The mangle is insidious. It dwells within the breast of every man, woman, and child. When it manifests depends on the host. Some are more resistant, and some need pruning at an early age. Atropos strikes the line, and my daughter makes the cuts. Should she falter in her duty allowing stragglers to slip through the net, well, the monster you hear clawing beneath the bed might be more than just a nightmare.
“What’s wrong with Mr. Fishy?” Patty asked.
She didn’t understand. He’d been swimming funny for a week and her brother Robert said they’d take him to the fish doctor. Her brother was always so smart. He told her so.
“I’m smart, Patty,” he’d say. “That’s why you have to listen to me.”
Patty listened to him. She got the stethoscope from Mom’s closet and pressed the suction cup thingy against the glass fishbowl. Patty could be a fish doctor. She knew what a heart was supposed to sound like.
Thump, thump. That’s the noise her heart made, but that’s not what she heard from Mr. Fishy.
“He’s not well, sweetheart,” her mother said. She knelt by the toilet and held Patty, who was snuffling. “Mr. Fishy is homesick.”
“Homesick? Like me, when you and Daddy are away?”
“Yes, just like that, honey.” Her mother smiled. She had long, dark brown hair and just the barest hint of wrinkles under her eyes. Her face was kind, warm, and soft like bedsheets. Patty wanted to be just like her. She had brown hair too, but she was short and her hands stubby and small. “Now, dry your eyes.” Her mother touched her cheek. “You want to be a big girl, don’t you?”
Patty nodded, rubbing her eyes on the sleeve of her pink gown. She helped her mother pour the contents of a small round fishbowl into the toilet. Her fish wasn’t swimming anymore. He was so sick, just floating on the surface like a piece of driftwood.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Fishy. It’s time for you to go home,” she said, standing on her tippy toes and pulling the toilet handle.
Her mother lifted Patty into her arms, and she hung onto the back of her neck, looking down at the toilet bowl as Mr. Fishy spun down the drain and went back to the ocean. He would be home again soon, happy and healthy.
— ✦ —
Patty played on the porch, lining up peanuts at her feet, sitting beneath a swinging bench on the patio. There was a spring breeze, and it felt good in the shade. She yawned, looking across the street as cars passed and the older kids played tag on their neighbor’s lawn. Birds chirped overhead and she could hear church bells nearby as a one-eyed chipmunk with no tail jumped onto the patio.
She’d seen other animals like this, squirrels missing fur and pigeons without feathers.
There was a thief in the neighborhood.
“Mr. Fuzzles,” Patty said, lowering her voice. She pushed the peanuts further away from her feet and toward the animal. “Would you like a snack?”
The chipmunk moved quickly, stopping to eye her as if she were a predator. Patty stayed still, holding her breath and puffing her cheeks. He came closer and closer until he was inches away from her toes, snatching one peanut and turning it over in his little hands. The chipmunk made scratching noises as it chewed open the nut, spilling its contents onto the patio.
He was so cute!
“Patricia, what are you doing?” Robert asked. He dropped his red bike on the front lawn and came up the stairs and onto the patio.
Patty’s head jerked up, and the chipmunk bolted between the floorboards, leaving part of a peanut behind. “Aw, Rob!” She puffed her cheeks, crossing her arms.
“You aren’t feeding those things again, are you?” Robert asked, hands on his hips and a scowl on his face.
Robert was eight years older than her, his hands thick with callouses. He was lanky, with curly red hair and spots under his eyes. Like their dad, he wore thick jeans and an old pair of work boots scuffed down to the heel. It must’ve been boiling.
“No,” Patty said, looking down at her feet.
“I told you if you continue to do that, they’ll come to rely on you. What happens when we leave? Those rodents won’t have any food.”
“But, Mr. Fuzzles is my friend.” Patty looked down at her feet. She hadn’t the heart to tell him that Mr. Fishy had gone home.
“Patty, it wouldn’t hurt for you to make an actual friend.” Robert sighed, offering her his hand. “Come on, let’s go inside and see what Ma is making for supper.”
Patty crawled from under the swing chair, took his hand, and walked into the kitchen.
— ✦ —
“What about the thing in the sink?” Patty asked.
“Honey, there isn’t anything living in the sink,” Mommy said.
Patty knew better than that. She heard it in the walls, scratching the pipes and whispering from the drain. She was scared, staying up and wetting the bed. Patty couldn’t use the bathroom, especially now that something was living in the sink.
Scratch, scratch.
“Go away!” she screamed, hiding under the covers.
“Patricia, what’s wrong?” Daddy asked, rushing into the bedroom.
“It’s coming to get me,” Patty said. She cried, tears streaming down her cheeks.
Robert was up too. He never said a word, but she saw how he stiffened and heard him grunting, laying with his back to her, probably wishing he could get a room of his own.
