The Power Within by Newton Webb

A Paranormal Short Story: A tale of family, retribution and murderous dachshunds.

1993, Tring, England

Henry snuggled up to his mother, Jane, in bed. A cosy mountain of blankets enveloped them like a protective cocoon. He was utterly captivated as the story unfolded in front of him. The glow of the large TV screen illuminated their faces, casting eerie shadows round the room. A pepperoni pizza lay in front of them, dutifully guarded by Henry’s dachshund, Pegasus. The dog’s face was lowered, resting on his tiny paws as he stared intently at the cheese-covered, meaty feast. The credits rolled for Clash of the Titans, and Jane dozed fitfully beside her son.

Henry and his mother had watched the movie together so many times that he knew every line spoken by every character. He would happily recite them in sync with the movie. As the cancer continued to ravage her, Jane’s medicine, in increasingly higher doses, meant that she spent most of the day, as well as the night, asleep. The once strong guardian that Henry had always known was withering away in front of his eyes. Her hair had fallen out, and despite the steady diet of pizza, her body was becoming more and more emaciated. When he hugged her, the familiar scent of her perfume was now overwhelmed by a harsh, chemical tang. Henry knew deep down that she was gravely ill, but she maintained a brave smile and always found time to watch TV with him. In his childhood, she had read to him; now, he returned the favour, occasionally asking for help when he came across a challenging word or a foreign name.

The shrill sound of the alarm clock jolted them awake. Pegasus hadn’t moved, suggesting he had been awake all night, guarding their leftover pizza.

“Do I have to go to school today?” Henry asked, his voice tinged with hope. “We could watch Xena: The Warrior Princess. I could find the episode where she teams up with Hercules!”

Wearily, Jane adjusted the headscarf covering her bald head and climbed out of bed. “No, go and get dressed. I’ll make you some breakfast.”

As Jane retreated to the ensuite bathroom, Henry heard the now familiar sounds of her retching. He picked up the pizza box and closed it, much to Pegasus’s dismay. The loyal dachshund had waited for hours, hoping for a crust. Henry looked at him as he wagged his tail furiously. “ No, you can’t have pizza. Mum doesn’t let you.” Pegasus lay down, inching closer and gazing up with hopeful eyes. “No, you know I can’t.” In a last-ditch effort, Pegasus rolled onto his back and whined. Henry relented, scratching the dog’s belly. “Okay, just a little bit of crust.” He broke off a piece and handed it to the eager dog, who scampered away to find a secret spot to devour his prize.

Descending the stairs, Henry stowed the remaining pizza in the fridge. The box joined a stack of them by the bin. They had eaten pizza every night for the past month. He had the pepperoni, and his mum had the garden party pizza. They always got cheesy garlic bread, which Henry considered the best part.

A voice echoed from upstairs. “Have a shower and brush your teeth.” Henry dutifully rushed upstairs to clean up and get dressed for school. When he returned, his mother had donned a new headscarf and her usual thick dressing gown. A bowl of Coco Pops and a glass of orange juice awaited him.

“Why don’t I stay at home, and we can watch Wonder Woman. How about the ‘Fausta: The NAZI Woman’ episode? It’s your favourite.” Henry sat down and began devouring his cereal.

As Jane prepared his sandwiches and filled his Hercules lunchbox, she teased, “I’m so glad you’re here to remind me of my favourite episodes.” She walked over and ruffled his hair. “But you have to go to school so that you can be smart like Odysseus.”

Henry playfully swatted her hand away and shook his hair. After he had finished his breakfast, she handed him the lunchbox. “Now, you be good and learn lots, okay?”

He nodded. 

“And don’t forget, your aunt is coming over for dinner tonight with your new uncle, Roger.” His mum patted his head. He couldn’t help but grimace. His aunt seemed to bring home a different uncle every year, and each one was worse than the last.

---

When Henry arrived home after what had seemed a very long day at school, he found his mum asleep. He made himself a sliced chicken and mayonnaise sandwich before heading upstairs. Turning on the TV, he played Ulysses 31 on his video player. Picking up a fresh box of Warhammer figurines, he began to paint three new soldiers for his Empire army.

The doorbell rang promptly at six. He heard his mother making her way slowly down the stairs. As the front door opened, he also heard the booming, boisterous voice of his new ‘uncle’ echoing up from below. Ignoring it, he focused on his models. He was doing the highlighting now, having replaced his general’s hammer with a sword, like Perseus.

Eventually, there was a knock on his bedroom door, and his mother called out, “Come on, Henry, the food has arrived. Come downstairs and join us.”

Henry glanced at his models, turned off the TV, and trudged downstairs. His aunt was enjoying a large glass of red wine, and several metal trays of curry were spread across the table.

