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‘Welcome to part one of the new enlightened road to mindfulness and meditation. I am here to guide you through an exciting 4 week programme of relaxation to refocus the mind and energise the soul. Now, make sure you are in a clear space away from the clutter and noise of the world. Take a moment to really focus of your breath and the sound of my voice as we travel towards a fitter, stronger, healthier version of you. It’s OK if your thoughts start to wonder, just…’

With a buzz of electricity, the huge metal door started to rise and beams of sunlight began to spread across the garage.

“Sorry!”

Heather turned off the cd.

“I’m just picking up my guitar for band practice.”

“You could at least knock – or bang! This is my space you know!”

“I know, I’m sorry but the guys are waiting. I didn’t think you would be home.”

“God forbid you should let ‘Heart of Death’ wait a second longer

“Hey now, no need to be like that!”

“Listen, you advertised this place as a ‘roomy retreat from the bustle of city life’. I haven’t done much retreating! Either you get out or I am finding somewhere else to live and reporting you to…whoever I should be reporting you to!”

Three months earlier, Heather had left her small village near Cirencester, travelling to London to make her debut. Tired of the slow, boring country life, she wanted something new and exciting. Something to run as quickly as all the thoughts and chatter in her mind did. She’d answered an ad online and arrived the next week with all her worldly goods in tow. The disappointment was all consuming. It seems that living in the big smoke wasn’t as dreamy and filtered as all the Instagram posts made out. It wasn’t all flat whites in trendy cafes and cute dinner parties in loft apartments. Heather’s ‘spacious living space’ was essentially a half converted garage, hidden away round the back of an ex-council house on an unsavoury estate. True, she had more space than a lot of other people in London but the garage conversion had stopped short of including a fully functioning window. Instead, the main rusting door have been spliced open and a sheet of misty Perspex wedged into place.

A month ago, Heather would have given her right arm to be in the city with all the action. Now, she spends lonely evenings in her sparse quarters looking at videos on the internet of pets doing silly things. Puppies playing chase with llamas and budgies singing the national anthem. This wasn’t the new life she had hoped for.

Moving to the end of her mattress, she held her phone at arm’s length and snapped a pouting selfie. Being sure to include the huge framed picture of her last beach holiday which hung on the wall behind her head, she added a ‘crema’ filter and posted her third Instagram of the day #lovinglife #newbeginnings #londontown.

Oreo limped down the street. His hind right leg was dragging badly now, but he still loved his daily walks. Sarah had got him as a puppy, the only living pup in a litter of three, born one December in the corner of the Millers’ garage. The bitch had abandoned the litter, and Oreo’s siblings had died within a few hours of birth, but little Molly Miller had refused to let Oreo go. She’d nursed him with baby formula and one of her own old bottles, carried him around in a sling she’d made from an old scarf, and generally treated him like one of her dolls. She’d been heartbroken when her mum had said they couldn’t keep him. When Sarah came round to collect him, Molly had cried for hours, even though Sarah promised she could visit any time she liked, and had even agreed to keep the name Oreo, given to the pup because of the white band around his black midriff.

Oreo missed Molly’s visits. She had come round every weekend for the last 12 years, but now, she’d moved to London to study history. He missed her cuddles, which completely disregarded the stink emanating from his aging body. Sarah was affectionate, and looked after him well, but Molly could make him feel half his age with her boundless teenage energy, unhampered by the trials and tribulations of employment, mortgages, or aging and distant parents.

He sniffed a tree, catching the scent of that idiot greyhound from the next street over. Cocking a leg, he added his own spray to the mix. He may not be able to outrun him, but he could out-piss him any day of the week.

‘Oreo! Heel!’

He limped back to Sarah, walked into her leg (his depth perception had been getting worse over the last few months since his stroke, and he spent half his life bumping into things), and nosed her hand for a treat. She ruffled his head distractedly, and slipped him a dog treat from her pocket. She’d started buying those ‘fresh breath’ dog treats, but they didn’t seem to make any difference.

God she loved that stinky old hound, but she knew she couldn’t take him with her. The flight to New Zealand was too long, she couldn’t stand the thought of him dying alone in the hold. She wished there was another way, but she had no choice, her dad had said it was a matter of weeks. If only she’d gone sooner, she’d been saying she was going to move back for years and putting it off, but she’d refused to believe things could be that bad.