Daddy checked the closet, but it wasn’t there. No, it was in the sink, whispering from the drain.
“Daddy, check the pipes. Check the pipes.”
“It’s just the water heater,” he said, yawning.
Her dad was gruff, tired, and had a deep cough. He kept his beard trimmed and his hair was red like Roberts, hands far thicker, with a blunt nose and a stocky mustache. A man who looked the part of a miner, years of hard work taking its toll, hunched and sore.
“Sweetheart,” her mommy said, hugging her close. “There’s nothing but water in the pipes, and you know that.”
“But, what about Mr. Fishy?” Patty asked. “Doesn’t he live in the drain?”
“Mr. Fishy?”
Yes, her pet fish. Why had Mommy already forgotten? They’d been together for two years. Her best friend wore golden scales and had silver eyes, a tail like a kite, and fins like mommy’s spatula. He was married to a mermaid from a distant kingdom and had tea with Patty after school every day. Mr. Fishy was why she didn’t need a nightlight anymore, but now… But now…
“What if he’s trapped?” Patty asked, suddenly realizing the thing in the sink may not be a monster. “I have to help him!”
“Oh, honey, he’s in the ocean now.” Mommy smiled, patting her head. “You’re such a good girl to think of your friend.”
“But what if he got too big for the drain? What if he got stuck? He must be hungry,” Patty said.
“Then we’ll leave what’s left of the fish food in the sink tonight, and you can look for your friend in the morning, okay?”
“Okay.”
“Do you want to sleep with Mommy tonight?”
“Yes, please! I love you, Mommy!”
Mommy took her into her arms. She was so warm. Patty yawned, asleep in an instant.
— ✦ —
“Hello, Mr. Fishy, are you there?” Patty asked. She stood on a stool in front of the lime-green bathroom sink, the morning light peeking through the window.
The fish food was gone. He must’ve been hungry last night, that’s why he made so much noise. Patty turned on the faucet, letting the cool water run down the sink so her friend could breathe.
“Mr. Fishy?”
“Patty, what are you doing?” Robert stepped into the bathroom, stretching and rubbing his eyes. “It’s too early for you to be up.”
“I’m helping Mr. Fishy,” she said.
Robert sighed, shaking his head. “Your goldfish is dead, Patty. He’s not in the sink or living in the toilet.”
“No!” she cried, hopping off the stool and making fists with her hands. “That’s not true! Mommy said he was sick, and we sent him back to the ocean to be healthy again!”
“He’s not sick. He’s dead. The sooner you learn the difference, the better.”
“You take that back!” Her eyes grew watery and her cheeks red. “He’s not dead… He’s not…”
No, no, not Mr. Fishy! Her brother was wrong. He had to be wrong. Patty heard him last night in the pipes. Mr. Fishy was alive! Wasn’t he?
Patty burst into tears, running out of the bathroom and slamming the door behind her.
— ✦ —
Patty was just tucked into bed the next night when the noises started. Her brother was sound asleep across from her and she could hear her parents snoring. Her side of the bedroom was colorful, with dolls, daisies, and a bright red carpet. The moon was pale that night and showed through the window, illuminating her brother’s model car collection and casting strange shadows against the wall. Pipes from the hot water furnace coiled beneath the window and jerked as if something were tapping on them below.
Scratch, scratch, went the pipes.
Patty breathed a sigh of relief. She knew her brother had to be wrong. Mr. Fishy wasn’t dead, he just came out at night like the owls.
She snuck out of bed, tiptoeing across the carpet, out of her bedroom, across the hall, and into the bathroom. She shut the door behind her. The noises were so much louder, a shrill cry coming from the sink.
Bang!
Patty jumped, the pipes beneath the bathtub and toilet shuddering and the sink knobs twisting on their own, but no water came out, something plugging the valves.
Her knees shook, and the little hairs on her neck stood up.
This didn’t sound like a goldfish.
“I can hear her,” said something in the sink. “She’s beautiful.”
The drain pulsed, and the plug popped out like a champagne cork, flying across the bathroom and striking the wall.
Patty gulped, pulling out the stool and stepping up to look down into the drain. With shaking hands, she touched the lip of the sink, which now felt slimy and wet like a frog’s skin.
“Hello, M-Mr. Fishy?” she said. Her voice was shaky, and she was sweating.
The drain went silent, and the pipes stopped banging.
“I’ll get you out.”
Patty came prepared, this time having snuck a spool of thread from her mother’s sewing kit and hidden it in her nightgown. She strung the line down the sink. “Here, grab hold and I’ll pull you out,” she said.
Patty felt tugging and then something ripped the spool out of her hands, sucking it down the pipes. She yelped, tripping off the stool and landing on the floor.
“What is this?” said a voice from the drain.
