Within the Wardrobe

Art by John Kenn Mortensen

Mattie was a little girl. She lived in a big house with her grandfather, her nanny and a cat called Susan. One could look out of window in that house and enjoy the nothingness, stretching on as far as the eye can see. When Mattie chose to look out of the windows, she preferred the ones with stained glass. They were more interesting.

In the evenings, Mattie and Susan would sit on the stairwell and look upon her grandfather and his guests. The men wore tail coats and had curly mustaches, and the women wore large skirts and hats, adorned with feathers and flowers. These extravagant guests appeared every night but they never seemed to notice Mattie. She was permitted to watch and wonder, but questions were not allowed. She would go to bed while they were still there and awaken to an empty house in the morning. She longed to join them.

It was a Wednesday night. Mattie sat at the top of the stairs and observed the party. A violin howled, lonely in the corner of the ballroom as the guests milled around sipping drinks. Mattie heard her nanny's footsteps as she climbed the stairs towards her.

"Matilda, it's time for bed!" she called. Mattie moved her gaze unwillingly from the crowd below her to her caretaker's large, red-faced figure. Her blonde hair was pulled back into a tight bun. Mattie did not want to go to bed but rose silently, without protest. A large, warm hand clasped around her thin arm and pulled her away from the enthralling scene, so close, yet out of her reach.

Mattie waited until she had been tucked in to ask a question.

"Nanny, will you read to me, like grandfather used to?" she said quietly. Her eyes were hopeful as she looked up at her nanny.

"No, Dear, they need me in the kitchen. You know I don't have time when your grandfather has guests."

Mattie turned onto her side, ready for sleep. Her eyes settled on a spot on the floor as her nanny fiddled with the oil lamp. There was a single hair lying on the floorboards between the old armchair and the wardrobe. It was long, thick and undeniably black. The light disappeared suddenly as her nanny extinguished the flame in her lamp. She walked out of the room and shut the door behind her. Only a crack of light remained under the door.

Mattie was almost asleep when she heard a low moan. She opened her eyes, but closed them again, it was probably just Susan. She soon heard another noise, a voice the texture of fine gravel.

"Join us," it groaned. It was quiet at first, and Mattie still didn't believe it, but it grew louder as it was repeated, again and again. "Join us, join us, join us," Mattie sat up in bed, staring at the wardrobe. It was the only logical place where someone could be hiding, waiting to scare her. But who would want to scare her? She had no young friends. All of a sudden, the voices stopped.

Mattie had never been scared of the dark, or the mysteries that darkness held, but she was scared now. She reached for the matches kept on the table to the side of her bed and lit the oil lamp. She was shaking with fear as she swung her legs out of bed, but she wouldn't hide. This was the most exciting thing that had happened to her in a long time. Mattie walked across her room and climbed into the armchair. It smelled of her grandfather and reminded her of a time when adventure could be found between the pages of a book.

Mattie sat on her armchair, waiting anxiously for the noises to return, but it was long past her bed time and the old chair was comfortable and cozy, so she began to fall asleep. She was awoken once more by a slow creaking and sat up quickly, staring towards the door. It was shut. She then turned her head gradually towards the wardrobe. One of the doors was ajar. Mattie's breathing became rapid but she did not move from the chair. In the dim light of the lamp she was unable to see into the depths of her wardrobe. A scuttling sound caught her attention, and she moved as far backwards as she could, sinking into the armchair like a turtle into its shell.

At first, all she could see was a furry point, like the leg of a mammalian crab, extending from the darkness into the light. The wardrobe door creaked further forwards and Mattie stared in astonishment as another foot-less leg moved into the light. Then came that scraping voice again.

"Join us, join us, JOIN US!" it screeched, increasing its intensity with every ragged word. The doors of the wardrobe burst open and a creature much bigger than Mattie appeared. Its legs pierced into the wooden floor and Mattie tried not to scream. Its head was elongated in a sharp snout and covered in hair. Long, dark and as thick as spaghetti. Her eyes opened wide as it stood there on its many pointed legs, unmoving. The creature did not appear to have eyes, a nose or a mouth. It was simply a pointed, hairy body on pointed, furry legs. But what intrigued Mattie the most was not its lack of features, but rather its lack of an ending. She could only assume that its body ended where the wardrobe did, but it was impossible to know for certain.

Mattie sat and stared at it for minutes. It did nothing. There was no noise, and she was too scared to break the silence. Slowly, she reached towards it with her small arm. Little by little, her fingers moved closer to the drooping, mahogany strands of hair until she could gently stroke the creature. It was warm and surprisingly soft for a monster. The creature began to move, and Mattie saw that an opening had appeared on its snout. This cavity grew and opened, revealing endless rows of long, sharp teeth.

Mattie shrunk back into her chair. In the chasm of its mouth, the face of a child formed. Then another, and another. This creature was full of children! But they were alive and their eyes were bright — too bright. Their eyes were shining like candles but without colour — like the sun through a cloud.

The children opened their mouths.

"Join us," they said in unison. The child who was nearest to Mattie smiled upon her sweetly and gestured its slender arm towards her. Mattie reached out and took the child's hand.