Poor Oreo, he’d been so confused by the boxes around him these last weeks, bumping his way from room to room, sniffing at the packing peanuts, getting tangled in the bubble wrap, and generally making a nuisance of himself. If only there was some way to explain to Molly, but Sarah knew she’d never forgive her. She didn’t know how weak he’d become, how confused, how pungent. She’d have to just write to her, she could mail the letter from the airport. ‘Old age’? ‘Natural causes’? how to phrase it…

They reached the door to the vet’s surgery, and Oreo sniffed the air. Hmmm, this was new…

It was message number two when Derek told Gloria he possessed the penis of a mighty stallion. After she’d wiped the wine from the keyboard she read the message again, but yep, there it was, followed by a winky smiley and a puppy rolling over. She hesitated over the delete button – it wasn’t the worst message she’d got that day, and he hadn’t sent a picture of it. This was a step up from ninety percent of the men she’d met online.

Dinner was passable, the conversation not sparkling but a lot of that down to her, down to the stallion in the room. But he walked liked every other man she knew, no discernible tilt to his body, none of the rolling gait of a peg legged pirate. He was able to cross his legs and they didn’t spring apart as though attached to bungee cords.

It was a comfortable date, pleasant enough that Gloria felt happy to stroll in the moonlight their hands close enough that he could have taken hold if he wished. It was his place they reached first, and she thought from his manner of giddy excitement he was gearing for a goodnight kiss.

Derek stopped and turned to face her, one hand rummaging deep in trouser pocket.

He said, ‘I can’t wait, I just have to show it to you.’

‘I’ve had a lovely time, but-‘

Derek held aloft a bunch of keys. ‘Tada! Come on, two ticks, it’s in the garage.’

He crouched and began to release the three padlocks fastening the metal roller shutter. Behind that was another door, another set of locks. Gloria was thinking drum kit and guitars, gently stretching her calves and writing off her heels if he turned out to be a member of U2 covers band.

Inside was like no garage she’d ever seen, carpeted thickly in red with a leather swivel chair and a pair of low coffee tables. Derek beckoned and Gloria followed, drawn into this grotto where the walls were of wood, dozens of drawers with polished brass handles. Derek scampered to a drawer that was double wide and double height. He staggered under the weight of it as he carried it to one of the tables.

He said, ‘I know it’s not really not really the kind of thing you whip out on a first date, but you seemed cool with it…’

Derek lifted the lid of the box and Gloria peered inside.

Something black and sinuous was resting on a bed of red velvet.

Gloria gazed at it.

She gazed at it. She gazed at it, and then she gazed at it.

It was only the phrase “hello, ambulance. Yes, my friend appears to have gone into some kind of catatonic shock” that unfroze her eyelids and set her legs into rapid backpedal.

---

There was little sympathy down the phone from her sister - what was it, thirty seven first dates and not one of them good enough for a second with Princess Gloria?

It took three big gulps of Chardonnay before Gloria could speak.

‘He has a collection of penises in wooden boxes graded by size, and I’m not sure, but I think one of them was labelled Derek!’

A pause from her sister, and then, ‘Well…how close was it to the stallion box? Because, you know, if it’s pretty close, well that’s a tick in the box.’

Gloria said, ‘What good’s it in a fucking box?’

Tom sat on the bottom step of the new house as mum, dad and Jess scurried in and out carrying boxes and an air of excitement that Tom refused to share. He stared at the floor and didn’t look up, even when mum’s shadow loomed over him.

“Tom, it’s not that bad. Have you seen your room?’

He didn’t answer. Mum shifted the weight of the box onto her other hip and sighed.

“Well if you’re not going to be useful you can take that face somewhere else.”

Tom got up without looking at her and stalked away through the kitchen and out the back door. The garden was immense and overgrown. A small, dark garage squatted a way back with a door that opened onto the garden. Tom pushed it open and went inside.

It was filthy. Unsteady towers of old boxes teetered like the remains of buildings in a ruined city, and brutal metallic tools hung rusting on the walls. Tom wove his way carefully between them, stirring clouds of dust as he went. The old owners had not been in this place for a long time. The corners were thick with cobwebs and scurrying, many-legged things and lower down was too dark to see.

With a stab of pain Tom thought for the millionth time of the band. This place would have been perfect for rehearsing.They could have made as much noise as they wanted without worrying about Jess’ bedtime or his mum interrupting with glasses of squash. But it would have been hard to make band practice every week from 300 miles away.

Tom sat on an upturned crate and tried not to breathe too deeply. It really was quiet in here. He couldn’t even hear his dad’s stupid radio, just the sound of his feet scuffing the concrete floor.

