Uncle Pete

At first I found that Uncle Pete only spoke to me at times of the day that, on a digital clock, added up to prime numbers. Now I don’t know why that was, and anyone who has had a conversation with Pete knows that you would never dare ask for fear of losing an important (sometimes vital) body part.

At first it would just be whispers, he would come to me and ask how my day was, remind me that the gas bill needed paying, ask me how many times I’ve felt like killing the remaining shards of my immediate family this hour; but after a while things took a turn for the worse. Now I’m not sure if this was before or after the robbery, but I remember being hauled up in that dank room with those bottles of whisky for two weeks straight, and he appeared to me on every single day. Sometimes we would share a drink, squinting up at the shafts of light that would sometimes creep in through the cracks in the floorboards, at others he would sit quietly in the corner and tell me stories of such pain and anguish that it near on broke my heart and we would weep together until the tears stopped and sleep took us.

Uncle Pete would never let me speak of him though. When the police shouted through the hatch Pete held the bottle to my throat and nodded solemnly as I replied that it was just me; it was at those times that I became afraid. When I finally decided to leave peacefully Pete was the one who rigged the light switch and emptied the barrels.

For the next three weeks we wouldn’t speak. The screams haunted me in my dreams and when I would wake Pete would be sitting there, silent but watchful. I became afraid to go to bed, I tried to escape but he lured me back with his whispers of the ‘good times’. He knew my secrets and I couldn’t escape his presence. Eventually I submitted to his will, and at that point he vanished.

I have not seen Uncle Pete since that day, but the scars from his frequent bottle attacks and severe liver damage from that fortnight in the cellar are daily reminders of his existence. If he should ever appear to you dear reader then my thoughts and prayers are with you and those closest to you.

- Mr Winston