Olly frowned.

‘ Head Office’ll have a full list of whose banned from the mortal realm though won’t they Ria?’

‘ I’d shut up if I were you mate.’ whispered Frank. Ria rounded on Olly,

Yes Olly. Head Office will have a list. The Boss will have a list. Would you like me to tell The Boss why we need it?’

‘ Not really. No.’.

Frank sat on a three legged, wood worm infested stool beside the bed, ‘Wait! You’re not going to tell anyone they’ve absconded!?’. Ria sat on the bed,

‘ I’ve only been Duty Manager for a few weeks! I’ll have to think!’.

‘ Ria?’,

‘ I’m thinking Olly! I just need to…’,

‘ Yeah, I know. It’s just, the lights on your tasey thing? They’ve all lit up and, and smoke’s cumin out of it!’,

‘ Ooo’ said Frank, ‘ That can’t be good can it?’. Ria raised her face from her hands,

‘ Olly?’,

‘ Yeah?’,

‘ You did shut the gates again before we left? I mean, YOU DID SHUT THE

FUCKING GATES OF HELL!?’

Ephraim and Doris Delderfield held hands as they watched The Caledonia Isles on its last return journey of the day make its approach manoeuvre into Ardrossan Harbour Ferry Terminal. Ephraim peered at his reflection in the Plexiglas queue shelter, ‘Boat’s cumin, look.’, said Doris.Kyle Laughlin’s face peered back at Ephraim, ‘ How many d’you think live on Arran Effy love?’. ‘ Dunno.’, he said. ‘They get lots of tourists though. I do know that Doris love.’. Ephraim side-eyed his wife, ‘Hey! Now! We’re retiring. Remember!?’. Joanna looked back at him. She squeezed his hand and smiled, ‘ Oh, I dunno Effy luv - life in the old dogs yet, eh?.’.