The Mother Of All Things: Godless Creatures, #1

This inhuman place makes human monsters.

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Stephen King

‘The Shining’

1

Sunday 13 August

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Elaine’s eyes laboured to open, dazzled by the glare from the chandelier above. She blinked several times to shake off the haze and regain focus. Her distorted vision lingered on the wavering webs of dust that dangled from the fake crystals before drifting to the split paintwork on the ceiling and the tattered wallpaper curling from the tops of the walls. Cobwebs oscillated high up, born in the corners they’d extended along the coving over time.

Elaine took a huge gulp and followed it with a frown. Pain flared across her face, and she reached up to identify why it hurt so much. Pulling her hand away, it was covered in a blend of sticky and dried blood, with layers of red running all the way down her arm, concealing her pale skin. Raising her head from the floor, she took in an even more disconcerting sight: the white towel around her body was a montage of bloodied shades. Where had it all come from? It couldn’t be hers; the only discomfort was on her face.

Her breathing intensified, and she became aware of an unpleasant metallic smell. She pulled a face as her taste buds burst to life with the salty and bitter aftertaste of blood. The coppery tang brought back memories of her childhood, when she used to suck on the chain of a necklace – a much-loved gift from her best friend.

The towel stuck to the encrusted blood on her chest as she rolled off the worn rug near the foot of the stairs. Weary, she raised herself onto her hands and knees. Her hair, discoloured and matted with blood, drooped over her face as she fixed her gaze on the faded varnish of the floorboards. Disorientated, she took a couple of deep breaths, so many thoughts vying for first place in her mind. Of late, she’d gained some control over her life, grown in confidence, and garnered strength. Was this a step backwards in her recovery? She hoped not.

Failing to dredge up an explanation, Elaine paused to collect herself. Compelled to look to her right, her eyes settled upon the body of a masked man lying a few feet away, his torso encircled by a pool of semi-congealed blood. She gasped and moved a hand to cover her mouth. What made her look? Was it nothing more than an impulse, or did she know a dead man lay in her hallway?

A tall, muscular man by the look of him. Could he be the intruder she’d encountered before? The dead man’s wide eyes stared accusingly through the peepholes in her direction. How could this have happened? Her mind in chaos, she drew a blank. The black handle of a long knife protruded from the side of the man’s neck, the blade embedded beneath the surface of his skin. Recognising the three silver spots on the handle, she concluded it had come from the block in her kitchen.

Elaine endeavoured to stand, her whole body straining to function. She swept aside the strands of hair stuck to her bloodied face. Unable to think straight and increasingly agitated, she stood still, kneading the ends of her hair between her thumb and fingers, surprised to discover it was damp. With a glance at the towel around her, she presumed she’d been in the bath at some point. Casting her eyes over the body, she grasped the severity of her situation. She needed answers – answers that weren’t exactly forthcoming. Was her mind playing tricks on her? It wouldn’t be the first time.

‘Come on, woman! Think, damn you, think,’ she said, her frustration boiling over, desperate to understand her predicament.

She was in the long hallway of her house, the shabby front door wide open to the night. At the other end of the hall, the kitchen light spilled under the closed door. Opposite Elaine was the darkened living room, where she recalled an angry exchange of words with her mother earlier that evening before stomping upstairs to take a bath. A good soak usually helped her to relax. While revelling in the comfort of hot water and bubbles, there was a knock at the front door – a rude interruption of her peaceful moment. She chose to ignore it. After the second knock, her anger resurfaced, and she stepped out of the bath. Wrapped in a towel, she stormed down the stairs in a huff and opened the door. That was the last thing she remembered.

Elaine assessed the burly figure, clocking his unclasped belt, the button on his jeans undone, and his fly at half-mast. Had she prevented this man from carrying out an appalling act? She shuddered at the thought.

Hesitant, Elaine moved closer to the body. Keeping her distance, she crouched, stretched out an arm, and took hold of the black material. Consumed with a yearning to see his face, she was afraid – afraid it might be someone she recognised. With caution and a grimace, Elaine peeled the balaclava upwards to reveal the hidden features behind the hostile mask.

