The Steam Trunk

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My father was a recluse. I never got to meet him. My mother told me when she gave birth to me, he wasn't present. When I asked her why throughout my childhood, she said that work always got in the way. I thought this response was strange, because so many kids told me that their parents were always so busy, but they made time as a family. 

I knew my mother was lying to me as I grew older, especially when I spotted my mother talking to someone on the phone. She would wait until she thought I was asleep, and I would find her on the phone, a big smile on her face. Tears would sometimes be in her eyes, and I had a feeling she was talking to my father. 

I decided that I would never question her, since she was a great mother. That was the only thing she ever hid from me my whole life, so I will respect that. I went to college eventually, and during one particular summer, I stumbled upon my mother dragging a steam trunk into our home. 

She was struggling with the weight inside, and when I offered to help, she shook her head back and forth. 

"Why? That thing looks like it weighs a fucking ton, mom!"

"Language, Travis. And I'm perfectly fine. I'm capable of doing things on my own, even at middle age."

I didn't want to roll my eyes, because that would have been rude. I let her continue to drag the steam trunk all the way to her bedroom, and I waited until she locked the door. I thought I heard her let out a soft cry, but I think I was imagining things. 

Later that night, as I was trying to go to sleep, I kept hearing my mother talking to someone over the phone. I was reminded of when I was a child, listening to my mother talk to my father secretly. I didn't want to intrude on their conversation; I was pretty tired from working at the fast-food joint earlier that day. 

Right when I was about to fall asleep, I heard a loud thump come from the room. I bolted out of bed, panic building up in my chest. It sounded like my mother had fallen. I ran out of my room, until I reached her bedroom door. Soft squishy sounds were coming from inside, and I could hear moaning. 

It sounded like my mother had hurt herself worse than I thought. I grabbed the doorknob, about to pull it open, but it was locked. She never locked her door. I heard my mother gasp, and then that squishy sound appeared to echo in a different part of her room now. 

I jumped when the doorknob turned, and my mother opened it slightly, taking a peek. I could see she was wearing her bathrobe. Her hair was wet. Strange. My mother always took a shower and blow dried her hair before bed. 

"Travis? Oh god - You scared me. What are you doing up so late? Don't you have to work tomorrow?"

"Mom, what was that sound I heard from your room? I thought you fell down -''

My mother laughed. "Nonsense. I was just moving the steam trunk into a different part of the room."

I thought about asking her about that strange squishing sound, but I kept it to myself. Her tone was off, and something did not feel right. 

"Oh. Okay. Goodnight."

"Goodnight Travis."

She closed the door. I heard the lock turn. I hesitated before going back to bed. I'm not sure if I was waiting for something to happen, but for some reason, I didn't want to find out. I went back to bed, and right when I crawled under the covers, I heard my mother's voice. 

I listened, trying to catch as much volume as I could. Her voice sounded frantic, like she was pleading with someone. That odd sound returned, and I felt sleep take over me this time. 

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This continued on and on for days. I would hear my mother talking to someone, and I would hear the creepy sounds coming from the room. I began to wonder if something was inside of that steam trunk. She was too eager to get it inside of the room, and I knew I had to find out. 

I waited for weeks, and I got my chance when she had to go to the store late at night.

"I'll be back, Travis. I need to get something. I forgot it from the store the other day."

"Alright mom. Be careful."

She kissed me on the forehead before taking off. I waited until her car pulled out of the driveway. Once I couldn't see the car headlights anymore, I went to her room. I was shocked to find that it was locked. Now I knew she was hiding something. I pulled out my phone, searching up lockpicking videos. 

I searched for anything in the house that would do, and I found a hair pen my mother had left on the kitchen counter. I felt bad about using one of her things, but she was too secretive. 

And it had been going on for too long. 

I began the painful process of lockpicking the knob. It took ages, and once I finally got it open, I released a huge sigh. I pushed open the door, and the steam trunk was in the corner of her room, next to her bed. I took several steps to the trunk, and I froze when I heard squishy sounds coming from inside. 

"What the fuck?," I whispered. 

The steam trunk wasn't even locked fully. The handle was loose, and something white was trailing down from the small opening. It looked sticky, and I did not want to touch or go near that trunk. 

But what choice did I have?

I had to know. 

I took a deep breathe, put my hands on either side of the lid, and lifted. 

Something pink and wet shot out towards my face. I screamed and tripped over my own feet, landing on my side. I groaned, feeling pain vibrate up my shoulder. I looked up at the thing that tried to attack me. I wasn't sure what the hell I was looking at. The pink thing was waving back and forth, and a pink bulb was slowly rising from the steam trunk. 

My scream caught in my throat when I was realized it was a fucking octopus. And it was alive, moving its pink tentacle back and forth, and its eyes were now looking down at me. I could have sworn it was trying to say hello to me. A white substance was dripping down its body, and it was falling from its pink tentacle. 

I stood up, my legs now feeling shaky. Actually, I couldn't even feel my legs at all. I slowly started to walk backwards, my eyes never leaving that pink thing. It belonged in the ocean. It didn't belong here. 

It didn't belong hereIt didn't belong hereIt didn't belong here. 

"You don't belong here," I whispered. 

"Travis?"

I whirled around, finding my mom standing behind me. She was holding a white grocery bag. She kept looking back and forth between me and the octopus. 

"M - Mom…I'm sorry. I didn't mean to…"

She sighed. "I guess it was inevitable."

She placed her hands on my shoulders. 

"Travis…honey…this…is your father."

"What? Mom -''

"I thought you would be born with some of his genetics, but he told me that your children are going to look like him. My grandchildren are going to be adorable!"

"Mom -stop. Please stop. You're scaring me…"

She hugged me in a tight embrace. "Everything is going to be okay. You'll see, sweetie. We're now going to be a happy family."

I thought I would scream when I felt a pink tentacle touch my shoulder in a loving embrace. Like a father would. 

I let out a sob, burying my face in my mother's shoulder. 

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Thank you for reading!

Emy Quinn