The Parents

A blaze erupted from the match and it slowly brought out its light into the world. William bent over to light all four lanterns on the table. He looked out and admired his work with a smirk. Four chairs which he personally built and a table from the neighbor John. In William’s town, there was not very many people and so he made sure to be as friendly as possible to anyone who came by. William quite hated the table, always had. He found the edges unrefined and the craftsmanship shoddy. One of the corners stood up from an error in measuring.

“Darling, is the bread done yet?” William yelled out to the kitchen.

“Not yet, love, but the soup is,” Martha yelled back in an anxious tone, “Did Mary’s parchment tell us when she was to arrive?” She popped her head out from the kitchen and pranced over to his side. A sweet conservative kiss, bittered by toil but sweet nonetheless.

“Listen, I know you been worried about her being in the city and all but I swear it ain’t that bad. I grew up in the city and did I turn out so bad?” he said. William flashed a bright smile, one that seemed to shine away all his wrinkles.

“No… not at all! The whole thing just worries me… as it should! She hasn’t contacted us since that new factory job and now she’s engaged to some city boy apparently who we’ve never met,” Martha said and rested her back to the wall.

“We meet the man tonight so calm down, honey. I set the table and I did all the farm work at the dawn’s first light just so that we could see the man,” William said with another smile. He himself wasn’t too convinced about the whole situation and there was very little chance anything could’ve convinced this was a good idea. The parchment still lay on the dining room table, yellow from the lantern light. It came and announced their arrival with nothing before-hand. Once the two of them saw it, they got right to work tidying and so the parchment stayed.

Once Martha retreated back to the kitchen, she started pacing back and forth. Martha knew her daughter’s soul was kind, more kind than any that the world had ever seen. The exact type that she thought the evil forces within this world may attempt to corrupt. She pulled the loaf of bread out of the oven, larger than any that she had ever made before. She set it on the middle of the table to cool. William began to serve each plate while Martha took the knife in hand. It quivered in her hand.

Both stayed absolutely silent. Work was still to be done. The soft pouring of the soup and the crisp cutting of the bread. The steam from the soup spun upwards and whistled for freedom.

Then a knock ricketed through the wooden home. Two more knocks then three.

“Do I look nice?” William turned around and whispered. He was wearing the only suit he’d ever owned and ever would own, something he said he would save for when the Queen came to visit.

“Nice as you could ever look,” Martha said, straightening her dress. Her tone held a hardness to it. Anxiety swirled around her brain. “God bless our souls.”

He opened the door and standing right there was sweet little Mary. She looked just as when she left. But beside her was a man. Broad shoulders yet not the kind obtained from a life of hard work, the kind obtained from genetic privilege. He had dark messy hair tussled into knots with scholar’s glasses obstructing his eyes. His suit stood fully lined with lapel and a classy brown linen. He extended his hand toward William and shook it weakly. Cold and pinpricked. William shuddered afterwards.

William said with that same smile, “Come in! We made soup and bread! Mary ate it all the time when she was younger.” Everything in him wanted to retreat from the man. His heart bounded. The man’s movements jittered as he walked. Somehow, his lower sections of his leg moved independently from his hips and each body part moved forward with a mind of their own. He limped and bobbed with each step.

Martha came by his side saying, “Do you need any help?”

The man stayed silent but smiled at her with his full heart.

Everyone sat at the table. The women sat across from each other and so did the men. William never took his eyes off the man, his eyes obscured by the glasses’ glare.

“So how did you two meet?” Martha asked. Her eyes never left Mary’s.

“Oh, what a nice story it is… Well, he was my supervisor and we hit it off almost immediately!” she practically beamed with excitement.

“She was very resourceful…” he said softly, “And I really care for her. I’ll say cleanly that I’ve never quite met a woman like her. I know that the letter explained it but I will repeat for the mere sake of the matter. I wish to take her hand in marriage.” His head stayed down, pointed straight at the lantern closest to him. Mary blushed heavily, illuminated by the yellow light. He joined hands with her. In the light, the parents could see the ring brightly adorned with gold and silver and a single pure diamond. Mary gave a sweet conservative kiss to the man’s cheek and he smiled in turn.

Martha looked to William, trying to gauge his reaction. His back leaned forward and under the table, he gripped the chair. She could see the way his cheeks moved from shifting saliva. He longer bore that smile. He looked down and busied himself entirely with eating.

“This all seems quite fast, doesn’t it?” she said, her body entirely pointed to Mary, neglecting the suited man.

“Mother, I-”

“And I don’t see why you haven’t contacted us about this before-hand or at least sent us anything at all when it comes to how the city even is.”

“Mother-”

“After all, I don’t see why our future son-in-law cannot even make formal eye contact with us,” William interrupted.

Mary did not respond that time, simply looking down and avoiding any contact. So did everyone. Even the man kept looking forward to the blaze. The family started to eat as they did when Mary was a kid. An easy ritual perfected over years. Sip the soup slowly, paying special attention to not slurp. Dip the bread in and sink it to the bottom of the bowl. Eat it last. William had been the one to bring it to his family and his father was the one who showed him. William himself didn’t know how many generations back it went.