For the first time, Henry saw his new uncle. He was an overweight, balding, aged man with gammon-pink skin. He was drinking beer straight from the can and laughing loudly. As Henry entered the dining room, the man held out his arms. “There’s the whippersnapper.” Standing up, he walked over to Henry. “What happened to your eye?”

His mother’s head jerked up, and her eyes lost the glazed look that had haunted her for months. “Let me see.”

“It’s fine,” Henry protested, but his mum was having none of it. Cupping his chin, she lifted his head.

“Who was it? Daniel again?” She released his face and pulled him into a hug. “I’ll speak to your teachers.”

Henry gently pushed her away. “No, Mum, that just makes it worse.”

“The boy’s right. He needs to toughen up.” Balling his fists, Roger jabbed into the air. “I’ll teach him some moves. Next time the bullies come knocking, they’ll find a real man waiting for them.” Pointing to the seat next to him, he motioned for Henry to join him. “Come on, Henry, we men must sit together.” Waving his empty can of lager at Gaby, he motioned for her to get him another. 

Henry shook his head and went to sit next to his mother. Holding the chair, she motioned him to sit next to Roger. “Go on, go and sit next to Roger. It’ll be good for you to bond with him.”

“That’s right, Henry. There’s a new man in town.” Roger smiled as Henry reluctantly sat next to him, slipping his arm round the boy’s thin shoulders and shaking him roughly. “Your mum is very ill, Henry, so Gaby and I will be moving in to look after both of you. About time too. We’ll get some meat on your bones.”

Alarmed, Henry looked at his mum. “It’s okay, Henry. We can’t live on pizza every day forever. It isn’t good for you. Your aunt and Roger are very kind, offering to look after us like this.”

“Don’t worry, Henry, we don’t bite.” Taking a beer from Aunt Gaby, Roger opened it and took a deep swig. “Your aunt has found some work nearby, and this town will be fighting to offer a job to a man like me, won’t it, Gaby?”

Gaby smiled. “Of course it will, Roger.”

“It’s not even in question. After all, I am an apex predator. Between us, we’ll shake this town up. Ha, Henry and I will show it who’s boss, won’t we?” Roger ruffled Henry’s hair. “Come here, you rugrat.”

Henry jerked away to avoid him. “I’m nine, nearly ten. I am not a rugrat.”

“Look at the boys bonding,” Gaby beamed. “Thank you for the lovely curry, Jane. I’m going to go to the shops tomorrow and get some proper veggies for you all and fruit for the bowl.”

“Don’t forget some steaks for the men, Gaby. We’re going to build Henry up, a couple of carnivores here. Can’t have a boy under my roof getting bullied. Daniel won’t know what hit him.” Roger laughed as he emptied his can, crushing it in his hand and dumping it on the table. He spooned a mouthful of chicken korma and rice into his mouth. “I lost my job because of all the Indians at the last place. They’ll work for breadcrumbs.”

Gaby flashed him a warning look.

“Look, I’m not being a racist. I just don’t think we should let them keep coming over here when there isn’t enough work for English people.” He munched on a slice of naan bread, gesticulating with it. “I appreciate a curry as much as the next man, but here’s the thing.” He looked round conspiratorially. “We have the recipe now…” He howled with laughter at his own joke. Gaby managed a polite smile, while Jane just sighed.

 She smiled wanly at Gaby. “I’m just glad that someone will be here to look after Henry when I…” She nibbled on some chicken tikka. Gaby reached over and held her hand, offering comfort and support.

The evening wore on, and Henry felt a creeping dread as he realised that Roger and Gaby’s presence would soon become a permanent fixture in his life. As the darkness of night enveloped the house, the shadows seemed to take on a more sinister form, mirroring the unsettling changes that lay ahead.

---

It was Gaby who woke Henry up for school the next morning. He blinked at the unfamiliar face looking down at him. Scrunching up his eyes, he pushed back the duvet and stared at the ceiling.

Climbing out of bed, he went to brush his teeth. The glass holding his toothbrush now had another two brushes in it. Still half asleep, he picked up his own toothbrush and cleaned his teeth on autopilot. The door opened behind him, and he turned to see Roger walk in, dressed in only his boxer shorts. Pulling out his member, he unleashed a torrent of urine.

Henry tried to ignore the man. However, when Roger had finished, he rubbed his hand through Henry’s hair. Henry recoiled in disgust.

“What’s your problem, kid?” Roger grunted.

Spitting in the sink, Henry protested, “You haven’t washed your hands!”

“Real men don’t piss on their hands, Henry. You’ll understand someday.” Roger walked out of the bathroom, leaving Henry to put away his toothbrush and go to the loo. This time, he locked the door behind him.

Henry went downstairs for breakfast. Roger was sitting with a plate of bacon and eggs in front of him. Henry saw a similar-sized plate for him, and his heart sank. He’d never finish all that.

“I eat Coco Pops for breakfast,” Henry walked to the cupboard with his cereal in it.

