Crik Read Free

mother had placed on the landing the day before. She had put it there to alleviate the gloom; like painting the walls white or hanging a few paintings, it did nothing to brighten the upper stairwell. Jack approved of the darkness. At least she gave up with filling the space with potted plants. Deprived of sunlight they died, and Yang took them to add to his collection of dead things.
    The wood creaked as he took the stairs two steps at a time. He passed his mother’s room, the door open wide enough for him to see the large double bed, with the turned down top sheet. Flowers lined the bedroom wall, filling the house with their sweet scent. A thick blue carpet masked his second descent.
    The living room was both the largest and the most often changed in the house. Only a week ago, he helped his mother move the high backed chairs away from the window to stand closer to the fireplace, and with far more difficulty the sideboard and two more of her display cases to take their place. Bright sunshine lit up the ornaments wonderfully in their new home, though no doubt his mother already had plans where to place them next. Beside the kitchen rested a long black wooden table, a silver candelabrum stood on elaborate crochet at its centre, with four newly placed candles.
    Pushing through to the kitchen he almost collided with his mother.
    ‘I heard you coming,’ she said, blowing a curl of black hair from her face. ‘Here are your toast and eggs.’
    How his mother could look so smart first thing in the morning never ceased to amaze him. Other mothers still wore nightclothes at midday, with their hair in disarray, complaining all the while that they were not morning people. Here his mother stood, wearing a purple dress, frills on the hem and arms, with white birds spreading their wings as they took flight up the sides. A pink apron, sprinkled with crumbs from his toast, wrapped her waist. She had brushed her long hair into waves that nestled her shoulders and cascaded down her back. She put plenty of powder on her face, in an attempt to hide the burns that disfigured her.
    A glass of fresh juice sat next to a plate on a yellow tablecloth. Behind him, his mother had placed a second plate for Yang, filled with sliced apple and pears. Despite not having to eat, Yang attacked his plate, leaving the dropped fruit for his mother to pick up.
    ‘You’re in a hurry this morning.’ His mother watched him devour his toast, with a generous helping of egg.
    ‘Got things to do,’ he mumbled around the food.
    ‘Can’t say that I blame you, all this rain we’ve had, must be torture not being able to leave the house.’
    Eating, he gave a shrug.
    He dismissed the idea of asking whether she had heard or seen anything last night. If she knew about the Giant, she would have mentioned it by now, besides he did not want to upset her. The woodland folk never entered the village; if she knew any different, she would keep a tighter rein on him.
    ‘I grew a new plant this morning.’ His mother pointed to a pot near the sink.
    Most members of Crik had a Talent; his mother’s was the ability to grow things. She only needed to concentrate on a seed to make it grow in moments. The sight of a flower blooming in seconds never ceased to amaze Jack. All the flowers in the house grew that way. Every new flower, or plant, made his mother happy. He liked it when she smiled. This morning she beamed with pride as he moved closer to the pot.
    The pot, no larger than a coffee mug, held a small purple tree. It looked different to other plants. Spear shaped leaves filled its branches, each etched with dark red veins, like blood. Moist wood yielded at his slightest touch.
    ‘Careful,’ his mother warned, ‘I don’t think that’s wood.’
    He agreed, it felt warm, almost as though he ran his finger down the spine of a rabbit.
    ‘Where’d you find this?’
    ‘I found the seed resting on the windowsill this morning.’ She moved to the oval window, laying her