Marta's Darlings

This was the Specters’ first time outside the United States, and more precisely, in Scotland.

It was a lifelong dream for the Husband, who had spent most of his life with his nose buried deep in the compelling stories of many a British writer. The Wife was most excited at the prospect of making all her friends jealous, and therefore set about snapping photos of everything she deemed “so British” from the moment they landed, including the cab that picked them up from the airport. They were there for only three weeks, and she had already prepared a whole list of must-see places to visit and must-do activities to partake in to fill up her social media pages. Their first stop, however, was a quaint little B&B run by a seventy-year-old lady named Marta, where they would settle for the first week in order to experience the beauty of the Highlands and their surrounding lakes.

A light drizzle greeted them as they exited the taxi that evening, tiny droplets that felt like wet cobwebs clinging to their hair and faces. Marta was waiting for them by the door of a charming cottage, lit up on either side by rusty lampposts.

“You must be starving,” she said with a lilting accent as she ushered the young couple inside the dining room. A few minutes later, she had them settled at a round table and served them both her special soup in fine china bowls. She regaled them with tales of haunted castles and ghost stories, just as they were hoping, then gave them a tour of the house.

“You have a lovely family,” the Wife said in an attempt at a compliment, as she pointed to a wall-mounted portrait of a middle-aged couple and a rather pudgy teenage boy.

“Why, thank you. That’s my Gary and Billy.” A shadow passed over her face, but she quickly perked up and changed the subject. “And what are you most looking forward to seeing?”

“The lakes,” replied the Wife, “my husband told me all about the legends. Have you ever spotted anything spooky?”

Marta’s eyes sparkled. “Oh, I most certainly have. There is one by the house, which I would be delighted to show you tomorrow. The villagers say a creature lives in its waters and shows itself only to a few lucky people every year.”

The Husband and Wife exchanged a smile. “That would be wonderful.”

***

The Husband was woken by a rattling noise in the early hours of the morning, before the sun even poked through the dark sky. In a sweat despite the cold, damp air, he got up slowly and shuffled over to the door, grasping the handle without daring to twist it. The noise subsided immediately and only the sound of the clock against the wall matched the thumping in his ears. I’m being silly, he thought with a self-deprecating scoff. All these ghost stories have definitely gotten to me. However, just as he was about to slip back under the covers, the noise started again, louder this time. The Husband sprung to his feet yet again, eyebrows knitted in determination. As he pulled the door open, a hairy creature jumped at him, knocking him over on to the floor. Sharp claws pushed into his ribs as the beast let out a groan. The acrid scent of putrefaction filled the Husband’s nostrils.

“Ahhhh! Get off of me!”

“Wilburt! Wilburt, that’s quite enough.” Plump arms grabbed the beast by the collar, yanking it off the Husband’s chest. “I am so very sorry,” Marta lamented as she flicked the light on in the corridor.

Saliva was dripping from a purple, blistery tongue and beady eyes set deep beneath brown curly fur stared back at the Husband.

“Jesus... what is this?”

The Wife emerged behind him, hands clasped around the belt of her white dressing gown.

“What on Earth is happening?”

“This is Wilburt. He’s a dear, my loves, there’s nothing to be frightened of.”

The couple had never seen such a big, fat poodle, almost the size of a hog, not to mention its oversized fangs and fetid smell. “Uhm, hello Wilburt,” said the Husband with a gulp as he scrambled back up and gave the dog a timid pat on the head.

“Apologies for the chaotic morning. I was just about to take him for a walk, and he got excited when he realized we had new guests.”

The Husband found it strange that they had not seen him the night before, but quickly dismissed the thought as Marta asked what they would like for breakfast.

“Whatever you Scots have in the morning,” replied the Wife with a tight smile.

“Very well,” said Marta.

***

“How very... quiet,” sighed the Wife as her gaze wandered across the peaceful waters of the lake. “I was hoping to spot the monster.”

“Only a few lucky people get to see it,” Marta reminded her. Wilburt started barking excitedly, pulling on the leash as he tried to get closer to the shore.

“They are only legends, honey,” the Husband said, his face and neck flushing.

The couple spent the next few days exploring the region, coming back home exhausted in the evening, just in time for dinner, as Marta always served them delicious meals with a side of her special soup.

“Do you think I’m getting a bit fat?” the Wife asked one night, observing herself in the full-length mirror next to the bed.

The Husband gave her a once-over. He did not like to lie, and indeed, he could see that her naturally slender body looked fuller and rounder than usual. Even her small breasts seemed to have grown two or three cups bigger, for which he thought she should be grateful, since she was always complaining about her flat chest. Thankfully, she did not wait for his answer.

“This woman is feeding us junk. I’ll tell her to start making salads.”

Before the Husband could resume watching the clock ticking—he found it soothing—she yelped, “Oh my God! Look at that.” She leaned over, one of her hands pinning most of her dark hair back while the other pointed at a white streak near her ear. “I knew I had my father's shitty genes!” she shrieked before she began to sob.

The Husband looked at her in disdain, wondering if she truly had to be so loud. Moreover, she was getting a bit smelly as she hadn’t had a shower yet. He left her to moan by herself, making his way down to the living room to sit by the fireplace. He bristled upon seeing Wilburt sleeping on the carpet, and carefully made his way to a comfortable armchair for a peaceful, post-dinner nap.

***

That night, the Husband was woken again. This time however, the noise seemed to be coming from somewhere else in the house. Consumed with curiosity, he got up, armed himself with his cell phone to use as a torch, and opened the door to the basement, where groaning and clanking could be heard. The strange sounds quieted down as he descended the stony steps. A rotten smell permeated the walls, making him gag.