“Of course, dear,” Gaby said, moving out of his way.

“No! This boy is never going to grow into a man on cereal.” Roger swallowed a mouthful of egg. “Henry, your aunt spent a lot of time cooking this breakfast. The least you can do is eat it. You’ll look like me soon enough.”

I never, ever want to look like you.

Henry wanted his Coco Pops but didn’t want to be rude to his aunt. Conflicted, he stood there and asked, “Where is Mum?”

Gaby came over and knelt in front of him. “Sweetie, she is very tired; that’s why I’m here to help. Now, eat your breakfast and get ready for school. I’ll look after your mum for you.”

Henry walked over to the table and began to cut up the tough bacon. Chewing on the dense meat, Roger motioned to Gaby. “A beer over here. Then I’m off to get a paper and check out the job ads. This town doesn’t know what’s about to hit it.”

“It’s a bit early for a beer, Roger,” Gaby said. “Perhaps a coffee instead?”

“Don’t be lecturing me, woman, especially not in front of the boy. I won’t be henpecked.” He smiled at Henry. “You see the crap us men have to go through? This will be you one day, boy. You have to keep a firm hand, or they’ll walk all over you.” He pointed at the table. “Right here, Gaby, in your own time.”

Gaby fetched a beer from the fridge and placed it where directed.

---

Henry used to hate going to school. He didn’t have many friends, and the ever-present threat of Daniel had been a perpetual source of anxiety for him. Now, it was the return home that filled him with dread. His loud-mouthed uncle always found ways to belittle him.

He crept into the house, avoiding the living room where his uncle was sitting, watching the sports channel, shouting at the television and drinking. Heading upstairs, he saw his mother’s bedroom door was open,but it seemed it was no longer his mother’s room. Everything had changed. Aunt Gaby had made up a room for his mum downstairs and she and Roger had taken over her bedroom. He trudged along the landing to his own bedroom. Picking up his book, he soon lost himself in the world of David Gemmell.

His happy utopia was disrupted when Roger opened his bedroom door and barged in. “Time for dinner, squirt. Get yourself downstairs.”

Everyone was sitting round the table. Aunt Gaby had lit two candles and was beaming as she brought out plates of sausages, mash, and cabbage. As she placed a plate in front of everyone, Roger first, of course, she spooned over the gravy. The thick brown liquid steamed over the grey cabbage.

Henry poked the cabbage dubiously with his fork. The gravy smelled nice, but when he picked up the cabbage, it smelled like feet. He put it down again and focused on the sausage and mash.

His mother was very quiet today. She was barely touching her plate. He noted that she didn’t touch her cabbage either, barely nibbling at the sausages and a small forkful of mash. She was very, very thin. He missed eating pizza with her.

“You see, the problem with a town like Tring is that the people think they know it all. They’ve got that home counties smugness about themselves,” Roger sniffed, glugging from his can.

Gaby looked up nervously. “So, no luck finding work?”

“It’s early days. They’ll catch on soon enough. I’ll see what’s round tomorrow,” Roger belched. “This is good food, this. Yeah, anyway, I made friends with the landlord of the King’s Arms, a smart guy who knows a real man when he sees one. I’ll see if he has any work. It’s okay there.”

Henry was glad that nobody remembered to ask him how his day had gone. He didn’t want Roger to have any excuse to demean him at the table.

Dessert was a baked apple pie on a metal foil dish served with double cream straight from its plastic carton. Reaching over for it, Henry was stopped by Roger.

“What do you think you’re doing? You can’t have dessert until you’ve finished your cabbage.”

Looking down at the large mound of grey, Henry’s heart sank. Even if he had liked the cabbage, he’d been given the same-sized portion as Roger. He couldn’t possibly eat it all.

“Can I please be excused from the table?” Henry asked.

“Not until you’ve finished your vegetables,” Roger commanded. “We’ll teach you some discipline, boy. I’ll make a man of you yet.” He smiled at Jane. “Just give me two weeks, then you’ll see the difference, won’t she, Gabs?”

Gaby smiled at them.

Henry sat mutely, watching the gravy congeal until Roger and Gaby had finished their desserts. He waited while Roger had another beer and Gaby cleared the table. When his mum rose unsteadily, he asked if they could watch TV together.

“Eat. Your. Veg—” Roger started.

“Of course, dear, bring Pegasus,” his mother interjected.

Henry jumped up and yelled for Pegasus. He looked back and saw that Roger’s face had darkened. The anger in his eyes was scary. Henry followed close behind his mother as she walked into her new downstairs bedroom. Henry set up the video player and put in Jason and the Argonauts.

Henry lifted Pegasus onto the bed. He sat up next to his mother, who was propped up by pillows. Pegasus lay between them and fell instantly asleep. For a tiny dog, his snores were disproportionately loud.

