A Badtime Story

The water tasted like the tears of a corpse if a corpse could cry. If that corpse had not, as everyone knew usually happened, gone beyond feeling sad into accepting its dusty fate.

“More,” said Jacob.

“You can’t have any more,” said Balthazar the babysitter. “You’ll burst, again.”

“More,” said Jacob.

Nurse Mariam had left express instructions but Balthazar had only recently been assembled and liked to think he knew best.

“One more jar,” he said. “And then bed.”

The babysitter poured more water into the charcoal font in the corner of the twins’ bedroom and then heaved the eldest Jacob into position so that he could lap it up.

“Now,” Balthazar placed Jacob on the ground and unfolded a thick piece of parchment. “Hands cleaned. Face plucked. Teeth blunted. Story. I have to read you both a story.” He looked at the heavy, red leather book upon the bedtime pulpit and swallowed. “Are you sure you want a story?” he asked. “You both look—”

Balthazar stopped talking and looked around.

“Where’s Jacob?” he said.

“Here,” said Jacob.

“I meant the other one,” said Balthazar.

“Here,” said Jacob.

“You’ve just moved a step to the left,” said the babysitter. “You’re the same one.”

Jacob squeezed his eyes shut until they leaked and chortled like a sack of water being thrown onto the floor.

Balthazar took Jacob by the hand and began to scour the room. He looked on the bed and under it. He looked around the pulpit and in the toy chest. He put his ear to the West wall and sniffed at the portrait of the failed sibling. But there was no sign of the other Jacob anywhere. He turned to the twin he was holding captive. There was only the wardrobe left to check but even Balthazar did not want to try that unless everywhere else had been searched.

“Where is he?”

Jacob skipped on the spot and put a hand over his mouth to muffle any words which might give away his secret. But he could not do that and keep his eyes closed and so Balthazar saw the twin look at the bedroom door.

“Aha!” said the babysitter, striding towards it. He gave the wardrobe a glance and reached out to open the bedroom door.

The carved wooden knob turned easily in its reinforced iron fitting. Balthazar pulled and a ghastly blue light flooded into the room.

“You were instructed to keep the door locked at all times,” said Nurse Mariam. The elderly nurse stood in the corridor. Beside her, the other Jacob dangled from Cloister’s fist.

“Arr arr,” said Cloister.

Balthazar and Jacob fell to the floor in terror and remained there until morning.

But nobody burst. Which was a very good thing indeed.

Goodnight.

—

Illustration © 2017 Carl Pugh

If you enjoyed this and would like to support my work then please…