“I-I’m sorry.” Patty backed against the door and hugged her knees to her chest.
A red eye at the end of a long stalk rose from the sink. “Little girl,” it said with a feminine voice. “I’m hungry, little girl.”
“I’m sorry,” Patty said again, her hands shaking. She soiled herself, wetting the bathroom floor.
“Bring me something to eat.”
Now the walls were sticky, and the tiles convulsed, dripping with mucus as if the room were alive. Patty screamed, jumping to her feet and grabbing at the doorknob. She twisted the handle and pulled hard, but it was no use. The door was locked.
“Bring me something to eat, you little whore!” said the shower, spitting hot water and steam.
She screamed again, tugging at the knob so hard she thought it might rip off. Then, finally, the door opened. Her parents were on the other side, and she leaped into her mommy’s arms, crying onto her shoulder.
“Get away!” Patty shouted. “It’s coming to get us!”
“Honey,” her mother whispered. “There’s nothing there.”
Daddy was already checking the bathroom, but it was empty save for the drain plug lying on the floor.
“I swear, there was a monster,” Patty said. She cried, holding her mother and burying her nose in her shoulder.
“Come on, sweetheart. Let’s go back to bed.”
Of course, they didn’t believe her. First were the fairies in the window, then the basement-dwelling gremlins, and now the monster in the sink. Patty had an overactive imagination. That’s what daddy thought.
But he was wrong.
She knew fairies, gremlins, and monsters were real because they built nests on her windowsill, lived under the mop, and whispered from the sink, hungry with a bad attitude.
The noises stopped for the rest of the night, but Patty couldn’t sleep even in her mother’s arms.
— ✦ —
“Mommy?” Patty asked the next night as she was tucked into bed. “What’s a whore?”
“Where did you hear that?!” Mommy shouted.
“The monster in the sink told me.”
“Patricia, there isn’t anything living in the sink!”
Robert rolled his eyes, pulling the covers over his head.
“But, Mom, what about the noises?”
Her mother sighed, sitting at the edge of the bed. “Patty,” she said, more softly this time. “You can’t keep doing this every night. You need to be a big girl for us.”
“I know,” Patty said, snuffling loudly. “But I’m scared.”
“You want to be a big girl, don’t you?”
Patty nodded.
“Being grown up means we learn to face our fears. Can you do that for me, sweetheart?”
She nodded, wiping the tears from her eyes.
“That’s my girl.” Mommy kissed her cheek. “I’m just across the hall, okay?”
Mommy left their bedroom door cracked open and there was a new nightlight glowing softly from the plug next to her bed.
“Rob,” Patty whispered. “Will you protect me?”
“Nothing is living in the sink, Patty. Go to sleep.” He rolled over, sighing loudly. “Yes, I will protect you.”
Patty pulled a pillow over her head to cover her ears. Hours passed, but sleep wouldn’t come. She listened for her parents’ snoring and the bell of their grandfather clock ringing twelve times. That’s when the noises started.
“Millia Gnu Aye,” said the pipes by the window. “Millia Gnu Aye, Millia Gnu Aye, Millia Gnu Aye.”
Patty squeezed the pillow tight against her ears, but it was no use. The voices were pervasive, and the banging began not long after.
“Big girls face their fears,” Patty said to herself, her hands and knees shaking and beads of sweat dripping from her cheeks.
“She’s beautiful.” The pipes rattled, that strange feminine voice almost musical. “Can you hear her? She’s so beautiful.”
Patty crawled out of bed, creeping down the hall and jumping when she heard the shower head banging against the bathroom wall.
“I’m hungry, I’m hungry, I’m hungry…”
She stood outside the bathroom door, fidgeting with an apple she snuck from the kitchen that morning. She tossed the fruit into the tub, careful not to step inside, her teeth clattering.
A long tongue came out, coiling around the apple like a viper. “What is this?” asked the sink.
“I-I brought you something to eat.” Patty kept her voice down, but her heart was thumping so fast she could feel it in her ears.
“Oh, little girl.” The voice was soft like her mommy’s. “This simply will not do.” That eye poked out of the sink, glowing bright red, and fixated on her. “I require something raw, bloody, and stripped from the bone.” The door frame grew moist and sticky as it spoke. “This thing is red, but it doesn’t bleed or squeal. There are no bones to crunch and no marrow to sip.” It flung the apple from the tub, bouncing across the floor and rolling until it touched her toes.
“Are you carniferous?” Patty asked, trying to remember the word.
The voice changed, becoming more masculine, angry, and loud. “No, I am Homunculous you bitch! Bring me your brother!”
Patty yipped, jumping away from the door and down towards the kitchen. What could she find, bony and raw? The leftovers from dinner still lay on the kitchen table. Daddy’s chicken legs were cold and more than a little bloody. So, she took them upstairs, tiptoeing past her parents, who were sound asleep.