His mum pulled out a large pack of Doritos. “I have your favourite, Henry.”

“Thanks, Mum!” Grinning, Henry ran to the kitchen, grabbed a large bowl before Roger or Gaby could comment, and ran back to snuggle up with his mum.

Jane emptied the bag into the bowl while Henry started the movie. Putting her arm round him, she pulled him close as the movie introduction rolled. “I know it’s hard living with new people, but someone has to look after you.”

“Why can’t it be just us?” Henry complained, wriggling into a more comfortable position.

With her free hand, Jane mussed his hair. “I’ll always be watching over my little Henry, don’t you worry, just like my mother always looked over me. We are a very old and special family.” She kissed the top of his head. “I wish I wasn’t ill, but I am. There will come a time when you’ll need your aunt and Roger to look after you.”

In disgust, Henry blew a raspberry. His mum poked him playfully. “Henry, be patient with them. They haven’t had kids before. It’s a learning process for both of you.”

Henry munched on some Doritos. He knew his mum was ill, but the concept of her not being here was too alien, too unreal for him to process.

His mum’s alarm woke him up in the morning. She gently nudged him to wake him up, then struggled out of bed to vomit in the downstairs toilet.

Getting out of bed, Henry readied himself for school. His Aunt Gaby was waiting in the kitchen with Roger.

“I picked some fresh flowers for the table to brighten up the place,” Gaby announced to Henry.

How will they help?

He ignored Gaby and sat down. He must have taken too long getting dressed. His egg was cold, and the bacon adhered itself to the plate in congealed bacon grease. He began the grim process of autopsying his breakfast and chewing on the cold carcass.

Roger put down his paper and leaned forward. “Your aunt picked flowers, Henry. You should tell her how nice they look.”

Henry shrugged. “I don’t like flowers.”

“Right.” Roger reached over, took Henry’s plate, and scooped the contents onto his own.

“Roger!” Aunt Gaby started.

Roger held up his palm to her. “This is for his own good, Gaby. The boy needs to learn some manners.”

Looking at his empty plate, Henry couldn’t believe his good fortune. Getting down, he grabbed his school bag and ran out of the door. Going hungry was preferable to eating that oversized plate of solidified grease.

School rushed by. Henry didn’t have many friends. He chose to read his book in the toilets instead of playing with the other kids. He was safe there and couldn’t be bullied. They were doing maths when he was summoned to reception. Aunt Gaby was waiting for him.

It’s Mum…

Gaby’s face told him even before she spoke.

“Henry, we have to go to the hospital. Your mum has taken a turn for the worse.”

Henry looked at her. His face crumpled up, but he refused to cry.

Gaby took his hand. “Come on, poppet, let’s go see your mum. She’ll be so happy to see you.” His legs felt like lead as she led him to the car.

The drive to the hospital seemed to take an eternity. Henry’s mind raced with worry, and he couldn’t shake off the fear which was gnawing at his insides. Gaby tried her best to keep him distracted, pointing out interesting sights along the way, but her attempts were futile.

Upon arriving at the hospital, they hurried to his mother’s room. The sight of her lying in the hospital bed, looking so frail and weak, nearly broke Henry’s heart. She managed a weak smile when she saw him.

“Hey, my brave little hero,” she whispered.

Henry swallowed hard, trying to keep his tears at bay. “Hi, Mum. How are you feeling?”

“I’ve been better, but seeing you makes me feel a bit stronger,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

Gaby stood by the door, giving them some privacy. The room was dimly lit, and the sterile scent of the hospital filled the air. Henry took his mother’s hand, determined to be strong for her.

Henry spent the afternoon at his mother’s side, telling her all about school as well as the adventures he’d been having with Pegasus. She slept as he spoke, rarely waking and even then, not for long. He kept talking, deep within him, he knew he wouldn’t have much longer to talk to her. He worked hard at keeping the conversation light and positive, avoiding any mention of Roger and Gaby.

As the day turned to evening, the doctor came in to check on his mother. He spoke with Gaby in hushed tones, casting worried glances in Henry’s direction. Henry tried to block out their conversation, focusing instead on his mother. Her skin felt dry as parchment, and it was hot to the touch.

Eventually, it was time for them to leave. Gaby explained that they would be back to visit again soon. Henry didn’t want to leave his mother’s side. But Gaby took his hand and gently led him out. With a heavy heart, he hugged his mum tightly and whispered his goodbyes.

“I love you, Mum. Get better soon, okay?”

His mother didn’t wake up, and his eyes prickled as he looked at her sleeping. Her breath was rattling in her throat.

As they left the hospital, the weight of the situation began to sink in. Henry couldn’t help but worry about the future and what it held for him and Pegasus. But for now, he would try to stay strong. It was what his mother wanted. It was what she needed.