An incredulous shriek escaped her as she let go of the balaclava and shot to her feet. Shocked to learn who the dead man was, Elaine retreated until her back smacked against the bannisters. It wasn’t good. It wasn’t good at all.

‘Well, this doesn’t look great, does it, my girl?’ a voice spoke from behind her.

Elaine glanced over her shoulder at the unexpected intrusion. Her mother, Margaret, stood at the foot of the stairs.

‘I don’t know what happened, Mum, I really don’t.’

‘Pretty obvious if you ask me,’ said Margaret. ‘He’s dead, you’re alive, and your kitchen knife is stuck in his neck. It doesn’t take a genius to work out you killed him.’

Nothing was real to Elaine. She wanted to run through the entire incident in her mind, but everything after opening the front door . . . obliterated from memory. Not knowing what to do, she stood, frozen to the spot, her body trembling. Her mother walked forward and placed her wrinkled hands on her daughter’s cheeks.

‘Calm yourself, child. You know what you have to do.’

‘I don’t, Mum. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do,’ she whimpered, tears filling her eyes.

Margaret slapped her daughter’s cheek. ‘Now stop with the tears! You do know.’

The clock on the console table ticked loudly as she re-evaluated her situation before going through a complete shift in her manner.

‘You’re right, Mother – I do,’ said a calm and dispassionate Elaine.

2

Wednesday 8 August

5 Years Earlier

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The day had been long and eventful. Now, well into the evening, the sun had removed itself from view as dusk surrendered to the night. Robert and Elaine had taken their three children to the circus in Finsbury Park. They’d enjoyed performances from the trapeze artists, a strong man, jugglers, tightrope walkers, watched a brilliant horse show, and let’s not forget the clowns, oh – so many clowns. Charlie was amazed at how many fitted inside a Mini Cooper.

As they left the big top, the boys argued about which was the best performance, an argument that soon ended when they were greeted by the clowns, waving goodbye and having photos taken with children. A photographer bumped into Elaine.

‘Sorry, my love,’ he said, gesturing a single-handed apology. ‘How about a photo of your boys with one of the clowns?’ he was eager to add, which alerted Elaine to the bump being intentional to get her attention.

‘They’re reasonably priced,’ he continued.

Before Elaine or Robert could respond, Charlie and Michael were either side of a dishevelled clown waiting for their picture to be taken. Elaine’s chest tightened. The camera flashed – a searing pain arose behind her eyes, and shockwaves surged through her head. After many years, she knew the signs and sometimes had the strength to suppress her anxiety. She closed her eyes to focus and took a few deep breaths. Of late, she’d been practising mindfulness, and on this occasion, managed to put it to good use. Busy holding Emily and watching the boys have their separate photos taken with a clown, Robert hadn’t noticed her attack. Elaine’s breathing returned to normal, and she opened her eyes as the boys approached, smiles aplenty.

An enchanting vintage fair accompanied the circus. Typically, the children couldn’t resist, and mum and dad gave in to their requests. As well as the children, Robert and Elaine were equally impressed to see the ornate and refurbished antique rides restored to their former glory. As the evening progressed, they all went on one attraction or another but soon got hungry and stopped for a bite to eat. Robert chose a hot dog, while Michael and Emily opted to share a cone of chips. As for Elaine and Charlie, there was no way they’d pass up the opportunity to have their favourite: hot, sugared ring doughnuts.

Robert had spent most of the evening carrying Emily. Her two-year-old legs were only willing to take her so far before her arms stretched out to Daddy. They all agreed the carousel would be the final ride of the evening. Emily sat with her mother in an elegant looking carriage, decorated white and gold with beautiful red leather seating. Dad joined the boys in riding the magnificent shiny white steeds. With grace and poise, they rose up and down on the elegant golden poles, etched with smooth spiralling curves.

