Read Friday Night in Beast House for Free Online Page B

rest of the day wearing damp underclothes?
    Now she is naked except for her shoes and socks. Balancing on one foot, she steps into her bright orange coveralls.
    No longer comfortable lying flat on his belly, Mark pushed with his knees and rolled a little so most of his weight was on his right side.
    Why bother wearing the jumpsuit? he thought. Why not just crawl in naked? She can hose herself off afterward.
    For a few moments, Mark was able to picture her coming through the tunnel naked on her elbows and knees, her wobbling breasts almost touching the dirt.
    She wouldn’t do it naked, he thought. She’s coming in after me, so she’ll be wearing the jumpsuit.
    But just the jumpsuit.
    Its top doesn’t have to be zipped all the way up. It can be like halfway down, or maybe all the way to her belly button, and…
    ‘This is it?’ ask a woman’s voice.
    ‘This is it’ A man.
    ‘It’s just a hole.’
    ‘It’s hardly just a hole. It’s the beast hole. It’s how the beast came into the house.’
    ‘I’m sure.’
    ‘Well, I think you’d feel differently if you’d read the books.’
    ‘I saw the movies.’
    ‘It’s not the same. I mean… this is the beast hole.’
    ‘And quite a hole it is.’
    ‘Jeez, Helen.’
    ‘Sorry.’
    They were silent.
    A little while later, a male voice said, ‘I suppose it’s all quite Freudian, actually.’
    Someone giggled.
    ‘Am I being naughty?’ the same man asked.
    ‘Shhhh.’
    More voices.
    Voices came and went.
    As time passed, it seemed ever less likely that Thompson or anyone else would be coming into the hole to search for Mark.
    This is so great, he thought. I’ve really made it. Now all I have to do is wait here until the place closes.
    He imagined himself opening the back door at midnight, Alison’s surprise - My God, you really did it! - and she steps into the house and puts her arms around him, kisses him.
    ‘HELLLLLLL-OOOOOHHHHH!!!’
    He flinches.
    ‘HELLL-OOOHHHH DOWN DARE, LITTLE BEASTIE BEASTIE!’
    Apparently, just a zany tourist.
    As time passed, he found that yelling into the hole was a favourite pastime of people visiting the cellar.
    Every so often, a loud voice came down to startle him.
    ‘Yoo-hooo! Any beasts down there?’
    ‘Hey! Come on up! Ellen wants to check out the equipment’
    ‘Guten Morgen, Herr Beast! Was gibt?’
    ‘Hey! Come on up and say hi!’
    At one point, a woman yelled, ‘Yo, down there I’m ready if yer willin’!’
    A while later, a man called, ‘Bon jour, Monsieur bete!’
    He heard languages that made no sense to him. Some sounded Oriental, some Slavic. Some people who called into the hole spoke the English language with accents suggesting they came from the deep south, the northeast, Ireland, France, England, Italy, Australia. One sounded like the Frances McDormand character in Fargo.
    Men shouted into the hole. So did women. So did quite a few children.
    When women shouted, their husbands or boyfriends seemed to enjoy it.
    When guys shouted, their female compainions sometimes laughed but more often told them, ‘Stop that’ or ‘Don’t be so childish.’
    When children shouted, some mothers seemed to find it cute but others scolded. „Hush! And, ‘What do you think you’re doing?’ And, ‘Quit that!’ Sometimes, immediately after shouting a cheerful, ‘Hiya, beast!’ or ‘Betcha can’t catch me!’ into the holes, kids cried out ‘OW!’ Some squealed. Others began to cry.
    A couple of times, Mark heard mothers warn their kids, ‘The monster’ll come out and get you, if you don’t behave.’
    Mark listened to it all, sometimes smiling, sometimes angry, often grinning as he imagined himself springing up out of the hole at them.
    Oh, how they would scream and run!
    Except for the shouts, most of the voices weren’t very loud. Some, so often that Mark couldn’t make out the words, formed a soothing murmur. He found himself drowsing off. It hardly surprised him, considering that he’d spent most of