---

 But there was no tomorrow. He was woken up by a teary Aunt Gaby who said the words that signified the end of Henry’s childhood. “I’m so sorry Henry, your mum passed away last night. She is in a better place now.”

Henry looked at Gaby with a blank expression.

“Did you hear me, Henry?” She reached out and touched his arm.

He blinked slowly. “Can I be alone for a bit?” he asked numbly.

“Of course, I’ll phone the school.” Gaby gave him a pitying look. “You stay in bed and I’ll bring you an orange squash.”

---

The funeral was a dismal affair. A gentle drizzle misted the stained glass windows as they watched the coffin disappear into the crematorium. Tinny speakers played his mother’s favourite song, “Running Bear” by Johnny Preston. Roger remained silent and stoic in his stiff suit, while Aunt Gaby wept softly.

At the wake afterwards, wine was served alongside sandwiches and cake platters. Henry lost count of all the people who approached him, telling him how brave he was. He felt numb. His mother, who had been the bulwark in his life and ever-present, was gone, not just for a short time but gone from his life forever. Into this huge, gaping chasm strode Uncle Roger and Aunt Gaby.

During the reading of the will, they both sat silently as the house and all of his mother’s assets were placed into a trust for Henry until he turned eighteen. In the meantime, Uncle Roger and Aunt Gaby were to receive a small maintenance income from his trust along with permission to live in the house as his guardians up to the day of his eighteenth birthday. His stomach sank at the thought of being trapped with the two of them, day after day, for eight more years of his life.

They weren’t custodians; they were his torturers.

---

The day after the funeral, Henry was sitting in his room painting his models. Uncle Roger had insisted that routine was important, so he had trudged to school. Even the bullies had more respect than his uncle, as they left him alone in his dark depression.

“What are you doing?” Uncle Roger appeared behind him. Henry’s bedroom had no lock—it hadn’t seemed important before. Now, it meant that his room was no longer a sanctuary.

Henry lifted a regiment of Empire spearmen on their movement tray. “I’ve painted them as Ancient Greek hoplites. Look, the armour is bronze.”

Roger bent down. “Rainbow colours? What’s wrong with good old English soldiers? You should paint those archers green like Robin Hood, the greatest archer to ever live.” He patted Henry on the back, knocking over several of the men on the tray. Henry quickly put the tray down on his desk where it would be safe. “Wait here,” Roger ordered, as if Henry intended to go anywhere else. “I’ll get you a video showing you some real soldiers.”

From the doorway, Aunt Gaby leaned in. “Look at my boys hanging out together.” She handed Roger a beer as he walked past her. Henry had a moment’s peace before Roger returned with a VHS tape.

“Look at this. Real knights. None of those pastel colours. Paint your soldiers like this.” He waved at the assembled ranks of Henry’s models. “This is all crap. The enemy will see them a mile away. Here, paint them in steel, like Saint George. He slew a dragon, which is better than anything the Greeks did.”

Henry looked confused. “Saint George was Greek. My mum told me.”

“I don’t mean to speak ill of the dead, but your mum was into some proper hippy-dippy nonsense,” Roger sneered with disgust. “Look, this is precisely why you get beaten up, kid. Saying stupid stuff like that. St. George is the patron saint of England, not Greece.” Roger waved the VHS tape angrily. “He was one of King Arthur’s knights, for Christ’s sake. Arthur wasn’t a bloody foreigner, was he? You can’t go round insulting our patron saint. Next, you’ll be saying that he was black.” Roger left the room, still holding Henry’s spearman. “Gabs, get over here. Listen to this crap the kid just said.”

Walking over to the door, Henry shut it firmly.

Idiot. Sir Morien was a knight of the round table and he was black. 

Picking up the next spearman and his brush, he once again applied bronze to the helmet. When it was done, he placed it down in the regiment.

The spearman saluted him.

Henry blinked. All the models sat in the regiment tray. All stood in identical poses. He picked it up and turned it round. Nothing. He put it back down again.

Weird. Was he losing his mind?

Back to reality as Aunt Gaby called him down to join them. Dinner was a heaped plate of chicken nuggets, chips, and soggy broccoli. Eating the nuggets and half his chips, he politely asked Roger for his Empire spearman model back.

Silence fell across the dinner table.

“It must seem harsh to you, Henry,” Roger said thoughtfully, finishing his can and placing it next to the two other empties. “When I was a child, I used to have a teddy bear. The best thing my father ever did was to burn it. You see, it marked my passage from boy to man.” Looking at Gaby, he grinned. “It made me the man I am today, and Henry, I will make you into a man. Soon, you’ll be like me.”

Gaby winked over her shoulder at them.

Henry felt sick to his stomach. “What do you mean?”

“I’m going to enrol you in sports clubs. We’ll find the money for it somewhere.”

It’s my mother’s money!

“First, tonight, we’re going to the garden, and we’re going to make you a man.”