The man pushed the soup away from himself. His hands crept forward to the center of the table, ripping off a large chunk of the loaf. He first brought it to his nose and then his maw gaped open. The entire chunk fell down his esophagus, wholly visible on its descent.

Martha nearly choked at the sight. Mary tugged on his shirt and whispered something in his ear making him blush a dark red. He whispered something back to Mary and she giggled.

“Son, I don’t think that is precisely the proper table manners,” William said, his tone was sharp and only bore a slight pitch of joke. “Tell him Mary how to use the soup.”

“He has never quite liked warm things, Father… Mother, I’m sure he would love your soup if he could…” Mary pleaded.

“Of course!” the man said.

“Then could you take at least a sip?” Martha said softly, “I spent all day working on it. I even borrowed from the neighbors to get some spices.” Her face sank downward yet her eyes looked up at the man, wide and unassuming but with no real emotion inside. “It was very demeaning but I insisted that my future son-in-law deserved the best.” She flashed a smile in the same vein of William’s.

He looked down into the bowl of soup and started to breathe heavier and heavier. He gripped the end of the table to stabilize himself. The whole table shifted to him. One hand gripped the spoon and took the slightest portion of potatoes and broth. In one movement, he shifted his head backward and shoved the spoon head in. He put the spoon back onto the plate in a show of triumph.

“A-amazing…” the man’s voice buzzed. Emotionless.

Mary smiled and wiped the broth dripping down his chin. “Wow! He liked it so much! Did you see that Mother?”

William’s eyes slanted deep. He put his spoon down and let it sink to the bottom with the bread. Martha tilted her head and her face melded into one of contempt.

“Don’t you see that he tried?”

“Honey, only trying is not enough,” Martha repeated. She said the same thing to Mary when she was younger. Often Mary would climb a tree and get only to the first branch. Her smile shone through the leaves. But Martha would still say the mantra.

“You damned-” Mary’s voice rose unintentionally. Her teeth grit.

“Young lady!”

Mary slammed her hands into the table like a child in frustration. The table’s leg snapped with a loud crack and it tipped toward her violently. The lantern closest to the man fell down and shattered, the fire igniting the parchment, the words “Dear mother and father” up in flames. He recoiled backward as though Death had come for him. The skin all over his body melded and shifted like centipedes inhabited his muscles beneath.

Mary sat up and rushed to his side. “Victor!”

This grand shift melded his nose and ears enough that the glasses fell and clattered on the floor. William got up and looked into his eyes. Behind those glasses, the man’s eyes had no irises and contained simply black voids. True nothing. The moon without stars, the fairytale without a happy ending.

The fire spread and rose. The lightest parts curled up at the end to spin endlessly. The embers had a ballroom-dance for all to marvel. Yet William and Martha both paid no mind to it. Their daughter needed to be safe. He picked up another lantern.

“Mary… what’s wrong with the man?” Martha backed away.

“Darling, please help me!” the man screamed out. His skin crawled all the while, pulsing.

“No… no! I don’t want no devil with my daughter,” William’s voice trembled.

“Everything is burning down!” Mary pleaded out.

“I don’t want no devil with my daughter! Back away! The Ludd family will be fine without you!” William shoved the lantern forward more, an active threat. With every step that he took forward, the man screeched and cried out. “Leave!”

“Don’t come any closer! I am not well. Not well. Not well. I simply need rest and time with my love,” the man said. Cracked voice like powder.

“A demon can copulate with any whore, leave our Mary out of it!” Martha spat. She grabbed a lantern as well. The fire crackled harshly.

They both moved forward, backing the pair into the corner. The man’s skin kept shaking. Something trying to get out. His mouth hole kept getting larger and larger. The skin at the ends split and fractured. His hands came up to cover it. The pupils in his eyes kept getting bigger and bigger. He looked to Mary and blinked several times. He didn’t want to leave her. A deep tone shuddered through the air, “We love-”

Martha threw the lantern straight and beamed it into the man’s face. Glass shattered and cut everywhere but he did not bleed. The embers got all over his hair and suit. Soon, the man was fully ablaze. Mary backed away but not from fear.

Everything in him shook and stirred, every muscle spasmed, each bone lost its shape. Limp, his arms fell to his side. The man was no more. A simple slumped body ablaze with mouth agape. Then came the flood. Spiders and roaches. Beetles and grub. All poured out of his maw and into the fire. William came sprinting to Mary’s side but the sheer number of vermin clawed him down. His legs were commandeered first. No longer in control. They bent him forward until his face reached the floor. Ripped eyes, ears, and nose. Martha screamed out. They crawled up and down her body, looking for some way to get in. She looked around and dumped the hot soup onto herself. The soup scalded and charred her skin. The heat soon worked down to her bone. To the nerves inside. She screamed the worst scream anyone had ever or would ever scream. It only made them more voracious. After it all, they surrounded Mary but did not move. Behind them, the man’s body lay limp and burning. Deflated. She cried. The houses burned all around her but the vermin shielded her. She mouthed out three words that she couldn’t say now. Emotion buried her soul. Her hand clutched the ring with all her might. The remnants of Victor stayed in the house and burned. They would not scream. She slowly walked out of the house before it collapsed.

Mary cried alone in the rubble the next morning, forsaken. Nonetheless, she went to work the day after that silently.