“Do you like chicken?” Patty’s hands shook as she gently slid the meat next to the tub.
The shower curtains raddled like a snake’s tail and the pipes started banging again. That tongue, raspy, red, and wet, came from the tub and wrapped around the meat.
“Bloody and raw,” said the sink. “I require bloody and raw.”
Patty made fists with her hands, gathering her courage. “Um, Mrs. Sink? Have you seen my pet fish? Did he make it to the ocean?”
The floor quaked, and pipes hissed as rusty water bubbled from the drains and a boiling sour-smelling fluid leaked from the faucets.
“No, no fish. Nothing but I may live down here!”
The door slammed in Patty’s face; the wind whipping past her hair as if from a violent storm.
“Meanie,” Patty whispered, turning back to bed but jumping when she saw her brother glaring at her from their bedroom door.
“Patty, what are you doing?!” he said.
“I needed to go.” She bit her lip. He wouldn’t believe her, not about Mr. Fishy or Mrs. Sink.
“You’re such a pain, come on.” Robert took her hand. “If our parents catch you up again, they’ll be mad.”
Patty yawned, looking back over her shoulder towards the bathroom.
Maybe the monster in the sink would disappear now that it was fed.
— ✦ —
The thing in the sink didn’t go away. At the stroke of midnight the next day, the pipes rattled, and the shower hissed. The voices sang louder and louder, but only Patty seemed to hear them.
“Millia Gnu Aye,” the voice said. “Millia Gnu Aye, Millia Gnu Aye, Millia Gnu Aye.”
“No, please, not again.” Patty squeezed her ears shut, but the sounds persisted.
“Can you hear her, little girl? Can you hear her calling to us? Whispering beneath the heart, the pus, and the blood?”
“Go away. Please go away.”
“We’re hungry, little girl. So very hungry!” The voice pounded in her ear like a struck kettle at breakfast. A sick gurgling noise came from the bathroom as a long red tongue slid under her bedroom door, slapping against the wood and pulling. The door creaked open and she could smell something sour and rotten as if it were breathing on the back of her neck from down the hall.
“Bring us meat from the bone, blood from the artery, pus from the sore. Robert, where are you, Robert?”
“Go away!”
“Patricia, that’s enough,” Robert said in a harsh but quiet tone. He stood from his bed, throwing his pillow across the room. “For God’s sake, go to sleep.”
The pipes went silent, a predator in the grass, but there was a creaking noise where the bathroom door swung slowly open and closed, the wind blowing in from an open window.
“Rob, I’m sorry. It’s so scary. I fed it. I shouldn’t have fed it. It wants more, like the chipmunks. It won’t go away.”
“Patty.” Robert sat on her bed and sighed. “Nothing is living in the sink. Please go to sleep.”
“No, it’s there. I know it’s there. Please believe me!” Patty burst into tears and buried her face against his shoulder. “She’s hungry. She’s calling your name.”
“You have got to grow up.” Robert shoved her. “Fine, I’ll prove there’s nothing in there.”
He stepped out of their bedroom and down the hall towards the bathroom. Patty’s heart raced as she ran after him.
“No, Rob, please don’t.” She wrapped her arms around his leg. “Please, I won’t feed the chipmunks anymore. Just please don’t.”
She heard rustling coming from their parent’s bedroom.
Robert shoved her again and stepped into the bathroom.
Patty held her breath, sitting on the floor, pressing her hands to her lips as she searched the shadows by the tub for any movement.
There was nothing. The sink was quiet, the shower head still, and the toilet bowl didn’t sputter, sweat, or bleed.
Robert spun around to face her, standing between the sink and the tub and shaking his head. “See, Patty?” he said with his hands crossed. “There’s nothing—”
The door slammed shut and Patty jumped to her feet, screaming, grabbing at the doorknob and pulling. It didn’t budge locked tight as before and she heard muffled shouts and struggling from within the bathroom.
“Mommy, help us!”
Her parents rushed down the hall and her mother took Patty into her arms.
“It’s got, Robert! It’s got, Robert!”
The scratching noises were getting louder, and they heard glass shattering and fluid sloshing around the toilet bowl and tub.
“Robert, open this door!” Her father pounded on the door, but it was no use. He became frantic as the noises continued and they heard a shrill cry.
Patty’s father rammed into the door with his shoulder and the wood splintered, but it was too late. The noises stopped. He hit the door again, and this time it buckled; the hinges ripping away from the doorframe as it fell, crashing against the bathroom floor. He raced inside, but the room was empty.
Patty wrapped her arms around her mother. From the walls, she could hear the voice. “Millia Gnu Aye is calling to us. Come with me and we shall see the glory that be.” The sounds grew more distant as it drained to the sewers and back to the ocean.