Already dreading the answer, Henry’s eyes widened in horror. “What do you mean?”

“We’re going to burn your toys, Henry. Then—”

“No!” Henry screamed. He threw back his chair and ran from the table. Behind him, he could hear the angry yelling of his uncle, but he didn’t care. He made it to his room and barricaded the door with a chair. It didn’t last a second. Roger threw open the door in a fury, smashing the chair in the process and sending the broken pieces flying across Henry’s bedroom.

“Don’t you ever leave the table again without permission, boy.” Roger walked in and grabbed Henry by his t-shirt. Pegasus, the family dog, ran up behind Roger and started barking wildly, snapping at his heels.

Henry pulled free. “You can’t take my toys.”

Grabbing him by the throat, Roger threw Henry onto the bed. He pulled free his belt, then swore as Pegasus bit him on the ankle. He turned and kicked the dachshund, who yelped as he was flung across the landing. Turning back, Roger cracked the tough leather against his palm. Henry scooted up the bed, his eyes wide with fear. “Right, time for you to learn a—”

At that moment, Aunt Gaby ran in and spread her arms protectively over Henry. “Don’t, Roger, please. He doesn’t understand. He’s only just lost his mum. Henry’s only a little boy, he’s still grieving.”

Roger caught Gaby’s arm in his grip and pulled her away. “Don’t contradict me in front of the boy, woman. This is for his own good.”

A small voice sounded. “They’re very valuable.”

“What?” Roger said, letting go of Gaby.

Henry spoke again, this time louder. “They’re collector’s items. A lot of them are rare or out of production.”

Roger paused, a peculiar look crossing his face. “Well, fine. We won’t burn them, but we do need to burn something.”

As the two males looked hard at each other, Gaby reached out and picked up a White Dwarf magazine. “This is the current issue. It can’t be rare. What about this?”

Roger snatched it from her. “Yes, this is perfect. Get a beer for me and one for Henry. Tonight he becomes a man.” Jerking his thumb towards the door, he motioned for Henry to follow.

As Henry left, he noticed, with a frown, that every model in his room was facing the doorway where Roger had been standing. He went over to Pegasus, who was shaking in the corner. “It’s okay, Pegasus, we’ll get through this.” The little dog licked his hand, and Henry cuddled him until he heard Roger calling for him downstairs.

They stood in the garden. Henry blocked out Roger’s speech as they watched his White Dwarf magazine burning in a repurposed metal dust bin. Roger snapped open a tin of beer and passed it to Henry. “Gross,” he muttered under his breath. He grimaced as he took a small sip.

“I want to find an empty can when I wake you tomorrow morning, Henry,” Roger blustered, his chest puffed out. “You’re a man now. Take a photo of us, Gaby.”

Gaby dutifully photographed them as they stood together by the flames. Roger’s arm was round Henry, his broad, florid face grinning triumphantly. Henry, however, gave the camera a dark, hate-filled scowl. 

---

By the next day, Henry’s room had been stripped of all his toys. They’d been boxed and taped up. His poster of the 1981 movie, “Clash of the Titans,” had been replaced by a worn poster of Tottenham FC.

After school, Roger was waiting for him. 

Henry was taken to a football ground and given a change of clothing. Standing in shorts and t-shirt in the freezing cold, he watched as Roger strolled across the field and went into the pub next door. The team captains were selected by the coach and everyone else had to line up. The two captains walked up and down the line, choosing their team members one by one and assigning them all positions that were meaningless to Henry. He was the last person to be picked. Then a coin was flipped to determine which team was skins and which team was shirts. To his horror, Henry found himself in late October, standing in goal, topless and getting soaked in the pouring rain. Stamping his feet to get warm, he watched the ball fly straight past him and into the net. He had been thinking about his toys and hadn’t noticed the players moving closer and closer to his end of the pitch. Insults, jibes, and slurs were directed at him, and the coach shook his head in dismay.

By the time they got home, Henry had a blocked nose and was thoroughly upset. He quietly took Pegasus, their miniature dachshund, for a walk before he could be shouted at. The little dog wagged his tail and trotted happily alongside him. Henry smiled at his only ally.

By the time Henry and Pegasus returned from their walk, Henry’s dinner was cold. Gaby thoughtfully microwaved it for him, passing him a plate that was nuclear hot on the edges and stone cold in the centre. Anything once crisp had now softened to a mush. Hungry, he ate what he could. Roger was in the other room laughing at the TV. At least that meant that he didn’t have to wait for permission to leave the table. That was a relief.

Climbing the stairs, he went for a shower. His Loony Toons toothbrush had been replaced with a new Oral-B one. The hard bristles scratched at his teeth as he spat blood along with the toothpaste into the sink.

Looking at his bookshelves, to his horror, he saw that all his classic books of Greek and Roman legends, all his White Dwarf magazines, his comic books, and annuals had been removed. The shelves were empty.