“Wilburt?” he whispered, sweeping his torch across the space as he could not find the light switch. Perhaps Marta was keeping him here at night. Whimpering and grunting answered him, coming from deeper in the basement. All he could see from the staircase were cardboard boxes and old furniture stacked in a corner, so he swallowed hard and kept on walking, pulling up his T-shirt to cover his nose as the smell grew more and more unbearable.

“God almighty...” he said in an exhale upon discovering a row of large metallic cages propped against the back wall. A dozen pairs of eyes flashed bright as he pointed the phone’s light at them. Then the ruckus broke forth again, as if the creatures were begging for his help. He inched closer, realizing they were common animals, except that they were all twice as big as they should be, and infinitely more grotesque. There was a giant hen, a pig, some chicks, but also a monkey, a couple of pigeons and a sloth. All had either sharp teeth, blood-red eyes or both.

“What in the—”

“Well, it seems we have a visitor tonight.”

He spun on his heels. Marta was standing by the staircase, dressed in a frilly nightgown, her hair up in neat rows of curlers.

“What are these? Why are they trapped in cages? And why are they so ugly?” the Husband asked in one breath.

The corners of Marta's lips twisted up as she approached. “Those are my darlings, love. Nothing to be frightened of. I can explain, but first, let me show you my other darlings.” She flipped a switch against the wall, and a large aquarium lit up. About ten different types of fish were swimming lazily inside the tank. Fascinated, the Husband found himself drawn toward them and couldn’t help but follow their movements with his eyes.

Marta dove a hand inside the tank and caught a sardine. He couldn’t peel his gaze away from the grey fish, its shiny scales and bulging eyeballs. “Ah, yes. Exactly what I thought. That’s just wonderful,” she enthused. “Would you like this fish, my dear?”

The Husband found himself nodding and licking his lips. Marta threw the sardine in the air and he leaped up to catch it in his mouth, chewing loudly on its slimy body before swallowing it in one gulp.

***

“Marta? Have you seen my husband?” the Wife asked as she entered the dining room that morning.

“Yes, my love. He went out fishing quite early this morning.”

“He wouldn’t have gone without telling me...”

Catching sight of herself in the mirror above the table, she let out a piercing screech.

“What is the matter, dear?”

“My hair... my hair!” she wailed as she raked her hands through her thick mane. Half of it was now completely white, while the other half remained black as tar.

“Oh, it suits you, it really does,” Marta comforted her.

“What the hell is happening? Is this how menopause starts?”

“Stress can do that, you know. It's a very common thing. You told me you're a lawyer, aren't you? Now, what about salad, for breakfast?”

“How did you... I was actually going to ask you if we could switch to a greener diet.”

“I’m good at guessing these things, I am!” Marta replied, tapping her temple with her index finger.

After serving her some lettuce and carrots, with a side of the usual soup, Marta suggested they go for a walk along the lake. “I’m sure your husband is still there. My Gary used to love fishing, too. He could spend hours just sitting there, waiting, and whenever I would shout at him for disappearing without letting me know, he would say he forgot to leave a note! Terrible memory, he had.”

They left the house together with Wilburt, happily trotting alongside them. Upon reaching the lake, the Wife squinted her eyes, trying to spot her husband in the distance. “Where is the asshole? Did you know he told me I stank, yesterday?”

“Husbands can be heartless creatures, sometimes. He might be on the south side,” Marta explained. “I told him the fish were more abundant on the south side. We can get the canoe out and paddle it across the lake. It is a pleasant day, after all.”

And so, they did. As they glided along the lake’s peaceful surface, the Wife felt a thrill of excitement at the thought that the monster might be lurking beneath them. As if reading her mind, Marta said with a glint in her eyes, “You know, I’ve heard that you can beckon it to the surface if you lightly tap the water with your hand for a while.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t dare.”

“Come on, try it!”

The Wife bent over, shyly dipping her fingers into the cold water. Just as she was about to straighten up, she felt a strong kick up her backside, pushing her over. The canoe shook from side to side as she fell into the lake with a great splash, but Marta managed to steady it.

“Are you insane?!” the Wife shouted as she emerged from the water. “What the hell is wrong with you? Let me back in immediately, you psycho!”

Just as the words left her mouth, a deep rumbling sounded from below, creating large ripples across the surface of the lake.

“What the... what was that? Marta! Marta, please... please, let me back in,” she pleaded, trying to swim toward the canoe.

Marta was already paddling away, her face splitting into a satisfied grin. A gigantic orange fin cut through the water, zooming in their direction. “Hello, Gary,” Marta said, then chuckled. “I know how much you like fat cows—isn’t that what you always used to call me? Well, here’s another one for you. She’s not completely ready yet, but there was no time left because of her nosy husband.”

The monstrous goldfish raised its bulbous head above the water, opening its mouth wide. The Wife let out a cry of despair as she was sucked into the gaping hole, but it sounded more like a long “moo” than a human scream. Her body thrashed against the creature’s shark-like teeth, blood mixing with water as skin gave way to bone. Marta quietly paddled back to the shore, then climbed down the canoe as Wilburt rushed toward her, barking loudly.

“I know you’re hungry, but just give me a minute lad,” she said as she crouched down to fill her bottle with murky lake water. “I need to prepare more of my special soup before the next guests arrive.”

Wilburt kept on barking angrily, his head snapping toward the porch. Marta smiled as she spotted a long, black figure descending the wooden steps. She walked over to the house and bent down to scratch the big cat behind the ears. Wilburt growled in protest, and the feline hissed at him, revealing yellow, pointy fangs and a rotten tongue.

“That’s quite enough, Billy! You’ve always wanted a little brother, haven’t you? Sharing is caring. What shall we call you, my dear?”

The cat uttered a gravelly yowl in response.

“I quite like Specter, indeed. Suits you well, it really does. Now, come along, my darlings. It’s almost lunchtime.”

THE END