A Country Tale
Short fiction set in very early 20th century England
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Few could fathom what goes through the mind of quiet little Trevor when he sweeps the stables of Mulgrave Farm, an isolated land a full day’s carriage ride from London. The boy is ten—twelve years old at the most, orphaned some years ago when his stoic but weakly father passed away from a sudden bout of pneumonia during a particularly cold and damp winter. Trevor’s father had been employed as a farmhand for much of his life by Alvin Mulgrave, a country gentleman of 55, owner of the farm and proud father of four. Hence, when Trevor’s father died, Alvin took pity upon the son and allowed him home-schooling alongside his own teenage children, in addition to the full provision of food and board in the small cottage nearby that Trevor’s late father built. In exchange, Trevor would follow his father’s footsteps and continue to be a farmhand doing light chores until he is grown enough to explore life on his own.
The Mulgraves, though not rich by any means, had a stable life, as the farm yielded enough to never be short on food nor other basic commodities. Alvin, the domineering patriarch with a large belly and pompous smile, was not particularly well-educated but still had a knack for efficiency and deal-making that often made others regret underestimating him based upon his looks and the way he spoke. However, what made the Mulgraves peculiar was that they never had a shortage of stories to tell, as they talked and talked and talked, whether it’s with associates or strangers, seemingly endlessly about this and that then more of this and that all day long. Alvin was, of course, by far the most talkative of the bunch. He relished in being the head of family, as his most proud specialty was organizing large and elaborate family gatherings—cousins, nieces, and nephews from London, Birmingham, and as far as Edenborough would be invited to have feasts on the farm at the turn of each season.
Hence, it was only natural that Alvin would have wanted little orphaned Trevor to be more talkative like a Mulgrave, but Trevor, much like his own late father, hardly spoke any words other than “yes, sir” or “no, sir” and “I think so, sir,” and never took part in Alvin’s family functions, in spite of numerous invitations.
Come early October, Alvin was looking forward to his upcoming family gathering, itching to show off his newly acquired smoking pipe and exquisite malt whiskey from the Highlands. Nevertheless, due to particularly nasty weather and resulting road conditions, most of the Mulgrave clan were canceling their trip to Alvin’s farm. Only Alvin’s younger brother, Gavin, and his pregnant wife were able to come on this occasion. This put Alvin in a very sour mood. Upon receiving the latest telegraph from his sister on the day of the gathering that she would not be joining the family gathering, Alvin went up to his attic, locked the door, and seemingly smoked all day, refusing to help his wife prepare the evening’s meal.
Later on, Alvin would not even come downstairs to greet Gavin and his pregnant wife who traveled through extremely rough terrain to get to the Mulgrave Farm. Incensed by Alvin’s grumpy attitude, his wife Gertrude ran upstairs and pounded on the attic door to have Alvin come to his senses. But with no answer to her repeated knocks, Gertrude grew a little nervous and asked the visiting Gavin, who is a printing press engineer in London, to open the lock. When Gavin finally opened the door, there was no Alvin to be found.
At this point, Gertrude couldn’t figure if she should be worried or angry, as it seemed Alvin had gone outside the house of his own volition without letting her know. Noting the concern in Gertrude, Gavin, a calm and reserved gentleman unlike his elder brother, tasked the four children to go outside and look for Alvin. The farm was not large, consisting of just the Mulgrave residence, Trevor’s cottage three hundred steps away, and the barn full of hay in between. All around the farm’s edge was a thick forest, but Alvin was never the type to seek comfort in nature, let alone go for a casual stroll in the woods, so there was no point in looking in the woods for him. The family members each went in different directions to search for Alvin, each yelling his name every few steps. As the sun nervously set over the tree lines on the horizon, the evening’s cold air formed vapor clouds around their lips calling out for Alvin. Once the sun was gone, everything became dark, wet, foggy, and cold.
Then, Gertrude suddenly realized the real possibility that Alvin may be with the orphan Trevor at his cottage, perhaps attempting, once again after numerous tries in past, to have Trevor join this evening’s family feast. Or perhaps Alvin was just spending time with Trevor, in disappointment that no family member other than Gavin bothered to show up. Just as Gertrude was about to ask one of the children to go fetch Trevor, the little boy himself shows up just outside the Mulgrave residence, walking slowly into the dimly lit lights, his scrawny face grinning at Gertrude. This was quite unnerving to the children and Gertrude, as it was the first they’ve ever seen the morbid Trevor grin at anything. When asked if he had seen Alvin, Trevor answers, “Yes, ma’am. We had tea, and he even let me smoke his pipe. We then talked about a lot of things like… the farm, my cottage, even you and the children. He also invited me to your family feast again.” Gertrude and her children were aghast, as the words he spoke were the most they’ve heard from him… ever.