Elaine took great pleasure in watching her family. The days when they spent quality time like this together were sadly infrequent. The children’s faces were a pretty picture of innocence, hope, and smiles that brought a delightful warmth to her heart. As for Robert, he looked handsome and set an example as a great father. What more could a wife and mother want? She wished this moment – this fleeting feeling of happiness, love, and pride would last forever, but she knew that would be too much to ask. Robert would somehow ruin it, as he always did. It was unlikely to be tonight, but he would, and she’d be stupid enough to forgive him, as she always did. Elaine didn’t know if she truly loved him any more. He’d done so much damage already. Her life . . . caught in a snare. Robert would cheat on her and she’d find out about it. Then would come the quarrel, followed by his apology, his tears of not wanting to be away from his children, her tears of being alone, her weakness, followed by her forgiveness.

Despite knowing she was a fool to keep forgiving him, her fear of fighting her mental health problems single-handed was too much to bear. He knew her better than anyone. Whenever she plummeted into an abyss of emptiness, Robert took the time to piece her back together. Sometimes he would see the warning signs and do his best to keep her from being consumed by her depression. Not that it always worked. On the flip side, he also fed her dark days with his philandering. She knew he didn’t love her, how could he? Their marriage had an expiry date, and they both knew it.

***

Mounted on a horse in the middle row with a son either side of him, Robert’s attention strayed to a striking young woman standing on the grass close to the carousel. Wearing a long grey trench coat, she smiled as she watched him. He recognised her immediately, and by the time the carousel completed a full turn, any trace of a smile on his face had faded. When he caught Elaine staring at him, he pinned on another grin. The woman turned and strolled away. As the carousel slowed down, Robert took note of which direction the woman had wandered.

As the family left the carousel, Michael and Emily were quick to point and plead for the Ferris wheel to be the last ride. For ten-year-old Charlie, who was afraid of heights, it was out of the question. Two years younger, Michael seized the opportunity to mock his brother, the likeliest reason he was so eager to go on it in the first place. On this occasion, Elaine quickly shot down their pleas, but Robert sided with the children.

‘Oh, come on, El. Let them have a go on the big wheel,’ he said, before turning to the children, ‘This is definitely the last one, okay?’

In response to their mother’s conceding smile, Michael and Emily scampered to join the queue. While they waited in line to board the Ferris wheel, Robert took Charlie over to the hall of mirrors.

‘Dad, when can we pick up the photographs?’ Charlie asked as they walked towards the attraction.

‘If they’re ready, we’ll collect them on the way to the car park.’

As they approached the booth, he glared towards the shaded gap between the hall of mirrors and the coconut shy, where the woman who’d previously drawn his attention patiently waited.

‘Hey, Charlie! How would you like to be a big boy and go into the hall of mirrors on your own?’

‘Yeah, cool,’ said Charlie, excited and pleased at the show of trust.

Robert paid the attendant as Charlie went up the steps towards the entrance.

‘I’ll be waiting for you right here,’ he called out as he watched Charlie disappear through the lightweight swing door.

They’d all been inside the hall of mirrors earlier, so Robert was aware he had around ten minutes before Charlie got bored and found his way out. He glanced back at the Ferris wheel. Though Elaine might see him, he was prepared to take the risk. Robert slipped down the side of the attraction, snatched the woman’s hand, and led her around the back, out of sight.

‘Chloé, what the hell are you doing here?’ he asked, regretting he’d mentioned the family night out when they’d spoken earlier today.

‘I know how you like the danger,’ she replied in her soft French accent.

She leaned in to kiss him on the lips while her hand strayed down to his groin, bringing a smile to his face. Retreating in a slow, alluring way, Chloé unbuttoned her long coat. As her back pressed against the large lorry, she opened the coat to display her nakedness. Gazing at her beautiful pale skin, his smile widened. Swept up in a deluge of passion, he moved towards her.

Out of control, their lips came together, expelling heavy breaths and fervent murmurs. With all thoughts of his family eclipsed, Robert’s hands moved up and over the soft skin of Chloé’s hips to her pert breasts. Forcing the flesh together, he lowered his mouth and tightened his lips around her hard nipple, sucking and pulling while his fingers descended between her legs. She released high-pitched moans of pleasure as he caressed her. Eyes locked, their tongues clashed again. Unfastening his belt and the button on his jeans, Chloé eased them down and moved her legs further apart. He grabbed the backs of her thighs and lifted her off the ground. He loved how it felt to be inside her. The forbidden lust. He had an irresistible need to be desired by another woman, particularly this woman, and she craved him with as much avidity.