Henry snuggled up in bed with his one David Gemmell book. It was a lone survivor of the cull, having been tucked away in his school bag. Pegasus jumped up on the bed and curled in next to him. Quietly, Henry read from his book, narrating the adventures of Druss the Legend to Pegasus. The little dog fell asleep instantly, snuffling in his sleep and occasionally kicking his legs, chasing rabbits as he ran across the fields of his dreams.

---

Next day, Roger picked Henry up from school again to drive him to his next sporting activity: boxing. Now, instead of one bully beating him up, thirty boys took turns pummeling him. Bruised, battered, and tearful at the end of the session, Roger took one look at the distraught child and shook his head.

“The boy’s soft,” he said to the instructor. “His mother pandered to him, and now he’s good for nothing. I’m trying to fix him, but it’ll take some time.” Handing the instructor a tenner, he accepted his condolences and, as they walked away, he grabbed Henry firmly. “You come with me. You’ve embarrassed yourself, your family, and worst of all, me.” He dragged Henry to the car.

 Returning home, they found Gaby was still out. A note on the side apologised, but she had been asked to stay late and do overtime to cover for another colleague. “Fucking cow. Does nobody respect me in this house?” Roger stormed out. He called back to Henry, “You can wait for me while I get dinner.” Henry retreated to his room.

He searched the house for Pegasus. Panic rose in his chest when he couldn’t find his little friend anywhere. Then, just as he was passing by the kitchen window, he saw him, he was outside in a wooden doghouse, and he had been chained to a post. The little dog was lying on the cold ground, shivering, his head resting on his paws. The two of them locked eyes.

Henry climbed into the shower to wash off the sweat from his two-hour beating at the boxing club. When he emerged, he found that Roger had dished out fish and chips onto three plates. Henry ignored the beer can handed to him and instead picked at his chips.

“I was a boxer in my younger days,” Roger proclaimed proudly. His mouth ejected a flake of fish which Henry stared at. “My fists were famous. Nobody messed with me. That’s what makes a man, Henry.”

Henry looked up dubiously at the parasite, who was reliant on the bottle, his aunt, and his house. “I get that this is a big change for you, but could you imagine living in the real world after being raised as you were? I have to sort you out for your own good.” Crunching his can, Roger tossed it across the table. “It isn’t just you, though, Henry. When your aunt comes home, I’m going to talk to her about the meaning of respect. I don’t mind her having a job. God knows the pittance we get from your trust fund won’t get us far. But she doesn’t need to rub it in my face.”

Henry couldn’t eat any more. He felt sick to his stomach. “Pegasus is only little. I don’t think he’s supposed to be outside. He wears a coat when he goes for walks.”

Shaking his head, Roger exhaled in disbelief. “Can you listen to yourself? Just for a minute. Repeat that and really listen to it.”

“Pegasus is only—”

“He’s a fucking dog!” Roger roared, “an apex predator.” Roger’s fist smashed onto the table, making the plates jump. “A coat? A fucking coat. No! Like you, he’s going to learn. Either he becomes a proper dog, or he dies. We won’t carry dead weight in this house. That coat is going in the bin.” Rolling his eyes, Roger continued, “Pegasus!You set that dog up to fail when you named him after a bloody horse.”

Roger looked at his empty beer can. “I’ve got a lot of work ahead of me, cleaning up the mess your wishy-washy mother left behind. Wash these plates up and then you can go. Get me another beer while you’re at it.”

Stock still, Henry glared at the man with pure, unadulterated hatred.

“Don’t you look at me like that, you little puke.” Roger raised his hand to strike him. Henry flinched and instinctively covered his face. “That’s better, some respect. Now, do those dishes.” Roger went and got his own beer from the fridge.

Henry climbed down from the table and loaded the dishwasher. Climbing the stairs, he sat alone on his bed and cried. The TV flicked on. He blinked; it was ‘Clash of the Titans.’ He went over to the TV and turned it off. Climbing back into bed, he curled up. The TV blinked back on again. It was the middle of the movie. The TV must be breaking. His heart sank. Roger would never buy him another one. Getting up again, he went to turn it off at the mains.

It was unplugged.

He could still hear the TV set, but it wasn’t getting any power. He looked at the portable aerial. Could it be getting power from the air? He clambered back into bed, hoping it would run out of juice soon.

Perseus had just found his sword, shield, and helm. “Turn me round!” bellowed a voice from the television. He blinked. It should be Zeus, but it sounded like his mother.

Harry Hamlin as Perseus obeyed and turned the shield round. In the movie, instead of Laurence Olivier playing Zeus, he saw his mother’s face looking at Perseus. Henry watched awestruck. “Find and fulfil your destiny,” she said, smiling at Perseus.

“Mum? Mum, I miss you,” Henry cried out.

