The Hell Hole | Issue 1

The Hell Hole | Issue 1

Castle Street Cannibal

There is not a more ideal place for a killer to roam than Castle Street, so they told us. I believe it. Ever since that evening the Marsh was evacuated one evening because of a ‘suspicious figure’ wandering the Botans. We thought they meant a gunman. 

Of course, the flat doors are always open, the windows so old they swing aside despite their locks. The students are young and fat and stupid, always wandering and tripping over. 

The first incident, people believed was just a rumour. A girl had left her window open so her boyfriend could come over without waking her, and had thought nothing of it when she heard a figure scuffle in and drop to her floor. Then when he got into her bed she noticed all sorts of things were wrong: the coldness, the ratty sleeves that wrapped around her body, the hissing of unfamiliar breath and the smell, a burning smell, a filthy harbour smell. There was nothing she could do, but choke and scream, as the killer ripped into her neck and face. When they found her body she had been chewed. White pieces of skull gleamed from her bloody cheeks and her nose was completely gone. 

The next incident was more recent and involved an audience so I know that people are wary now. A man decided to break into the Botans to go for a blaze on the bridge. Some kids from Logan Park observed him from up the hill. The kids explained how he lay back and seemed to be sleeping when a man, crouched on all fours, scuttled over and bit the stoner in the neck with such force and confidence that blood jetted across the killer’s own face. None of the kids could say a thing about his features, only that he moved fast and was strong enough to drag the body into the bushes with his own mouth. 

He seems to have developed a taste for scarfie blood. A few students have complained to Campus Watch about a creature crawling past the side of their flats or staring through their windows as they slept. Campus Watch won’t act; they know what he likes and won’t risk getting in the way. 

Every night I lock my door. 

Every night I hear it rattle. 

This article first appeared in Issue 1, 2017.
Posted 2:06pm Sunday 26th February 2017 by Jessica Thompson Carr.