***

Robert stepped out of the shadows into the light of the fairground and waited next to the hall of mirrors. He stared at the stationary Ferris wheel as people disembarked and boarded the capsules. For a moment, he stewed on whether Elaine had already left the ride, but then, right at the top, he saw her and the children. They appeared to be exploring the magnificent view. Elaine pointed into the distance, and he guessed she was highlighting the tower block that loomed over their neighbourhood. Robert turned his attention to the exit door of the hall of mirrors, his patience wearing thin. Surely Charlie should have found his way out by now. As the seconds passed, his agitation intensified. He rubbed a hand across the back of his neck, his go-to stress reflex.

After another anxious minute, Robert approached the man in the booth, attempting to remain calm. ‘Is it okay if I go through and fetch my son?’

The attendant pointed at a scrappy piece of cardboard in the window where the price was written in black felt-tip pen and, with an East European accent, said, ‘You must pay to enter.’

‘I’m not going in for the fun of it, mate. I just want to get my son.’

Without saying a word, the man gestured to the card again.

‘Fuck’s sake!’ said Robert, who reluctantly reached into his pocket, paid the man, and entered. Calling out Charlie’s name as he searched, his concern grew more frantic by the second, bumping into the mirrors as he rushed through.

The exit door flew open as Robert stormed out and returned to the booth. He persuaded the attendant to help him search the attraction again. They failed to locate Charlie. Flustered, Robert spotted Chloé standing a short distance away, a look of confusion about her. The tension in Robert’s behaviour and the guilt on his face must have been obvious. His eyes burned into hers. Chloé stepped forward, but a slight shake of Robert’s head brought her to an abrupt stop. The stare off continued, and though reluctant, Chloé backed slowly away and vanished into the crowd.

***

From her vantage point on the slow-moving Ferris wheel, Elaine caught sight of Robert. He looked harassed, and there was no sign of Charlie. Something was wrong. She called out and waved her arms in a desperate attempt to attract the attention of either her husband or the attendant below, who was busy staring at his phone. Robert charged around in no particular direction. It wasn’t normal to see him act this way. Elaine’s heart raced, her stomach churned, and sweat broke through the skin on her reddening face. Her body screamed panic.

Michael tugged at her cardigan and pointed towards the big top. Seconds later, Elaine saw Charlie in his blue coat, approaching a clown. Two helium-filled balloons floated above the clown’s head, one red, the other yellow. The clown offered the string attached to the yellow balloon to her son, who took the gift. A white-gloved hand then reached out for Charlie to take, which he did.

Elaine presumed the clown would take Charlie to an office or meeting point and again attempted to signal Robert, who continued to rush around accosting people. At last, the Ferris wheel stopped at the bottom, and she burst out of the capsule with the children. Elaine hurried towards the big top where she’d last seen Charlie.

***

Under immense pressure, Robert’s thoughts fluctuated between panic, guilt, and fear as he asked every stranger if they’d seen a ten-year-old boy in a blue jacket, his efforts futile. Who would remember one particular child in such a large crowd? It was his fault Charlie had wandered off, and there was no way he could tell Elaine how he’d come to lose their child. He needed to find his son, and he needed to find him fast.

Robert’s heart skipped a thousand beats as he watched Elaine run across the fairground, holding Emily and pulling Michael behind her. She must have seen Charlie from the top of the Ferris wheel. Selfishly, he hoped that was all she’d seen. He chased after them, and when he caught up, the couple bickered and talked over each other. They asked the clowns about their son, but nobody had seen anything.