Gertrude lowers herself and looks Trevor in the eye to ask further questions. She asked, “Are you okay, Trevor? Where’s Alvin?” Trevor continues, “Would you like to know what else we talked about? M’dad. Mr. Mulgrave told me how much he respected my dad. So I asked him, ‘Why’d you kill my dad, then?’ Mr. Mulgrave kept saying he heard me wrong and asked me to repeat what I said so I asked him again and again and again. I told him I saw him chop up my dad into little pieces, chew on his flesh, and drink his blood. I was hiding when it happened, you see. I saw it all.”
Gertrude bends backwards in shock. Then, hunches over and shakes Trevor’s shoulders with her arms and screams, “Trevor! What is wrong with you?” It was less anger towards Trevor’s ridiculous accusations that was enveloping Gertrude but a tingling sharp fear in her mind that something terrible may have happened to Alvin. Gertrude regains her composure and quietly tells her own sons and daughters, “Children, go inside and don’t come out until I say so.” Alvin’s brother Gavin also is in shock that the innocent-looking young farmhand would say such things. Gertrude shakes Trevor’s shoulder a few more times in shock, then continues, “You and I sat next to your father when he died in bed. Mr. Mulgrave cried right next to you when your father died. Don’t you remember? You were there! No one killed your father. Stop inventing things. Now, where is Mr. Mulgrave?”
“Oh, you are wrong, ma’am. I remember hiding under the bed watching Mr. Mulgrave eat my father. I always knew it, ya know? So, I was afraid that, that if I ever joined your family feast, you would all eat me like you did my father. I know you eat people and drink their blood. I saw it with my own eyes! I was so… afraid.” Trevor starts crying, wiping his tears with his grimy left hand. Gavin, who couldn’t believe the scene taking place before him pushes the stunned Gertrude away and asks, “Trevor, so… uhm… where is Mr. Mulgrave?” Trevor wipes his tears and just shakes his head. Gavin continues, “Come on, Trevor. What did you and Mr. Mulgrave talk about next?” Trevor backs off from Gavin and explains in a terrified wailing voice, “I was so afraid for two years now. So afraid of your family dinners that you’ll… you’ll… eat me. So, I decided not to be afraid anymore. And, and, so I had dinner with Mr. Mulgrave today!” Gertrude, standing behind Gavin asks, “What do you mean? What dinner? What did you have for dinner?”
Gertrude paces around for a few seconds, trying to figure something out. Her eyes bulge for a moment, then she falls to her knees grabbing Trevor. She grabs his head with both hands and presses his forehead against her own. She gets her thumbs to squeeze Trevor’s lips open, then she screams, “You didn’t!” Up close, she sees Trevor’s gums all torn up and bleeding profusely in his mouth. She then lifts Trevor’s ill-fitting and dirty shirt and presses her hands upon Trevor’s belly which is bulging abnormally and about to explode. Upon checking Trevor’s fingernails, she sees the grime of dried blood in its crevices.
Trevor grins again and speaks, “I know what you’re thinking, huh huh ha ha, but Mr. Mulgrave’s okay.” Gavin interjects, “Where is he?” Trevor answers, “I know where he is. Since you’re being so serious, I’ll show you where he is.” Trevor pushes Gertrude away and walks toward his own cottage. Gertrude and Gavin both follow nervously. Arriving at the cottage’s entrance, Trevor yells, “Mr. Mulgrave! Mrs. Mulgrave and your brother are here. I knew you wanted to be alone, but they were so serious. They almost scared me.”
With no one answering the door, Trevor merely stands still smiling. Gavin, in a rush of anxiety, breaks the door open with his shoulders, and Gertrude follows him inside. Inside, Alvin was sitting in a chair with his new pipe in his mouth, fully clothed in his favorite sweater, jacket, top hat, and checkered slacks that he wanted to show off to visiting family that day. Only… his clothes were stuffed with hay from the barn… like a scarecrow, with only his blood-drained and severed head attached on top, and a large bib hanging from his neck. Gertrude faints immediately while Gavin screams… seemingly forever. Trevor watches this and starts laughing uncontrollably like an infant who just found his favorite toy—so much that his stomach convulses. Truth is… his full stomach could not handle the large amount of food he consumed earlier in the day. He vomits all over his cottage entrance, dark chunks of flesh outpouring.
Such a cold wet foggy day.
