Uncle Victors shabby cottage on the edge of the village is avoided by everyone. Thats easy enough: Victor lives on the fringe, almost out in the fields. He is a solitary, taciturn man. His appearance matches his reputation: hunched, scruffy, in a grimy checkered shirt and camouflage trousers patched at the knees. His hair is matted and grey, his cheeks weatherblown. Strangely, Victor never drinks a drop.
Tenyearold Harry is scared of Victor. His mother sighs and says, He used to be a good bloke, handy as anything! All the girls in Lilymarsh envied him, thinking, What a husband hed make! His father adds, He went hunting six years ago and never came back right. His son died, then he lost his mind! his mother argues.
Harrys mother is friends with Aunt Lucy, Victors exwife. Whenever Lucy visits, she sighs, Oh, dear, Im sorry for him, but I cant live like this. First Tommy dies, then Victor stabs me in the back! She never explains exactly what Victor did, even to Harrys mother, her best friend. Aunt Lucy still feels the loss of her only threeyearold son, and Victors betrayal hits her hard.
Rumours swirl: some say Victor finally took to drinking, others claim a curse fell over the land after the childs death and the subsequent divorce. A darker whisper tells of a strange creature seen near Victors house, looking like a gaunt, hunched man with greyish skin and long, thin arms.
Tell me, what did he do? someone asks.
No choice, dear, Lucy sighs, refusing to say more.
The summer this year is hot and dry. Harry, Tom and Eddie ride their bikes to the river alone for the first time. They spend whole days on the bank, swimming and fishing. When they catch plenty of fish, Harry dries them in the sun, and at night the boys snack on dried roach instead of peanuts, so Harry always gulps down several mugs of water before bedtime.
The shortcut to the river runs past Victors overgrown plot, thick with weeds and wild maples. His cottage looks miserable: roof mottled green with moss, shutters hanging by one nail. A lone satellite dish perched absurdly on the roof hints that someone still lives there.
The three know the gossip about Victor and try not to look back when they pass his land.
Harry, have you heard what theyre saying about Victor? Tom asks, reeling in his line.
Loads of stuff, all different, Harry says, shoving a bacon sandwich out of his pack.
What about the grey man? Eddie chimes in, tossing a fat roach into his bucket.
Folks around here swear they see themgrey, green, whateverwhen they stare too long! Tom laughs.
The day feels perfect, and the boys are so absorbed in fishing they dont notice the sun slipping toward dusk. The water reflects the pink glow of evening clouds, crickets chirp, frogs croak their night songs.
Better pack it up, lads, Moms getting worried! Harry says, glancing at the darkening sky.
As they gather their gear, the sun has already dropped, and warm summer twilight settles. They hurry home. Suddenly, the chain on Toms bike snaps.
Harry, Eddie, wait! Tom shouts, jumping off.
He crouches to fix the chain when a rustle comes from the bushes and twigs crack.
Did you hear that? Eddie whispers, eyes wide.
Something big, Harry whispers back, a shiver running down his spine. Tom, help me, and lets get out of here.
The rustling repeats, closer this time. Tom and Harry struggle to pull the chain back into place. Just as they manage, a gaunt figure peeks out of the shrubs.
Its a thin, greytoned being, vaguely human, with a bald, small head, about the height of a tenyearold, and unnaturally long, spindly arms ending in clawlike fingers. Its huge, pitchblack eyes stare at them. It emits a crackling sound, bares tiny sharp teeth, and has two round breathing holes where a nose should be.
Mum! What is that?! Tom yells, and the boys hop on their bikes and sprint away, forgetting the bucket of fish on the ground.
Harry glances back for a split second and sees the creature clumsily tumble toward the bucket, stare inside, and snatch a fish with its hooked fingers. Then a hoarse voiceVictorscalls from the cottage. The monster turns obediently toward the house, lets out a sound like a human cry, and lumbers back.
Before they part, the boys swear theyll never ride past Victors cottage again. Of course, each of them receives a good scolding at home for the delay.
The kitchen smells of fresh batter, and mum hums a tune to herself. Harry sneaks to the door and listens. Mum isnt too angry, and the scent of hot pancakes beckons, easing his fear of a stern mother.
The front door slams open: its their father, a farm security guard, back from a night shift.
Hey, Lucy, is Harry still asleep? he asks, his voice tinged with excitement.
Yes, Mike, whats up? You look spooked, mum replies casually.
We found Sam Merzlkin by the river. Something ripped him apart, some kind of beast, the father says, breathless.
Oh my God! mum exclaims.
The police are here, questioning witnesses. Some lads were out fishing overnight, heard screams. They say they saw something flash bylike a person, but not a person. Thin, tiny, greyish.
Harrys heart thunders. Thats exactly the creature they saw yesterday near Victors house! He decides he must tell his parents everything.
He rushes out of his room and shouts, Mum, Dad! We saw a thing by Victors cottage yesterday. It wasnt humanterrifying!
The next minutes unfold in a blur. Harrys dad phones Antons and Toms parents, who then call the other villagers. Within moments, almost the whole village gathers at Victors cottage. The community decides to act immediately. Within minutes, everyone heads toward the overgrown plot.
After the adults leave, Tom and Eddie race after them, curiosity blazing.
As they approach the cottage, an eerie, inhuman shriek pierces the air, followed by several gunshotsvillagers, some of whom are hunters, fire. Then Victors desperate scream echoes.
No one notices the three boys as they creep closer. A crowd forms around a grotesque sight: a body lying in a pool of blood, ordinary human blood, on the ground. Victor, sobbing, leans over it.
My son my boy! Why did this happen? he cries.
Which boy? Hes Sam, isnt he? Harrys dad says tiredly.
He couldnt have done it himself. Sam must have provoked something. I found him while hunting. I heard someone crying, followed a tunnel, heard a childs wail. My heart was still hurting from losing Tommy I peeked in and there he was, tiny, just like Tommy. He ran from one creature to another, both trapped. I thought his parents were there. He came to me, crying, thin hands reaching out I took him, and he clung to me, trembling, frightened. He understood everything, even loved TVscifi, cartoons, sweet treats. He was a teenager, just like your Harry, Mike. Victor addresses Harrys father, And you jump straight to judgement without an inquiry!
A monster! Aunt Lucy shouts, arriving at the scene. Why didnt you leave it there? Maybe its kin would have found it.
Look! Victor snarls, We are the monsters, not them! Weve felled the woods, polluted rivers and seas, turned every scrap of land into our playground. Where can they hide? Everywhere there are people, people, people! Nothings left for them. Why did we kill its parents?
The crowd stares at Victor, mourning his twisted son. The corpse lies still, its long arms splayed, black eyes fixed on the sky.
Let me bury it, if youre not beasts, Victor pleads, wiping tears from a dirtsmudged cheek.
Harry feels an unexpected pity for Victor and his son, for Sam caught in the creatures claws. Everyone is a victim. He even regrets for a second that he told his parents everything.
They do not let Victor destroy the monsters remains. Police arrive, disperse the crowd, then soldiers in uniform sweep through the village, ordering silence under threat of legal action. No one knows where they take the strange body. Victor, broken, dies less than a year after the monsters death, as if the loss of his child took his will. His cottage finally collapses, overtaken by impenetrable brambles.
