Nightmare on Jephthah Street

Light was fading on the sultry afternoon. I think I was coming back from the shop although I wasn’t carrying anything.

For some reason, it didn’t surprise me when I saw a policeman at the door of our tenement behind a strip of ‘incident’ tape. He was looking down the street and didn’t notice me. I crept under the tape and ran upstairs in the dim light. 

I passed silent apartments with their outer doors shut before I reached our flat on the third floor.

The air in the flat was hot and had a curious smell which made me think of burnt herbs. The man of the house was sitting motionless at the kitchen table, his eyes fixed on a large white plate containing a lump of raw meat and drops of blood.

Suddenly, a horrific thought came to me. 

‘Where’s our lamb, Dad?’

He didn’t answer me. I noticed that his long grey hair and beard were unkempt. His face was expressionless – it reminded me of the granite lions at the city’s cenotaph.

‘Where’s our lamb?’

He didn’t utter a word. The smell of burning herbs and the heat were becoming stifling. 

I ran into the sitting room. The lamb’s bed was empty. I didn’t have a name for him – just ‘Lamb’. The blankets in his bed were still slightly warm.

My mind was in turmoil.

In the kitchen, the man of the house hadn’t moved. I wanted to push him to see if he was still alive, but I didn’t.

‘Dad!’

He didn’t answer.

I heard footsteps on the staircase outside. Then silence.

I could hardly breathe.

Suddenly there was a terrible noise – a loud battering at the door. Then silence. Then loud battering again.

I woke suddenly, with a start. 

The room was full of smoke.

Someone was knocking frantically, and yelling, at the door.