Henry woke with a start, tears in his eyes. It had just been a dream. Depression fell like winter snow, weighing him down—then he saw it. Beside him on the bed lay a large metal sword with a lightning bolt engraved upon its surface.

A grim smile crossed his face.

His mother had given him the tools to deal with his oppressor. She was still watching over him after all.

---

Uncle Roger was running low on beer. 

Gabs had better bring me more on the way home. She’s in enough trouble as it is. 

He had tried down the yard for work this morning only to find it full of immigrants. Seeing that Gabs had got an extra shift was salt in the wound. Then there was that damned kid, still chained to the corpse of his mother by a metaphorical umbilical cord. 

I’d kick him out if I could, but we need this house. 

No one was round to fetch him a beer, but there were two left in the fridge. He got up, deciding to get them both. Whisky would suffice until Gaby brought home some more. As he walked towards the kitchen, he saw paw prints—muddy, filthy paw prints—leading upstairs. Grabbing his beer, he saw the dog’s chain outside hanging limp. That wuss had disobeyed him for the last time. He pulled clear his belt and cracked it against the palm of his hand. “This has been a long time coming, kid,” he muttered. 

He walked up the stairs, slightly unsteady from all the beer he had drunk. Throwing open the door, he saw the little brat standing in the corner of his bedroom holding a—was that a sword? Raising a sword against him? 

Henry stood, the sword pointing at him defiantly. “Get out of my house,” he demanded.

Batting the sword aside easily with his belt, Roger grabbed the front of Henry’s pyjama top and lifted him high. “Oh, you want to fight, is that it? Where was this enthusiasm at the boxing hall, eh?” 

Ignoring him, Henry’s eyes locked onto Roger’s. Lifting up the sword, he shouted, “Zeus, grant me strength.” The room blazed with white light. Roger was flung across the room. His solid body splintered the door as it smacked against it. The roof exploded as lightning tore apart the ceiling and crackled all round Henry. 

What the hell? 

Roger shielded his eyes, squinting, as he crawled out of the bedroom onto the landing. The lightning died down, and he was left looking at—

Is that Henry? 

Aged by thirty years, Henry, or something resembling him, stood with rippling muscles. He was tall, very tall, and he was wearing archaic bronze armour. 

He’s taller than me…

A deep, booming voice echoed through the shattered husk of the bedroom. “Apollo, grant Pegasus the power of flight.” Pegasus was in the far corner of the room, hiding under Henry’s painting desk, shaking and panting with fear. A blaze of light surrounded the miniature dachshund as it grew in size. Toy soldiers were scattered as the dog swelled. A pair of huge, white, feathered wings erupted from his back as Pegasus filled the room. The dog was four feet tall when he finally stopped growing. His long, narrow spine gave him a serpentine look. The floors groaned under the strain of his weight. His claws sank deep into the cheap wood. 

Roger froze in fear. 

Pegasus looked at him long and hard. His growl was low and menacing. 

Roger turned and crawled towards the stairs, whimpering. “That isn’t a dog. That is not a dog.” Roger heard the loud, measured tread of the man walking towards him and turned to find ‘Henry’ looming over him. 

Henry reached down and picked up Roger by the shirt. The cloth tore as if it were paper. 

Roger turned to run but was caught by the throat. In the man’s eyes, Roger saw nothing but pure, unadulterated hate. 

“The strong do what they can, and the weak suffer what they must,” Henry said with grim satisfaction before balling his fist and striking Roger in the jaw. Shattered teeth and vibrant red blood sprayed the walls. Roger was thrown down the stairs, his jaw broken. He could only manage a mewling groan before his skull cracked against the stairwell wall, his knee shattered, and his neck twisted at an unnatural angle. 

Silence fell across the house.

---

Gaby returned home from work, having done her overtime shift. She opened the door to find Roger lying limp in his armchair, drenched in sweat. “Roger?” she asked. When he didn’t respond, she walked over to find his face frozen in fear. An empty beer can was still clutched in his hand. 

After calling the ambulance, she ran tearfully to Henry’s room. Inside, Henry was sitting serenely, painting his Empire soldiers. He looked up as she entered. At his feet, Pegasus wagged his tail happily. “It’s your Uncle Roger. He’s dead,” Gaby said, her voice trembling. 

Henry looked at her, deadpan. “That is a shame.” 

Then he returned to painting his models.

---

The following day, as Gaby drove to work, exhausted from a sleepless night, she listened to the radio. Simon Mayo was hosting the Breakfast Show on BBC Radio One. “And that was ‘I’d Do Anything for Love (But I Won’t Do That)’ by Meatloaf, still at number one. Now we have a special message for Gaby from her sister Jane—”

Gaby blinked in surprise.

If you enjoyed this free short story, then please consider Tales of the Macabre, Vol. 1. My first collected works on Amazon containing sixteen short stories and novellas by Newton Webb.