***

Robert ran off in a desperate bid to find Charlie, and with Emily on her hip and firmly holding onto Michael’s hand, Elaine did her best to keep up. She glanced down the shaded sides of stalls and attractions for any sign of her eldest. Then, in the sky above the visitor’s car park, she saw a yellow balloon floating away, onwards and upwards, into the darkness. With Emily clutched in her arms, Elaine’s heart withered and her legs gave way. She slumped to her knees, hypnotised by the balloon. Call it a mother’s instinct, but somehow she just knew it was the one she’d seen her boy holding.

A complete wreck, all colour drained from her face, Elaine stared up at Robert. Confused and frightened, Michael held onto Emily’s hand as his wilting mother had let her go. The world stilled and fell silent around Elaine – seconds that lasted an eternity. She vomited in front of her children and the gathering crowd. Horrendous emotions taking control. With a hand covering her mouth, she looked up and pointed in the direction of the car park. Robert set off in haste, and two men standing close by were quick to follow. Little did they all know – Elaine’s finger traced the yellow balloon as it drifted far up into the night sky. Her mother’s instinct tacit that it was too late. Her boy was gone.

3

Monday 31 July

Present Day

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The American-style porch ran the entire length of the house, with the front door centred and large windows on either side. Elaine relaxed on the swing bench in front of the left window, staring across the vast amount of recently cut grass, both hands clasped around a mug of coffee. Wearing thick white slippers and an old blue dressing gown she’d purchased for the day she went into the hospital to give birth to Charlie, she gently rocked back and forth. The slanted porch roof beneath the upstairs windows provided a diagonal line of shade, masking her face from the beam of the early morning sun. Ahead of the bench were three steps leading down to the gravel drive.

Suspended by chains from the ceiling, the bench squeaked every time her feet pushed backwards. Elaine found the gentle swaying motion soothing. It seemed a lifetime ago she sat on this bench as a little girl – on those delightful late summer evenings beside her mother, who’d always said it reminded her of those old Hollywood movies. This type of porch was unusual in the UK, which made Margaret all the more determined to convince her husband this was the house for them. Not that he needed much persuasion. He liked the place and loved the idea of seclusion even more.

The paintwork, once all white and majestic, now looked dismal, weathered, and decayed. The rendered wall surrounding the house had faded to a drab, dirty grey. When Elaine returned to Sablefall Farm, she was sad to see the house in such a sorry state. She’d already put the porch at the top of her to-do list, along with many other critical refurbishments.

She’d moved back to her home town of Helmsley in North Yorkshire three days ago, a move her mother would argue should have happened sooner. With many factors to consider, it wasn’t an easy call. Elaine had thought about moving away from London before she and Robert divorced two years ago. Granted, it took her a while to decide, but relief embraced her when she finally made up her mind.

Her mum and dad had moved there from North London when she was four years old. She knew it had something to do with her father, though she never learned the reason. Memories were hazy before her father died of a heart attack, and she didn’t remember much for a short time after, either. Elaine sipped her coffee, appreciating how isolated and peaceful it was here. Yes, this was just what she needed.

The front right of the house was shaded by an enormous lonely oak tree, its huge trunk enveloped with ivy. Two long ropes hung from one of its thick branches. Attached to one of the ropes, a plank of wood fashioned into a makeshift swing seat flopped ungainly and dejected, resting on the patchy, dirt-covered ground below. The other rope dangled free and forlorn, swaying in the gentle breeze. Elaine had spent many hours on the swing, either having fun or out of pure boredom. Now it would be Emily’s turn to enjoy the experience.

The old two-storey farmhouse with five large bedrooms, surrounded by roughly two and a half acres of land, sat a few miles from town. There used to be more land, but over time, her father sold it for a tidy profit. The only other buildings remaining on the property were a long dry-stone shed to the left and an old, dilapidated barn about three hundred feet to the rear of the house.

At this stage, she had no idea if she would settle here on a permanent basis, but she would use her time here to restore the old place. Elaine and Robert had spent years refurbishing properties and had built up an excellent portfolio. Getting her hands dirty had never bothered her, and immersing herself in a project of this scale was something she would relish.

The last few years hadn’t been kind to her, and Elaine sought to find some comfort in the solitude. An attractive woman with a face that belied her age, the strain and suffering of the last five years were