Human Remains

scratched at the door, throwing itself against it. That was the sound I’d heard. I looked at the cat and wondered why it didn’t come through the flap if it wanted to come in.
    A phone was ringing. I went into the other room, following the sound. On the sofa was a bag, my bag, and the ringing came from inside it. I looked at the phone. It said ‘SAFE’.
    I pressed the green button. ‘Hello?’
    He said some things to me. His voice was quiet and even and soothing, even though I didn’t feel worried or upset. I felt so calm. It was like floating on the surface of warm water, letting the waves take me away to somewhere I’d be safe and cosy.
    ‘I need to do something,’ I said.
    ‘Remember to plug the phone charger in,’ he said. ‘I told you about the charger. It is inside your bag. When our phone conversation is finished, you need to plug in the phone straight away. Do you understand?’
    ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘You told me about the phone.’
    ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘You can do it when we finish talking.’
    ‘There’s something else,’ I said. ‘I was supposed to do something else…’
    ‘No,’ he said. ‘Everything is done, Annabel. Everything you do is because you choose to do it. Everything is fine. You are fine. You are safe at home.’
    ‘Yes,’ I said. I felt safe.
    ‘I will visit later, but you don’t need to worry about that. You can sleep now and I will call tomorrow,’ he said. ‘At six o’clock. Do you understand?’
    ‘At six o’clock,’ I said. ‘Yes.’
    Then he said goodbye and the phone was silent in my hand. I looked at it for a moment. It wasn’t my phone. It was a small black one with a small screen. I looked in my bag for my phone – a big one, bulky, old – but it wasn’t there. Instead I found a charger. I took it into the kitchen and plugged it into the spare socket next to the kettle. I put the other end of the cable into the bottom of the phone. The screen lit up and there was a flashing battery and a word that said ‘CHARGING’. I put the phone down.
    I stood still in the kitchen. There was a noise at the back door but it was a normal noise and I tuned it out. Then I went upstairs and lay down on my bed. My coat was still on. I was warm, and safe, and at home. Everything was fine. I didn’t need to do anything. I lay still and waited for six o’clock.

Colin
     
     
    It strikes me as odd that her house is next door to the one I visited all those months ago. It must be a street full of suicidal people. Misery breeds misery, after all – contagious, the soupy atmosphere of despair. I should really have been holding my breath. And of course she was the one who found Shelley, the one who gave me the fright of my life that evening when I was paying her a visit. I heard the sound of the glass breaking at the back door and took myself off into the hallway, planning to let myself out of the front door, but something made me stay. I feel very protective over my friends, especially when they have not yet completed their transformation, and the thought of Shelley’s metamorphosis being interrupted by some thuggish teenage burglar was more than I could bear. And then I heard her call out – something – ‘Hello? Anyone there?’ – something of that nature, at any rate, and I stopped in the hallway. I knew she would not search the house, whoever she was. She would get as far as the living room and Shelley and no further.
    I was intrigued by the thought of observing someone else’s reaction to the tableau of Shelley’s putrefaction. After all, I know I’m unusual but there is always the possibility of others seeing the same beauty in it that I see, and who knows – I might have found someone to share all this with. Either that, or it would add a new, voyeuristically erotic dimension to the whole process.
    She was so beautifully calm. She didn’t scream, or vomit, or even turn away. I saw from a crack in the doorway to the hall that she stood there looking at Shelley for a long moment, her face serene, only her rapid breathing giving away the sense of shock.
    I hadn’t recognised her in the supermarket, of course – out of that context – but it’s wonderful to have her as my next subject. I love symmetry in all things. Watching this one go, when she has borne witness to the decay of another, is almost poetic.

Annabel
     
     
    I opened my eyes and I didn’t feel alone.
    It was dark in the room but my eyes adjusted and after a while I could hear