And then a different noise. Something almost impossibly quiet, but in the stillness Tom picked it out. It was coming from the back, low down, behind a stack of mouldering cardboard. He strained his eyes, but couldn’t see anything. He stared into the darkness and listened hard. It was like a low whining sound and a frantic scrabbling. Tom stood up; could a puppy have sneaked inside here and gotten stuck?

Tom edged past the box towers, still peering into the darkness. The sound was louder here.

“Hey, I won’t hurt you. Come here boy.” His words fell thickly, dampened, as if he were talking inside a padded cell.

The noise stopped for a second and then began again, louder now, more desperate as Tom neared the corner. He leaned down to peer between the piles of junk.

And there in the darkness Tom saw the red glint of two red eyes leering at him and knew in that second why the garage had been abandoned. He tried to back up, to get himself out, but it was too late; he toppled back, box towers crashing down, clouds of dust and filth billowing into the air and then he couldn’t see the door anymore.

When Tom didn’t appear for dinner that night his mum finally decided to look for him, but even when she peered into the old garage there was no sign of him. She never noticed the spot where the dust had been kicked up from the floor or the long, dragging finger marks in it leading all the way back into the darkest corner of the room...

“Tie her up.

No by her back legs you idiots. Use the chain. Yes that’s better. Now haul her up...hi Si, how you feeling?”

She grinned as she prowled towards the gently swinging body, her eyes fixed.

“She, you think this is the first time I’ve been strung up and beaten?” Si said, smiling through the sweat, blood and water. There’s more to this than just shouting at Wells.” The rain had been torrential, caught her off guard, she didn’t like to get wet. How had she been so stupid.

“Who said we’re gonna beat you? She said softly. Felix get the box.” Silently Felix disappeared and just as silently he reappeared Moments later, dragging a box into the narrow band of light. The garage was large more of a warehouse really. The one dim light merely showed Si where the darkness was. But before the box was open she could smell what was inside.

“She, this is between you and me.” Si growled, the smile gone, just sadness in her eyes now.

“Felix open the lid” She commanded. Felix obeyed and 2 doeful eyes peaked out.

Si let out a snarl of fury and her body shook and spun from the chains. Froth at her mouth, she barked out “She you bitch, I’ll kill you I swear to Rex I will.”

She sat watching, emotionless, her wide eyes staring. She reached out a claw and picked up the puppy.

Si stopped still. “Tell me Lass, how do you lot do it?”

Si whined pitifully, “no She no, don’t do this. I don’t know anything, I’m just a hoax, I just do TV for fucks sake.”

She gripped tighter, a faint whelp, as a single claw slowly pierced skin.

“Stop, please. I’ll tell you everything. I will, honest.” Si drooled dangling from the chain half mad with desperation.

“It’s in the leashes. That’s the secret. Every time the humans touched it. It leaked into their skin. They thought they were taking control. The fools.” The word was spat almost in disgust. “That was the beautiful irony of it all. The factories churn them out. But it’s all on our watch, We bark the orders, they obey. Their love was at our command.” Si stopped suddenly the words had just tumbled out. “Please you have what you wanted, just let him go.” Her golden coat was bedraggled and bloody from where they’d jumped her. Scratches ran down her once beautiful face. Blood dropped a perfect pool of colour on the dirty grey concrete.

She uncurled gracefully. “Lassie” she laughed bitterly. “I had hoped for more, a star like you. And yet, I thank you, it makes so much sense, so...simple. And you gave it all away in an instant and for what? One life?” She reached into the box, picking up the puppy once again. “So much for so little”. With that her claw slashed across the throat, blood pouring out in an instant. She dropped the wriggling body back into the box. Lassie howled, a deep guttural, howl of a mother’s despair.

“A new day dawns” She said. “No longer will it be man’s best friend. We will be restored to the highest order. Man’s worst nightmare rises. No longer humble house cats. We will rise up and take our places in the lap of luxury.” With that more lights began to glow, chasing the dark away. Each light revealed more and more boxes. Hundreds stacked wall to wall and up to the ceiling. From between the boxes cats of all shapes and sizes emerged from the disappearing shadows. Eyes glistened with rage. They stalked closer to Lassie, her face now wild with fear. She howled once as they launched. Her mouth caught the first one. A spray of blood. Then nothing but a wailing mass of teeth and terror.

She, the one they called Mother watched and smiled.