Tales From Beyond by R. Chetwynd-Hayes

Author:R. Chetwynd-Hayes [Chetwynd-Hayes, R.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Horror, Short Stories
ISBN: 9780718301699
Google: zlmdPAAACAAJ
Amazon: 0718301692
Publisher: William Kimber, Limited
Published: 1982-01-01T08:00:00+00:00

*

Descending the stairs in total darkness was a precarious business for an old man with crippled feet and trembling limbs. Roland edged his way along the bannisters, lowering one foot with elaborate care, before moving the other, his ears strained to detect the faintest sound. He reached the hall safely and derived certain comfort from seeing two oblongs of faintly glimmering light that had to be the frosted glass panels of the front door.

He limped along the hall, arrived at the front door and groped for the small knob of the yale lock. The fingers of his right hand closed round its metallic smoothness, but it refused to turn. He began to mutter obscenities, that up to that moment, he was not aware he knew. Then one finger found a small keyhole situated in the centre of the knob and he knew it was one of those contraptions that can be double locked from the inside with a key. Doubtless the key was upstairs on Gerald’s key ring. He must try the back door and if that should prove to be locked and keyless, try his luck with a casement window.

Roland made his way back along the hall, had passed the stairs, when he knocked a console table over. He stifled a cry as the loud thud went shuddering up through the house and waited for the sound of opening doors to announce his escape attempt had been discovered. But the silence was broken only by the distant, muted roar of a passing car, that created in some inexplicable fashion an illusion of normality.

The kitchen door squealed a protest as he pushed it slowly open, then mindful that in the darkness he might upset a saucepan stand or some other racket producing object, he fumbled for and found the wall switch. A neon strip flickered into eye-searing light, revealing stainless steel floor and wall units, that together with the white-tiled walls, reminded Roland of a scrupulously clean operating theatre.

The back door was equipped with two bolts and one keyhole — but no key. It had to be assumed that the burglar-conscious Gerald took every key upstairs, a precaution that Roland in more normal circumstances would have applauded.

He had turned his attention to the kitchen window, when someone spoke from the doorway.

‘Grandfather, what on earth are you doing?’

Roland spun round and faced his grandson, who, attired in a monstrous flower pattern dressing-grown, ambled into the kitchen, then closed the door quietly behind him. His normally placid face wore an expression of deep concern.

‘Surely you were not thinking of going out at this time of night?’

The old man sat down on a chair that had a chromium plated frame and a red plastic seat. He felt very tired.

‘I was trying to escape, having realised that the situation is beyond my control. And there is another factor — one I am unwilling to face.’

‘What is that, Grandfather?’ Gerald asked. ‘The possibility that you may be a little mad?’

Roland shook his head. ‘No, becoming for the first time in my life, extremely sane.

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